Page 46 of Wrecked
"C'mon," my surrogate mother slipped her arm through mine, and we walked through the house to the backyard. It never ceased to amaze me how much this house felt like home to me. I was disappointed in myself for neglecting the important people in my life.
As we stepped outside, Mrs. Jackson halted me. The kids stormed ahead, and once they were out of earshot, she turned to me. "Over the years, you've become like a son to me." Her eyes scanned over my face, the love in them warming me. "And mothers notice changes that might not seem obvious to other people."
I took a breath and opened my mouth, but she silenced me with a shake of her head. "I know you're not a talker, Brett. You are just as closed up as Eli. I also know that you have been carrying a lot of hurt inside your heart."
Her caring tone and the look of worry on her face had me turning mine away. I focused on Molly and Flynn throwing a Frisbee at each other while Dozer desperately tried to catch it mid-air.
"No," loving fingers forced my face back to hers. "Look at me, son. This is a small town; you already know that I know most of what's happening. I don't need details, but I need you to listen to me. Don't let bullheadedness keep you from what you're supposed to have."
She leveled me with a stare as the weight of her words settled. How could she possibly know that it wasn't stubbornness keeping me from Kenzie? I prided myself on not being a stupid man. Driving hundreds of miles to tell a woman that I loved her and could not breathe without her while knowing she didn't feel the same, was the very definition of stupid.
I didn't say that to Mrs. Jackson though. Instead, I nodded and went with "Yes, Ma'am." Her eyes warned she had more to say, but I think she took pity on me as she wordlessly dragged me to where everyone was huddled around the table.
She squeezed my arm before she moved to give her husband a kiss where he sat at his usual spot at the end of the table. Mr. Jackson pulled her close and stole another kiss before he allowed her to slip onto the chair next to him.
The relationship they shared reminded me so much of my own parents, maybe that was why I always felt like I was home when I was with them. After grabbing a beer from the cooler box, I moved to shake Mr. Jackson's hand. He squeezed it with a "Son, good to see you."
I greeted him and then dropped onto the empty chair at the other end of the table. My gaze bounced from one person to the next in greeting. As usual Logan and Harper were as close together as they could possibly get without being on top of each other. Chase was leaned back in his chair, his usualI-don't-have-a-care-in-the-world-lookspread all over his demeanor. Opposite him, Eli was sporting a rare smile while he toyed with the label of his beer; I had no doubt he was watching his little girl.
The only one missing was Lizzy. She used to come to Friday BBQs all the time but, much like me, she just stopped. I had a suspicion it had something to do with Chase. It must be all sorts of awkward realizing you had feelings for someone who's supposed to be a friend.
I pressed deeper into the back of my chair and spread my legs wide. These were my people, and even though there would always be a hole the size of Texas in my chest, I still had them.
"Tell me, Brett," Mr. Jackson's voice broke through my thoughts. "When are you going to give those skills you have the attention they deserve?"
One year I'd made Mrs. Jackson a vase for her birthday and from then on Mr. Jackson had been on my case to open up my own studio. The thing was I was happy working at the shop.
"That's a good question, Pop." Logan joined in.
A grin lifted my lips, "If you're so eager for me to leave the shop, I could always come help out here."
Mr. Jackson smacked his hands together, "Now that's a splendid idea. Chris would only be too happy to have an extra set of hands." I wasn't fooled by the serious expression on the older man's face, my friend, however, was.
Just as Logan's brows started to pull together, the entire table burst out laughing. Even I joined in, and it felt great to just be in the moment with friends. A coughing fit stole Mr. Jackson's laughter which earned him a glare from his wife.
She shook her index finger at him, "Charles, you know you're not supposed to smoke." The look on Mr. Jackson's face was priceless. I had no doubt he was in for a long speech as soon as we left.
Mrs. Jackson gave him another pointed stare before turning her attention to Harper, her voice as sweet as honey. "So when can I get all dolled up and see my son get married, hmm?"
Logan chuckled and then side-eyed Harper, "I've been wondering the same thing, Momma." That earned him a smack to the chest from his beloved fiancée.
"I still don't have a dress. I barely have time these days and with there being no shop in Willow Creek…" She shrugged her shoulders.
"Aw, Sugar," Logan nudged her shoulder. "I don't care about the dress; it's what's underneath it that I want." The grin he gave her left no doubt in any of our minds what was on his.
Harper shook her head, and another bout of laughter erupted. At the other end of the table, Mr. Jackson's laugh morphed into another coughing fit. This time, though, his wife's backhand flew to his shoulder as she shook her head in disappointment.
We might have been laughing, but we also knew that Mrs. Jackson was worried about her husband's health. On more than one occasion I'd heard her say that she was terrified of the day she had to face the world without Charles Jackson by her side.
"I'm going to get started on the salad," Harper announced when the laughter died down, and she pushed to her feet and started walking toward the house only to stop next to me. "Wanna give me a hand?"
The way she demanded it, left no room for negotiation. "Uh, sure."
"What's the matter with you?"
I was about to take a swig from my beer when her hissing question stopped me mid-way. Curious, I scanned the kitchen to see if there was anyone else besides Harper and me in the kitchen. I saw no one, but still, I poked my chest and asked, "You talking to me?"
She planted her hands on her hips, "Yes you, dummy."
