Page 88 of Timid (Lark Cove 2)

Jackson made the trek across the playground quickly. The closer he got, the faster he seemed to walk, and by the time he crossed into our backyard, he was jogging.

Before he reached the stairs to my apartment, I opened the sliding glass door and stepped outside. I closed it behind me, crossing my arms over my chest to tuck my hands in. The wood on the deck was freezing against my bare feet and the cold air gave me goose bumps, even under my bulky sweater and thick jeans.

“I’m over here,” I called.

Jackson’s face whirled from the garage to me and his feet immediately changed direction. He didn’t slow down as he ran over to the porch and bounded up the steps, coming right into my space.

His chest crashed into mine and his arms closed around me tight to keep me from falling.

The moment I was in his embrace, the tears came back.

Jackson didn’t speak as I cried into his shirt; he just held me, resting his cheek against my hair. I felt his apology in his strong arms and racing heart. I felt it as each one of his breaths got easier and the tension left his back.

It was the best sorry I’d ever had, even better than the one he’d written me on a Post-it.

I burrowed into his shirt, wrapping my arms around his waist. My hands, still cold, slipped beneath the loose hem of his plaid shirt and into the back pockets of his jeans.

We stood there, holding each other, for a long while until behind me the door slid open and Dad’s voice broke through the silence.

“Come on inside, you two. It’s cold. Jackson, would you like coffee?”

“That would be great,” Jackson said over my head. “Thanks, Nate.”

I kept my arms tight around Jackson even as Dad moved back inside the house. But the door was still open, letting the cold into the house, so I reluctantly let him go.

“I’m sorry.” Jackson’s hands came to my shoulders, holding me captive. “I’m so sorry. I fucked up and acted like a dick.”

“Yes, you did.” I sighed. “But I get it. You had a lot on your mind.”

“I’m still sorry.” Jackson let me go and looked me up and down. When his gaze landed on my bare feet, he frowned. “Shit. You’re probably freezing. Come on.”

I wasn’t cold, not in Jackson’s arms, but I didn’t argue as he grabbed one of my hands to drag me inside. Just as he was closing the door behind us, Mom and Dad came back to the dining room, each with two coffee cups.

Dad handed one over to Jackson as Mom gave me mine, then Dad motioned to the table. “Sit down. We need to have a discussion.”

Jackson gave me a sideways look, hesitantly pulling out a chair. His eyes were bloodshot. He smelled like the bar and a bottle of tequila. As he sat, he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to work out a kink.

The only explanation for him being in the same clothes and walking home this morning was that he’d slept at the bar.

I might not be mad at him anymore, but I didn’t feel bad for him either. He could have slept in my warm, soft bed but he’d chosen not to. If his solution was to get drunk instead of talking through his problems, then he deserved this hangover.

Though I’d still massage his neck later.

“So we might as well not beat around the bush,” Mom said. “Willa told us about what happened with your mother yesterday.”

Jackson shot me a look. “Did she?”

Whoopsie. I probably should have gotten permission before spilling his life story to my parents. I’d only told them because I’d needed them to understand the entire story before asking their advice. Still, it wasn’t my story to share.

Before I could apologize to Jackson, Dad spoke up. “We don’t keep secrets in this family.”

“No offense, Nate,” Jackson shot back, “but we’re not family.”

Dad’s face hardened. “Do you have feelings for my daughter?”

“Yes,” Jackson replied immediately.

“Then you’re a part of this family, and when one of us is having a hard time, we talk it through.”