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Liam’s siblings.
He had four of them, but if memory served, the youngest was away at college somewhere.
Smiling, he put the note down and immediately opened the cake box. He knew right away it was from Henderson's and appreciated how Liam’s family thought enough about him to get something from his hometown to make him feel at home.
His smile grew when he saw the perfect variety of Mrs. Henderson’s baked goods—brownies, a cinnamon roll, two cupcakes, a giant chocolate chip cookie, a black and white cookie, an apple turnover, and a peanut butter bar.
“Screw dinner,” he said, picking up the peanut butter bar. “If there’s milk in the fridge, I am set!”
And sure enough, there was.
He allowed himself a few minutes to enjoy the sweets before checking out the apartment.
It was a basic two-bedroom place with a decent-sized living room and a kitchen/dining room combo. There were two bathrooms and there was a laundry closet with a stackable unit. Between all of this and the fact that he could have just about anything else he needed delivered, it was possible that he’d stay holed up in here until he was mentally prepared to see his family.
Which reminded him…
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Jackson walked into the living room and sat down on the sectional. No one knew he was back, but they all knew he’d had surgery and was in recovery mode. His brothers reached out to him almost daily, and while he appreciated it, he knew they were just checking up on him to make sure he didn’t get too depressed over his circumstances.
Too late…
He’d heard his phone ding with a notification on the drive from the airport, but he’d ignored it. Now he swiped the screen and saw a text from his brother Garrett.
G: Hey! So check this out, I treated a toy poodle today and his name was Jackson! LOL!
Frowning, he wished there was an emoji to flip his brother off. As a veterinarian, his brother was the best there was, but as a brother, he was an asshole.
Then there was a picture of said poodle who looked like he weighed three pounds and was afraid of his own shadow.
J: You’re a dick
Putting the phone down, he figured it would be a while before Garrett responded, but…no such luck
G: Are you pouting right now? I’d bet good money that you’re pouting.
J: Nope. No pouting. Just sitting here hoping some animal either bites or shits on you today.
G: Lol! So I can tell you’re in a mood. What’s going on?
Ugh…where do I even begin?
J: No mood. Everything’s cool.
When his brother didn’t reply right away, Jackson was relieved. But then…
G: You know you’re going to have to talk about this eventually, right? I mean, we all know you’re not okay with this injury. Why is it so hard for you to admitit?
He glared down at his phone for a solid minute and considered simply letting the conversation go and turning off his phone.
But he wasn’t a coward.
J: If you all know it, then why do I have to talk about it? Am I pissed that I’m injured? Yes! Does it hurt? Hell yes! I spend most of my time answering that question from my doctors and physical therapist and superiors. Now I have to do it with my family too? Give me a freaking break, G!
G: Okay, okay. My bad.
The sad face emoji was added for emphasis, he supposed.
G: No more talk about you. Want some family gossip?
