Chapter 21 #2
I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her to me, burying my face in her wild hair. “Just remember that I didn’t know your dad didn’t tell you why I left. So every time I saw that you were dating someone new, like that douchebag soccer player—”
Jackson laughs. “He really was a douchebag.”
“It made me think you didn’t want me to return.”
She pulls away and looks up at me before running her tongue over her lower lip and looking away. “I only ever dated other people so everyone would think I was over you. Which I never was. Despite thinking that you’d abandoned me, I honestly never stopped loving you.”
I’ve waited five years to hear that, and still her words hit me harder than I expect. I cup her face in my hands, bringing my forehead to rest on hers. There’s so much I want to say, but all I can get out before a lump forms in my throat is, “I never stopped loving you either.”
“So you can for sure be there on New Year’s Eve?” Jed clarifies.
“Yes, but what about Jackson?”
“What about her?” Even over the phone I can hear the edge of concern in his voice.
“Well, she and I . . .” We said we weren’t going to tell anyone, but Jed’s my lawyer and he needs to know. Besides, as my lawyer he can’t tell anyone things I tell him in confidence. “We got back together. I want her there with me on New Year’s.”
“I don’t see why that’s a problem.”
“I don’t really want her to find out with everyone else. If we’re planning to make a big announcement at that New Year’s Eve gala the ski team does, she should know beforehand. I don’t want to spring it on her, and I don’t want her to hear it from someone else.”
“I can check with the board, see if they’re okay with you telling her after all the paperwork is signed but before the announcement is made. That would give you a window of a couple hours to talk to her about your plans before everyone else finds out.”
“Her finding out immediately beforehand isn’t ideal.” I sigh.
“But it’s better than her being surprised with the info at the gala, right?” Jed confirms. “You’re going to have to bend on this. For whatever reason, the board doesn’t want her or anyone else brought in on this.”
I think about how much she loves Blackstone.
How she loves the small, independent vibe, the old-school lodge, the lack of shops and tourists, the personal feel of the mountain.
My plans will change some of that. The new lodge and hotel on the backside of the mountain will be a big draw for tourists, but I’ve worked with the board to ensure that things are done on a small enough scale to still maintain the independent vibe.
To cut down on weekend tourists, the hotel is mostly made up of condos with quarter-, half-, and full-ownership shares available so there won’t be that many rooms available for normal hotel reservations.
And my company is already working on identifying small, local businesses to lease the shops and restaurant spaces that will make up the new “Main Street” in the village.
I’m hoping for a small European ski village feel, which I think Jackson will love.
But any changes to Blackstone may alarm her, and I just wish I could talk to her about it now—convince her that I’m actually saving the spirit of the mountain she loves, because it was either sell to me, sell to a big conglomerate that was going to make changes on a more massive scale, or go bankrupt.
“As long as I can tell her before the gala,” I say to Jed.
“We’ll see what the board says. They’re bound to have varying views on this.”
We agree that he’ll let me know once he’s talked to them and that, in the meantime, I’ll have my company coordinate a promotional video announcement that highlights the plans for the entire village.
When we hang up, I’m reminded how hard it is to still run my real estate business while also competing.
If I were in Europe racing right now, instead of in Big Sky recovering, I wouldn’t have time to be this hands-on.
I leave my home office to find Jackson. We are supposed to do another physical therapy session, so I’m in my workout shorts and nothing else.
I’ll be covered in sweat by the time we’re done, there’s no reason to wear clothes.
I can hear her talking on the phone as I walk down the hall to the living room, and I run my hand along the back of my neck as I try not to stress about how I’m going to get her to Blackstone for New Year’s Eve without telling her what’s going on.
“Whoa, honey!” The voice is alarmingly unfamiliar, with a bit of a Texas drawl. I look up and realize that Jackson is holding her phone up on her knee, angled at me. “No wonder you’re hiding away in the mountains somewhere. If I had a piece of eye candy like that, I’d hide him too!”
Jackson’s eyes are huge when she looks at me, then she taps her phone screen and says, “Hold on, Ms. Juarez.” She taps the screen again.
“It’s muted,” she tells me, then gives me a quick explanation of who Ms. Juarez is.
“I was showing her the house because she doesn’t understand why I can’t come visit her.
I’m trying to explain to her that I’m not in Park City, without telling her where I am exactly.
She knows what my condo looks like because sometimes we FaceTime and so I was showing her that I’m not at home.
I didn’t know you’d be walking back in so soon. ”
“So you’ve been visiting one of your former patients for years, because she has no family?”
“She’s family now,” Jackson shrugs, but her cheeks turn pink.
I let this information soak in for a second.
Jackson’s always been so focused, so dedicated.
Sometimes she can come off as cold, but it’s moments like these that I love her most. She loves deeply and quietly, it’s not a show for her.
It’s steady and constant, being there when it matters.
And knowing I wasn’t there for her when it mattered is what made me unsure she’d ever take me back.
“Can I meet her?”
“Right now? Or in person when we’re back in Park City?”
“Both?”
Jackson uses her chin to nod toward the space on the couch next to her, and I grab the sweatshirt lying over the back of the chair next to me and pull it over my head.
Then I squeeze in close so we’re both in the frame, my arm slung over Jackson’s shoulders.
Ms. Juarez’s eyes light up and Jackson unmutes just in time for us to catch her saying “This is that asshole who left you when you were in the ICU, isn’t it? ”
Jackson laughs at my surprised response. “Pretty much. But he had a good explanation and an even better apology.” She lets me explain myself, and I can see Ms. Juarez’s hard face relax.
“So you’re finally going to do it, Jackson?” Ms. Juarez asks.
“Do what?” Jackson’s brow is furrowing in that way that makes her look adorably vulnerable.
“Let go of the anger and soften your heart enough to love again.”
“Ouch,” she says and Ms. Juarez just makes a puckered “oh honey, it had to be said” face in response. “I guess I am,” she says, glancing over at me.
“What about that Italian boy toy?” she asks. Man, this woman holds no punches.
“Marco’s a great friend,” Jackson tells her. “But we’re not in love.” She looks at me and I hear what she’s not saying—she never stopped loving me. I know she said those words a week ago when we arrived, but reminders like these are the reassurance I think we both need at this point.
“Good. Because you were clearly never over this one,” Ms. Juarez tells her, and I wonder if everyone else knew that, too, or if she was for some reason more open with this older woman than she was with her friends and family. “Go have your fun. Will you visit soon?”
“Yes, I think we’ll be in Park City in about a week. I’ll visit as soon as I’m back.”
“Will you come too, sonny?” I assume she’s talking to me, so I promise I’ll come visit her when Jackson does.
“I miss you,” Jackson says, “I’ll see you soon.”
“Miss you too,” Ms. Juarez says before Jackson ends the call.
She snuggles into my side. “Man, I love that old lady.”
“I can tell,” I say as I kiss the top of her head where it rests on my chest.
“She’s just . . . I mean, I want to be feisty like her when I’m that age. She doesn’t give two shits what anyone thinks of her. She’s had quite the life.”
“How does she have no family, though?”
“She was very dedicated to her career. She never married or had kids. She had a really bad breakup when she was our age. Her fiancé betrayed her and she never really got over it.”
I squeeze her tightly to me and gently kiss the top of her head, letting my lips linger against her hair. “You know that I never betrayed you, right?”
“I wasn’t making a comparison,” she says, then quiets and takes a deep breath before she continues. “She told me her story as a warning not to go down the same bitter path she did. Will you really come visit her with me?”
“Yeah, of course. She’s important to you.”