Chapter 43 Jackson
Jackson
He walked Hazel to the carriage house, partly because it was the right thing to do. Her hand rested lightly in the crook of his elbow. Darkness had set in and, although the driveway was in pretty good condition, it wouldn’t be hard to twist an ankle or stumble on a tire track.
Mainly, Jackson escorted her because he would have walked all the way to the Upper Peninsula to avoid facing Leah.
Hazel prattled happily about the new novel she was reading for the book club, the merits of bacon pieces in potato salad, and Natalia’s amazing shoes, which—surprisingly enough—had not even been a blip on his radar throughout the whole excruciating afternoon.
Fortunately, his companion needed little input from him as she ran one subject into the other with practiced ease.
They climbed the steps to her front porch, Jackson casting a glare upward at the unlit lantern hanging over the front door.
He made a mental note to check the bulb and get one of his workmen out here to rig up a timer, maybe even another security camera.
He didn’t want to have to deal with the aftermath of Hazel breaking her neck, and it wouldn’t hurt to have another eye on the place.
“Bless you, sweetheart.” She stretched up to kiss his cheek. Unwillingly, he inclined his head. “Delivered to the door by a handsome escort, safe and sound. How lucky am I?”
Jackson grunted; he had no small talk to offer. “Night, Hazel.” Turning on his heel, he started down the steps.
“Things aren’t always as they seem on the surface, Jackson. You know that more than anyone.” Hazel halted him with her words.
For a moment, he wondered if he could speak at all. The continuous antagonism from his father, this pit of yearning for Leah, alongside the ache of being made to feel foolish, had wiped him out. He felt as alone as he’d ever been.
Jackson lifted his chin and looked at the sky but he didn’t turn around. “People are out for what they can get. That’s just the way it is.” His voice surprised him. It was rough but steady. “When they’re not judging you, they’re putting their own interests first. And I’ve no time for either.”
Behind him, Hazel was silent for a moment.
When she spoke, her words were sympathetic but firm.
“You’ve had it tough, I’ll grant you that.
But don’t make the mistake of tarring everyone with the same brush.
We all need someone on our side.” Her keys jangled in her hand.
“That girl has had your back from the moment she first met you. And if you’re prepared to give that up at the first hurdle then you’re a fool who doesn’t deserve her.
And I don’t think you’re a fool, Jackson. ”
He heard her step over the threshold, close the front door behind her, and turn the lock from the inside.
“That’s where you’re wrong, though, Hazel,” he murmured as he began the short walk back up the drive. “It seems I’m the biggest dumbass who ever lived.”
Sam and Kash, the last of the guests to leave, were saying goodbye to Leah when he returned.
“Want us to stay longer?” he heard Sam offer.
“No, I’m good.” Leah shook her head. “I’ll see you soon.”
They walked to their car, gravel crunching under their shoes. “Night, buddy.” Sam did the whole hand-clasp, shoulder-slap thing. Jackson returned it with a mutter, repeating it with Kash and wishing they would hurry up and go.
Leah hovered on the top step, her face in shadow, her expression masked by the fall of night. “Hazel get back OK?”
“Fine. I’m going to bed.” He coated each word in disinterest and saw her flinch.
“Jackson—” Sam stepped between them. “It wouldn’t hurt to listen.”
He said nothing, just kept on walking. Up the steps, past Hazel’s pot of pansies, past Leah—so close he could smell her shampoo—and into the house. Jackson took the stairs in twos and disappeared into the darkness.