Page 10 of Jameson’s Salvation

“I don’t know, Nix. Every summer since I was thirteen until the year he passed.”

“Right. And when he got sick, you come over here and help out around the house? You mow his grass, even though he bitched he didn’t want you to? You bring him food? You come over and check in on him, keep him company?”

Kennedy didn’t say anything and Jameson knew Nix had made his point.

“Not the same thing, Nixon, and you know it. I loved your dad—he was there for me and my mom when my dad died. And I should’ve done more for your dad.”

“It is the same thing. There’s a debt to be paid, and it’s mine. I owe you. And you know if my pop was around, he’d have my ass in a sling if I didn’t take care of you. You and I may not have spoken in many years, but my dad told me everything you’d done for him. How much he appreciated your help, especially in the end. And if you don’t think me knowing that you were here taking care of my old man when I couldn’t didn’t go a long way to help my guilt, you’d be wrong. Don’t fight me on this, Kennedy. We’re taking care of this for you.”

Kennedy’s body slumped as she realized Nix wasn’t backing down. Jameson hadn’t known all that the woman had done for Nixon’s dad, but hearing it, he wasn’t the least bit surprised. Kennedy Lane was a good person, through and through. And as much as Jameson liked hating everything and everyone, he just might like Kennedy.

And now that he knew he liked her as a person, it was going to make the attraction he felt toward her even harder to tamp down.

Someone as bright and cheery as Kennedy didn’t need Jameson’s bad attitude and black soul to darken her world. No, she belonged in the bright, brilliant light, and Jameson knew he was best left to his cold solitude.

The fuck of it was, for once Jameson wanted to know what it felt like to be wrapped in warmth.

4

Kennedy

I was annoyed Nixon had pulled his father into the money conversation. It’d been a low blow. But once he’d started ticking off the things I’d done for Mr. Swagger, like I was some goody-two-shoes, I knew I’d lost.

I hadn’t helped Mr. Swagger because I wanted gratitude, I hadn’t even done it to return the kindness he’d showed my mom and me after my dad died. I did it because all I could think about was my own mom. If I’d been off serving my country like Nixon had been and my mom was all alone, I’d want someone to help her.

I truly believed you reaped what you gave. I knew that some people thought I was a pushover because I never said no when someone needed help, and I offered my time more than I received back. But the truth was, even though I had very little, I had more than some. I would never allow others’ inability to do the right thing make me a pessimistic bitch. That didn’t make me a pushover, it made me a good person.

“I’m sorry,” I told Jameson as we pulled out of Nixon’s lane.

“For what?”

“I’m sure a trip to the sheriff’s office wasn’t how you’d envisioned your afternoon going. Or should I say evening.”

The sun had sunk farther into the western sky, streaking the horizon with yellow and orange. Even though Jameson had said he wanted to look at my place while he still had daylight, I didn’t think that was going to happen.

“Had nothing else planned,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Well, at least you shoulda let me drive my own car. That way you didn’t have to go back to Nixon’s to drop me off and waste more of your time.”

“Need to go back there anyway, considering that’s where I live.”

“You do? I didn’t know that.”

“Yep. Nixon moved out a while ago and moved in with McKenna, Zack, and Mandy. All of us live there.”

I didn’t know who all Jameson was talking about, but I assumed he meant Holden and the other guys I’d heard he’d worked with.

“I love that for Nix. I’d heard he moved in with McKenna, but I also know you can’t believe half the shit you hear.”

“Only half?”

“No, you’re right. It’s more like you can’t believe ninety percent of what’s floatin’ around.”

“Now that I believe.” Jameson smiled and once again the small gesture changed his whole appearance.

I wasn’t nosey by nature but I was curious as to why he always looked like he was pissed about something. To say he’d perfected the resting bitch face would be an understatement. Only on him it was more like a, ‘I’m a total badass and could snap you in two so don’t even think of talking to me’, face.

At some point in Jameson’s life he’d been burned, that much was obvious. But what I didn’t know, and it’d never be my place to ask, was why he’d kept picking at the scab. Maybe whatever happened was so bad, he used the fresh pain as a reminder so he didn’t fall prey again.