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When I walk back into the kitchen, I nearly jump out of my skin. My heart thumps against my chest, out of the joy and exhilaration at seeing Jackson again, even if it is only his back as he stands facing the counter scrolling through his phone. Ben hadn’t mentioned he had returned, but I don’t mind. It’s a nice surprise.
“Hey,” I say brightly as I walk across the kitchen toward him.
Jackson side steps away and looks down at me. His face is like thunder, and I’m more than a little taken back. It’s not quite the reception I was expecting.
“Hey,” I say again, “are you OK?”
Maybe something bad happened in the city. Maybe he’s still struggling after seeing Claire. Whatever it is, I want him to know that I’m here for him. I know it all now. He knows he can talk to me if he needs to.
“I’m fine,” he replies gruffly.
I’m suddenly transported to the first time we met. Jackson the caveman is back. The same Jackson who could not speak more than two words to me, or want to be anywhere near me. What the heck is going on?
“What happened?” I ask.
He can’t be mad at me. We haven’t even seen each other since he left. Something has to have happened in the last few days. Maybe he just needs a little coaxing to open up.
“I said, I’m fine,” he snaps.
Clearly, he wasn’t; and while I want to be as understanding as possible, I am not his proverbial punching bag that he can whip one out on whenever he desires. I didn’t tolerate his attitude when we were at the fair, and I’m not going to suffer it now.
“What the hell has gotten into you?” I demand.
He grunts at me, but doesn’t speak.
“Jackson, will you act like an adult for once in your life, and tell me what’s going on?”
He’s still snarling and takes another step back. “I’m learning lessons I didn’t know I needed,” he spat back.
“What?” I demand, utterly confused.
I have absolutely no idea what on earth he’s talking about, and his cryptic replies are not helping. He’s acting like I’ve done something wrong, but I couldn’t have. If he just bothered to explain, it would help a great deal.
“Do you know what, Bree? Just do your chores,” he spits vehemently. “Do the job you’re here to do and leave me the hell alone.”
I falter and take a step back, my jaw dropping open at the fervent aggression I hear in his voice. I can hardly believe I’m talking to the same guy that was here not a week ago. Evidently, his foul mood is because of me, but I can’t for the life of me guess what I could possibly have done wrong. But then, why should I care? I know I haven’t done anything wrong. All I feel is anger. Anger at how callous he is toward me after everything we’ve shared together. I’m still confused, but my anger outshines my confusion.
“Did you ever think the reason you’re so good at fixing faucets is because you act like one?” I bite back. “One minute you’re running red hot, and the next, you’re freezing cold. I never know where the hell I am with you. The world around you is not the problem, Jackson. It’s you that needs fixing.” I’m shaking with rage and my words are harsh, but I just can’t stop myself.
Jackson’s face gets redder, and he takes a step toward me. Any second now, I’m going to be blasted with his exploding retort. Like me, he’s shaking with anger. With his fists clenched at his sides, I’m just waiting for him to pop.
I’m more than surprised when instead, he just glares at me for a long minute, before eventually shaking his head. Does he not have an answer? Is he struggling to find his words? I never find out, because a second later, he turns on his heels and storms out the kitchen door, slamming it shut behind him.
