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"Does that mean yes, but you don't want to talk about it, because it's not great?" Laurel asks. "Or does it mean no?"
"It means I'm an adult woman and I can date whoever I want," I say. "I can also sleep with anyone I want. As long as I do it safely."
Jackson tries to come up with some logic to argue against it, but he doesn't quite find it. "You know he's an asshole, right?"
"Of course," I say.
"Does he know I'll kill him if he hurts you?" Jackson asks.
Zack laughs at the threat. "Get real, J." When Jackson cringes at Zack and Laurel's favorite nickname, Zack smiles. Mission to frustrate accomplished. "Maybe you'd hire someone to kill for you, but you'd never get your hands dirty."
"That's still murder," Jackson says. "Have you never seen a cop show before?"
"I think you could do it, Jackson." Laurel stays as difficult as Zack. "You could murder anyone you want, any way you want. There's nothing wrong with delegating."
Jackson rubs his temples. "Fuck, can you two take anything seriously for more than thirty seconds?" He stands and shakes his head I cannot with you two. He crosses the space to me. "Let's talk."
"We can talk," I say. "But I'm not going to change my stance."
"I know." He motions for me to follow him away from the table. When I do, he leads me around the pool, to the far corner of the backyard with the olive tree we used to climb when we were kids.
The place we sat when I told him I liked Damon.
When I told him I kissed Damon.
When I told him Damon forgot it.
When I told him about a million times Damon frustrated, annoyed, or hurt me.
The karaoke night he crashed. The birthday of Daphne's he forgot. The graduation party where he showed up drunk and picked a fight with Daphne's boyfriend.
The time he found my notebook of lyrics, read without permission, and laughed at my attempt to bare my soul.
He was tipsy or drunk all these other times. I haven't seen him drink once.
But why?
Maybe he's following his parents' rules. Maybe he doesn't drink and work. Maybe he doesn't drink around me.
But he must be indulging after we part.
Do I need to watch him carefully at the pitch to make sure he doesn't go too hard?
No. He has a high tolerance. Unless he starts doing shots, he won't get plastered at a twenty-minute meeting. But if we go to a party…
We need to talk about that, but how the hell could I possibly tell Damon Webb I'll only do this if you don't get drunk.
He'll back out.
And I need him.
Jackson notices me drifting into my thoughts and clears his throat.
I find my footing. The feeling of the dirt beneath my boots. The cool breeze. Music from a faraway neighbor's house.
"I understand why you don't want to tell those yahoos anything." Jackson leans against the tree and looks at our siblings from afar. Of course, they're still trading barbs and sipping cocktails, as if they haven't even noticed our absence.
They are uncouth, yes, but who uses the word yahoos? "Yahoos, really?"
"Don't, Cassie. I know that game. You're not going to distract me." He lets out an exhausted sigh. "Everything is a joke to them. It was cute when they were teenagers. Not anymore."
"They're not that old." I'm twenty-six. Zack and Laurel are both twenty-five.
"They're old enough to know better. You are too." He leaves you're old enough to know better than to fuck Damon Webb unsaid.
"It's about the project, Jackson, really." That is true, at least. "He may be an asshole, but he's a talented musician. And he's turning over a new leaf." He is, actually. Damon has been oddly… okay. Almost sweet, even.
"You believe that?" Jackson asks.
"I don't know," I say.
"So you're not sleeping with him?" he asks.
I shoot him a don't look.
"No. I'm always going to protect you. Especially from guys like Damon."
A month ago, I would have agreed with his hatred and distrust. I would have hugged him and said thank you and struggled with everything I wanted to add about how Damon hurt me.
Now?
This whole conversation feels silly. What could Jackson possibly do to protect me from Damon, short of actual murder?
Even if he killed Damon, he wouldn't erase my feelings. I'd still feel drawn to him and unsure I can trust him. I'd still need him.
I take a deep breath and let out a slow exhale. Jackson is trying to help. I do appreciate it. I just wish he, and Zack and Laurel, would give me more space to make my own decisions without their opinions. "We're committed to this project together. If we get it, we'll spend a lot of time together. Are you going to babysit our jam sessions?"
"You know I will if you ask." He looks me in the eyes with that same perfect clarity. He's willing to do anything if it means the best for me. "I don't trust him."
