“So what?” I shot back, because I was mad now. How could he just say things like that? Make my feelings rise back up when therewas nothing I could do about them? I wanted to know what changed between then and now; why he hurt me, why he even still cared. Instead, I said, “Where’s Sophie anyways, while you’re here bothering me?”
“Her sister is in labor with her first baby, so she’s visiting her in Connecticut. I took her to the airport this morning. She’s staying out there for two weeks.”
I crossed my arms. “And you think helping me out is a good idea?”
Jackson let out an exasperated breath. “Sophie can’t tell me who I can and can’t be friends with.”
“Right, ‘cause she never could,” I shot back.
“Can we just stop with the bullshit?” Jackson said, almost yelling now. I dropped my arms. “Just—just stop, okay? Can we just be friends? I want to help you with the house. Peter sucked, and this house sucks, and I just want to do something for you for once. Is that too much to ask?”
My heart squeezed in my chest. I just wanted to yell at him to go fuck himself. But I also wanted him here, because no matter what had transpired between us, he was stillhere, and he wanted to help me.
“Fine,” I said quietly.
He nodded at me. “Now sit and eat your breakfast. Damn, you’re a brat when you’re hungry,” Jackson said in a low voice.
A laugh escaped me, and Jackson started laughing, too. This felt ridiculous.
“Truce?” he asked as he reached his hand across the table for me to shake.
I shook my head. “Julie’s first rule: no touching.”
I swear to god Jackson blushed as he cackled. He pulled his arm back. “That never stopped us before, did it?”
“You’re an asshole,” I whispered. I turned back to eat my breakfast, avoiding his gaze to prevent my stomach from flipping.
***
We decided to tackle the rest of Peter’s room after breakfast. There wasn’t much left to go through, and I was actually thankful Jackson was here, because I didn’t want to have to go through the drawers myself. Who knew what I would find in there? I hated Peter, but he was still my brother. I didn’t want to find something like a sex toy that would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Jackson handed his phone to me so we could make another playlist. I was choosing my songs for the task with angst. Even though we had called a truce, we didn’t shake on it, so was it actually sound? And then he had to make that comment about how Julie could never stop us from touching; I was still in disbelief he was ballsy enough to say something like that.
I had just chosen “Silver Springs” by Fleetwood Mac because, well, fuck him, and was tapping “Red” by Taylor Swift when a text from Sophie popped up on his phone.Just got to Amanda’s. We’ll talk again when I get back.Oh shit. That sounded like aWewon’ttalk again until I get back. Were they fighting?
I finished picking songs with shaky fingers and pretended to ignore the text until Jackson lifted his watch to read a notification. I knew it had to be the text message appearing on his watch, and his eyes lifted to meet mine. We both knew I saw the text. It was pointless to lie.
“So, you guys in a fight or something?” I said as I handed his phone back to him.
“Or something,” Jackson said, letting out anirritated huff.
“What’d you do to piss her off?” I added as I crossed my arms.
He met my eyes again. “Take a wild guess.”
My heart started to flutter. They were fighting over me; I was sure of it. It was like high school all over again. “You’re an idiot,” I mumbled before turning around.
The first song started playing; Jackson had chosen “moody” by Royel Otis. I couldn’t tell if it was about me or Sophie.
Jackson started clearing out the bottom dresser drawer, and I held out a trash bag as he pulled out random knickknacks. I either nodded yes for keep, or shook my head no for throw away. So far, everything had been thrown away.
“So,” I started lightly, trying to play nice. “How long have you and Sophie been engaged?”
“Three years,” he said as he held up a package of Post-It notes. Half the notes were filled with random scribbles.
“Toss,” I said. “That’s a long engagement. Why make the poor girl wait so long?”
Jackson held up a pile of birthday cards and I motioned for him to throw them in the bag. I doubted there would be any leftover cash.
