Page 62 of Mountain Freedom
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just processing that. How?”
“Looks like an overdose.”
She was silent for a beat. “Will it offend you if I say that’s kind of fitting?”
I snorted. “Nah.”
“You know I have a hard time feeling compassion for him after the way he treated you,” she said, her voice quiet. “But I also understand he was your father. I want you to know that you’re allowed to feel however you feel about it. It’s okay to be happy, sad, or both. This is complicated, and whatever you’re feeling? It’s okay with me.”
I gripped the phone in my hand and closed my eyes, leaning back against the counter. “Thanks, Mom. I think I’m feeling a lot of different things honestly. Relief. Hurt. You’re right. It’s complicated.”
“What do you need right now?”
I smiled, unable to help it. It was Mom’s favorite question. She asked because she legitimately wanted to know, and if she could meet that need, she would. She was one of those rare people you could actually count on.
But the image that sprang to mind wasn’t something she could give me. I needed Allison. And that was the one thing I couldn’t have. Not in the way I wanted, anyway.
So I shifted my mind to more practical things. “I’m the only family Russell had left. I need to do some kind of burial for him or something. I don’t know.” I ran my hand through my hair, feeling exhausted from thinking about it. This was completely out of my scope of experience, and it wasn’t something I was looking forward to at all.
“You’re a good person, Jackson.” Mom’s voice was soft. “And you don’t have to handle that alone. Dad and I will pack bags and drive up tonight. We’ll help with the arrangements and stand with you.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, my voice feeling thick.
“I’ll put together some sort of meal afterward,” she said. “Just tell me how many people you think you might want to have there. Greg and the rest, I’m assuming?”
“Yeah,” I said, letting out a breath, knowing Greg would be there for my sake—not Russell’s. Truth was, I was probably the only one who would actually be there as any sort of griever. But I’d have people there to support me, and that meant something. “And Allison.”
“Allison?” Mom’s tone perked up. “Are we talking about Allison Bell?”
“Yeah,” I said, grinning at the change in Mom’s mood. “I’m surprised you remember her name.”
“How could I forget the girl my son talked about nonstop as a kid?” She sounded amused. “I didn’t know you guys were back in touch.”
“She moved back a few weeks ago,” I explained, feeling sudden guilt for not mentioning it to Mom sooner. I hadn’t thought of myself as being deliberately evasive, but I hadn’t really wanted to answer any questions.
“That’s wonderful. I can’t wait to meet her.” Mom’s voice was full of warmth. “What does she do?”
“She’s a doctor now. Just took over Doc Rogers’s old practice.”
“That’s great! Tell me everything.”
So I did. Somehow, Mom knew exactly what I needed. I couldn’t have Allison, but talking about her to someone who was interested turned out to be the next best thing. By the time wehung up the phone so Mom could pack up to drive in, I was feeling about a thousand times lighter than I had before.
Allison didn’t textthat morning, and I didn’t reach out, either. I missed her more than I wanted to admit to myself, but some space was good. No matter how in love with her I was, nothing had changed. Not really. I was Russell Sharp’s son, and I wasn’t going to risk bringing that kind of darkness into Allison’s world. She deserved better than that.
But I’ll admit, when I walked into the coffee shop that afternoon and saw Allison sitting at a table with another man, I wanted to throw all my good intentions out the window.
She was listening intently as the man talked, so engrossed in what he was saying that she didn’t even notice me walk in. I ground my teeth and walked up to the counter to order, trying to keep my eyes from wandering over to her table.
I was unsuccessful.
When I got my drink, I decided to say hi. That was what a friend would do, right? Of course it was. It had nothing to do with my inner caveman wanting to go over and stake my claim.
I put on my official Rosemary Mountain grin, the one that let people know I worked for them and was on their side. Then I walked over to their table with practiced nonchalance.
“Hey, Allison,” I said when she looked up.
Relief flashed on her face. “Jackson! Hi! I’ve been wanting to check on you today. How are you?”
