Page 59 of Mountain Freedom
“This,” she said, turning toward me and opening her eyes. There was an earnest look in them, a longing I recognized. “I had almost forgotten this.”
“Almost forgotten what?” I moved toward her without realizing it, standing so close we nearly touched. There was a good two inches between our bodies, but I could almost feel her just the same.
She gave me a long look, one that was filled with a complicated mix of emotions I couldn’t fully identify. “This. How the world works differently here. Life doesn’t just continue on at the same fast pace, come rain or high water. A rainstorm likethis, here, is almost magic. It can slow everything down. Stop life in its tracks. Force you to just experience it for once—to step outside onto your porch to listen to the rain and watch it dripping from the roof.” She held out a cupped hand and let the water hit her palm, filling it, like she was collecting a precious gift.
“That’s true,” I said. “The weather dictates life here on the mountain, whether we like it or not.”
“It’s such a gift to slow down,” she said quietly, still letting the raindrops bounce off the palm of her hand. She finally turned her hand upside down, letting the water inside fall to the earth with the rest, then turned back to me. Her face was still that mix of emotion, somehow full of trouble and peace at the same time.
“It is,” I agreed, wishing time would slow down completely. I could stand out here with her listening to the rain for the rest of my life if the world would just let us.
“I had forgotten,” she said again, almost in a whisper.
“Forgotten what?”
She looked up at me, and her expression finally changed, like she had somehow let go of the trouble that was clouding it and grabbed on to the peace with both hands. “I had almost forgotten what it feels like to be free.”
I wasn’t sure how it happened—whether she reached for me or I reached for her—but suddenly her head was on my chest and my arms wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her like I never wanted to let go.
It felt right. But it was wrong. We had already agreed to just be friends. Nothing could happen between us.
Without meaning to, I had broken our pact. I had fallen in love with my best friend.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Allison
With my eyes closed,I let my mind drift away, focusing only on the sound of the rain falling on the tin roof of the porch. For the first time in so very long, I felt completely at peace.
But as the realization slowly dawned that I was embarrassing myself, clinging to Jackson like he was mine, I slowly pulled away.
“Thanks,” I said, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. “I guess I needed a hug with everything that’s been going on. It’s all been a lot, you know?”
“Anytime,” he said in that rich voice of his, which was becoming almost as familiar as the one he’d had as a kid. It was surreal in a way, connecting this Jackson standing in front of me—amanin every sense of the word—with the little boy who had been my childhood best friend.
And suddenly, I felt restless, itchy, and desperate to do something—anything—other than stand on this porch with him.If we stayed here, I might throw myself into his arms again, and that would be breaking our pact.
Friends.
That’s all we were and all we could be. He had made his position abundantly clear last night, and if I had hoped he would change his mind after Russell’s death, our afternoon at the creek had made me realize he wouldn’t. There was still too much pain there, too much blame, and too much worry that part of him came from that man.
Jackson needed a friend more than ever, and I needed to respect his boundaries and be that for him. But it was fine. It was just a hug. I had needed comfort after a cathartic day, and he had provided it, like any friend would.
“What’s wrong?” His eyes narrowed as he searched my face.
“Nothing.” I smiled brightly and turned my gaze away from him, looking again at the rain falling steadily on my gravel driveway. The low spots had already become dark puddles, and the sight of them brought back memories.
“Where’d you go?” Jackson asked softly. He reached out and rubbed my arm before dropping his hand again, shoving it into his pocket.
I moved my own hand up to the place where he had touched, trying somehow to keep the feeling there. “I was just remembering how, when we were kids, we’d run through the rain. It would be pouring cats and dogs and we’d both run outside into the yard, splashing in the puddles and catching raindrops on our tongues. Remember that? Mama would get so mad because I’d come back to the house wet and muddy, and she’d have to put me straight into a bath. Unless it was storming and she couldn’t, in which case I’d have to sit on the kitchen floor until the lightning stopped.” I laughed out loud. “We were silly, weren’t we? Entertaining ourselves that way.”
He grinned, his face relaxing again. “Entertainment options were slim, Allison. I’d say we did the best we could with what we had.”
“It was fun,” I admitted.
A devilish look came into his eyes. “Want to do it again?”
My jaw dropped, even as I felt the grin spread across my face. “We can’t.”
