Chapter 9
NOW
June
Jackson and I had just finished filling up a third bag when the playlist ended, so we decided it was time to take a break.
“Enchanted” by Taylor Swift, “You Should See Me Now” by Neck Deep, and “Nothing Changes” by Simple Plan had been my picks.
I might have been subtly giving him messages, but that’s just speculation.
He’d chosen “No Hands” by Waka Flocka Flame, which I knew was an homage to the first shift I worked with him and Julie, when they were both shocked that I had never heard the song before.
After that was “Circles” by Mac Miller, followed by “The First Time” by Damiano David.
It felt like a message back to me, but I wouldn’t let myself overthink it.
The entire playlist was barely half an hour.
When the room filled with silence I stared at the scar over Jackson’s right eye as he tied all the bags. How did he get it? What had I missed in his life these past ten years?
“Do you have something to say?” Jackson joked when he caught me staring for the hundredth time. “You have your thinking face on.”
“Do I?” I asked as I reared my head back.
Jackson smirked. “You always raise your left eyebrow when you’re focusing hard on something.” He reached forward and smoothed his thumb over my eyebrow.
When our eyes met, he dropped his smile and snapped his arm back. Ten years, and he still remembered that detail about me. I pointed toward his scarred eyebrow, not daring to touch him. “When did you get that scar?”
He ran a finger over it before putting his hands on his hips and looking away. “I got it when I was eighteen.”
I let out a small laugh. “Jackson, I knew you when you were eighteen.”
He looked up at me and pinched his mouth to the side. “Not during those last two months.”
I was already in North Carolina by the time Jackson turned nineteen. He must have gotten it sometime between June and August.
“What happened?”
He started picking up the bags as he answered. “Car accident. It was no big deal. Just a piece of glass.”
I stood up from my spot on the floor to follow him up the steps, telling myself not to pressure him for more details. I needed to keep him at arm’s length, which I was failing at miserably.
“I’ll take these to Goodwill. Why don’t you take a shower while I’m gone.” He was out the front door before I could say anything.
I grabbed my toiletries bag and walked toward the bathroom.
Peter’s shampoo and body wash were still in the shower, and his toothbrush and razor were on the sink.
I quickly threw all of it in the trash. The house had well water, and I had to let it run for a while until the pipes seemed clear enough to shower.
I didn’t even want to think about tackling the bathroom; the sink and tub were both stained with copper and rust from the well water.
That was going to take forever to scrub off with rust remover. That was an adventure for another day.
I wasn’t used to the smell of well water anymore, but at least it was warm, and it felt good to clean myself of the dried sweat that covered my body.
I scrubbed myself until I felt like a new woman, and brushed my hair until all the tangles were out.
I ran my hand across the mirror to gaze at my reflection.
I still had purple bags under my eyes, and a few freckles sprinkled across my cheeks from the sun.
I debated curling my pin-straight hair, but decided to let it air dry since today was going to be humid and the curls would inevitably get frizzy.
When I walked out of the bathroom Jackson was already back, sitting at the kitchen table and scrolling through his phone. “Feel better?” he asked as I approached.
I nodded, crossing my arms and joining him at the table.
“I got smoothies.”
I had to force myself not to smile, because I already knew it would be a peanut butter banana smoothie from the ice cream shop in downtown Tostela.
“Thanks,” I mumbled as I unwrapped a straw and placed it in the lid. The smoothie was thick and chunky, just the way I remembered. I let out a sound of pleasure from the taste. Nowhere in Wilmington had ever lived up to this. Jackson laughed at me, then took a sip from his own cup.
“So how can you be here the whole summer? Are you taking time off work?” Jackson asked.
I crossed my legs in the chair, putting my hair behind my ears. “I always have the summers off. I’m a nanny, and the mom is a teacher so she doesn’t work summers.”
“Yeah? How’d you get that job?”
I smiled, picturing the curly haired girl that I’d watched grow up.
She was almost thirteen now. I missed Mia so much.
“The family is amazing. It was pure luck that I got the job. I was only in North Carolina for a week, and happened to be sitting at a coffee shop next to her mom, Wren. Mia was only two at the time, and she kept looking over at me and smiling. She ended up walking over to my table and asking me if I’d come play with her.
Wren had taken off teaching when Mia was born and was planning to go back to work in the fall.
She was thinking about hiring a nanny. I emailed her my résumé immediately, and she hired me the next day. I’ve been with them ever since.”
Mia was getting older, and Wren and I had a conversation before I left about if they would need me for much longer.
I had lived with them for ten years—it was probably time I thought about moving out.
I looked around the kitchen. I owned this house.
It had fallen into my lap. I could live here if I wanted, but the thought of being in Peter’s house caused a shiver to run down my spine. My last memory here made me feel sick.
I looked over at Jackson, and he was staring at me with a smile. I looked away and dug my nail under a piece of the table that was chipping. “So, since Marie moved what happened to your house?” I asked.
“She sold it. Sam, Jules, Sophie, and I had to move everything out for her. It was really sad, but she couldn’t bear to be in it for long without Phil.”
The piece I had been scraping at popped off from the table, and I played with it between my fingers. “I loved that house. Did you keep your drum set?”
Jackson laughed. “Of course I did. Sophie keeps begging me to get rid of it.”
“Can’t imagine why. Not like it’s the loudest instrument ever invented,” I said sarcastically, even though watching Jackson play the drums was one of my favorite pastimes back then.
Jackson laughed again. “It’s a great stress reliever. Whenever I feel like drinking, I play.”
I felt awful for making a joke now, and a part of me was mad at Sophie for wanting him to get rid of it. If it helped with his sobriety, why would she want it gone?
I tried to think of anything to say to change the subject, but I was at a loss for words.
“You wouldn’t believe some of the stuff we found at the house.” Jackson covered his mouth to suppress a laugh. I raised my eyebrow.
“Julie found a pair of your underwear in my dresser.”
I choked on my smoothie, standing up quickly and patting my chest. Jackson didn’t try to cover his laugh this time, content with himself for making me flustered.
“Jesus Jackson, you didn’t need to tell me that.” My cheeks were red, and I went over to the sink to splash water on my face.
“I still have them.”
I whipped around and flicked water at him.
He wiped it off his face and bent over with laughter. “I’m fucking with you, Addie. We threw them away. Sophie just about murdered me.”
“Good! You’re a freak, Jackson.” My legs felt wobbly. I knew exactly what pair he had, and why. I tried—and failed—to clear the memory of him taking them off me from my brain.
He laughed at me again before standing straight. He crossed his arms and settled his eyes on me with a smile. “I just wanted to make you laugh.”
“Well, you didn’t. That wasn’t funny.”
I leaned back against the sink, staring him down with my angriest glare.
The smile on his face didn't falter. "I have to go." He shook his head and grabbed his smoothie. “I’ll text you.”
“No, you really shouldn’t,” I said.
“Bye, Addie.” He gave me one last wave before walking out the front door. I turned the dead bolt before he even made it down the porch.