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Jackson’s face reddened and his mouth flattened. “Let Dog back in.”
Pretty sure Jackson needed a moment to collect himself, Wyatt did as asked. Dog went straight to her empty food bowl, but she could wait for a little while longer. Wyatt went back to bed and wrapped himself around Jackson, hoping the older man wasn’t done with his story. It hadn’t concluded yet.
When Jackson didn’t say anything, Wyatt prompted him. “Long story short?”
“It was good for a few weeks. Regular sex, good food, my own room, an allowance to buy clothes and shit.” Jackson reversed their positions so he was now spooned up behind Wyatt, telling his truths to the back of Wyatt’s head. “Then the john had a party, and I was the featured favor. They fed me drugs and alcohol, and I don’t remember a lot of that night. Only wakin’ up disoriented, naked, in agonizing pain, with the john’s dead body next to me. His head was bashed in with a glass paperweight.”
“Jesus fuck,” Wyatt said. “Oh my God.” He wanted to turn around and hug Jackson, but being the one doing the hugging seemed to be what Jackson needed right now. To spill these secrets without being looked at.
“I was obviously arrested after a brief stay in the hospital. The charges went up and down, and I didn’t have anyone in my corner except a public defender. Because of my medical records from that night, I was convicted of manslaughter instead of murder.”
“Manslaughter?” Wyatt sat up, the covers falling away but he didn’t care. He stared down at Jackson, horrified. “You went to jail?”
“I went to prison for three years.” Jackson still spoke to the pillow where Wyatt’s head had been a moment ago. “I don’t remember hittin’ him in the head, but my prints were on the paperweight. My attorney tried to argue that it was circumstantial, because I’d been living in the house, but I was a hooker. That’s what the prosecutor called me and it’s all the jury saw, so I went away. I’ve spent the better part of twenty years tryin’ to remember that night but I don’t, and it’s probably for the best, because I remember way too much about those three years in prison.”
“I’m so sorry.” Wyatt would never ask about those things. Not because he didn’t care, but because he could guess and the pain in Jackson’s one visible eye was too stark not to notice. Wyatt had seen way too much on TV and could easily imagine the things Jackson had survived.
“It’s the past but it’s what you wanted to know.” He snorted, the sound part angry and part surprised. “You’re only the second person I’ve ever told all that to.”
Wyatt took a stab in the dark. “Wayne Woods?”
“No. When I interviewed for the job, I was honest with him about my time in prison, but he didn’t ask for the details. He knows I was convicted and served time, and he hired me anyway. No, I told Brand about it a year or so ago.”
Shock hit him in the chest, and it took Wyatt a few seconds to find his breath. “I didn’t know you and Brand were that close.”
“It’s complicated and real simple.” Jackson sat up, his face twisted into something kind of pained. “This is probably gonna make me sound like a giant hypocrite, but Brand and I had an arrangement these last couple of years that ended when he got together with Hugo. Before that, actually.”
“An arrangement?”
“We fucked. It started before I got hired, if that helps, and it had nothing to do with mebeinghired. It was a casual thing for us both, and he was also fucking other people. So was I, when the mood struck.”
Blood pulsed in Wyatt’s temples as a headache threatened thanks to these new truth bombs. The guy he was...well, dating wasn’t the right word, but seeing? The guy he was seeing had also fucked around with his Maybe Daddy? That was beyond weird to think about, so Wyatt shoved it into the back of his mind. That particular fact mattered less than something else. “So is that why you’re all hands-off at work with me?” Wyatt asked. “Because you used to fuck your boss?”
“Yeah. Mostly, plus my time as a prostitute. I need to keep work and sex separate things, and that’s not easy when you’re fuckin’ a coworker.” Jackson sat up slowly and scooted a few inches away. “I’d also get it if you’re weirded out by all this and wanna end things between us.”
“Hell no. I mean, yeah, I’m a little weirded out by you fucking Brand, but your past is just...your past. I don’t care about that shit. I mean, I care because it’s obviously something that changed your life like crazy, but what I mean is I’m not judging you as a man for it. Hell, if I didn’t have the savings I did before traveling out here, I might’ve had to make a similar decision about making money.”
“Never.” Jackson yanked him into a fierce, unexpected hug. “As long as I am alive and able to help, you will never end up in that kind of position. I am thankful every single day I was there last weekend when those guys took you outside.”
Wyatt rested his chin on Jackson’s shoulder. “Me too.” He glanced to his left and smiled. “Not to interrupt the moment, but Dog is giving me some serious puppy eyes. I think she’s hungry.”
Laughter rumbled from Jackson’s chest into his. “I bet. How about I feed Dog, we both take a shower, and then we go get breakfast at the truck stop.”
Wyatt pulled back just far enough to rub his nose against Jackson’s. “Sounds like a plan, boss. Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter Thirteen
After a leisurely breakfast at the truck stop, they bought a few bottles of water and some snacks, and then spent a few hours exploring the terrain around the motel with Dog as their constant companion. Jackson had not expected to spill so much of his personal past to Wyatt this morning, but something about Wyatt just made him comfortable. Urged him to open up and be honest about things he preferred not thinking about. Ever.
A few of his demons had tried to strangle him during his confessions, but Wyatt’s constant presence and support kept them at bay, and Jackson was grateful for that. More grateful than he could say, so he tried to show it by buying Wyatt breakfast, and then showing him some of his favorite places to hike.
Dog loped around them, happy for the exercise, and her constant headbutting of Wyatt’s leg spoke loudly to how much she liked Wyatt. And Wyatt seemed to like her right back, ruffling her soft ears and scratching her back whenever she was within reach. Fast friends. They paused several times to take pictures of the land, to sit on rocks and snack on beef jerky, or just to make out for a while. Jackson was quickly getting addicted to kissing Wyatt Gibson.
Sometimes Wyatt got super-quiet while they walked, and Jackson wasn’t sure if Wyatt was mulling over everything Jackson told him this morning, or if Wyatt was thinking about his own past and reasons for being here. This mysterious search for his biological father that he refused to open up about. Jackson would help him if he asked, offer up his own limited resources, but Wyatt seemed determined to do this by himself.
But Jackson also valued honesty above all else, and he truly hoped Wyatt would open up. That they could both get to a place where they were comfortable sharing the hard parts of their pasts. Especially if they kept pursuing this thing sizzling between them.
Jackson wanted to pursue it for all the ways it made him feel alive inside; he was terrified of doing so for all the same reasons.
