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Chapter Thirty-Four
Lena
Iwasn’t surprised when Jackson informed me that Brodie wouldn’t be joining us for dinner. He had a date almost every night when he wasn’t working the bar.
“Smells good.” Brodie strolled into the kitchen right before leaving for his date. He stuck his finger in the sauce and put it to his lips. “It is good. Now I’m almost sorry I have other plans.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I’d felt uneasy around Brodie since walking into that conversation he’d had with Jackson before I moved upstairs.
“Lena,” he paused, waiting for me to look at him. “I’m sorry about the things I said last week.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. I’m not a mean guy … normally.”
“Normally?”
“I mean, I worry about my brother.”
“Well, you needn’t worry. Nothing is going on between us.”
He frowned. “That’s debatable, but not the point. I like you and want you to know that what I said the other day, well, it was nothing personal.”
“It felt personal.” God, where’d Jackson go? I did not want to have this conversation with Brodie right now. Or anytime. Ever.
“I’m sorry. I guess what I’m trying to say is, Jackson tends to … well, obsess about helping people. And I don’t want him to get hurt.”
We all knew the possibilities of Troy finding me and causing a world of trouble for not only me but for them, as well.
“Well, don’t worry. I won’t let that happen. I haven’t told Jackson yet, but I’ll be leaving at the end of next month after I’ve made enough money to pay you both back for your hospitality and also make enough to get me back on the road.”
He took a step back, his eyes wide with surprise. “Oh.”
“Let’s keep that to ourselves, though, if you don’t mind. Otherwise, you and I both know that Jack will spend the entire month trying to coax me to stay.”
“Right. I guess you know him better than I thought you did, but you also know that’s going to hurt him.”
“I’ll try my best to keep things casual. I like him, but not that way,” I lied. “And I don’t want to hurt him.”
* * *
The chicken Marsalaturned out delicious. Not tasting too much like wine, with enough butter to give it a creamy texture. I’d learned to make it perfect for Troy or he’d have rewarded me with a backhand across my cheek.
We ate in silence. The wine Jackson brought home went very well with it too. He must have liked it because I caught him scraping his fork over every last drop of sauce on his plate.
“The parade was fantastic today. I’m so glad we didn’t miss it,” I said, breaking the silence.
“That would have been a shame. I’m glad we caught it, too. Wow, Lena, that was fantastic. I am now, officially, a chicken Marsala fan.”
I stood to clear the dishes from the table and Jackson joined in to help. I didn’t quite know how to react to that initially since it was something Troy would have never dreamed of doing. I didn’t know why I was so surprised about Jack’s willingness to help tonight. He’d done everything every other night, and it had been me offering to help him, which at first he wouldn’t let me do because of my injuries. I was healed now. The side of my back still hurt a bit where Troy had kicked me, but nothing like it first did.
There were only a few things left to clean up, and I was looking forward to going back upstairs and collapsing into bed. It had been my first day out, and I was exhausted.
“After we finish cleaning up, I need to do some practicing. You can join me if you’d like. I’ll build a fire. Dancing flames seem to help me think.” Jackson finished drying a plate and placed it in the cupboard.
“Oh.” I was tired, but the prospect of listening to him play, and me jamming along, was too much to pass up. “Okay. Go ahead out, and I’ll finish up here.”
After wiping down the counter until it was spotless, another rule of Troy’s, I went into the living room to find Jackson in the big easy chair, guitar in hand, the fire roaring. My fingers practically itched with the anticipation of strumming the chords on his spare guitar. And there it was, leaning against the side of the sofa. Jackson looked up and smiled. “Go on. Pick it up.”
