“No, you don’t,” said Evan, wondering if there was a secret meaning in Jackson’s comment. Jackson shook his head again, clearly exasperated.
Evan supposed he could tell Jackson about Olivia, but he was fairly certain that Jackson would then immediately run a background check and want to set up a time for her to come to dinner with the family at Deveraux House. The very thought of any of that filled his stomach with knots.
He recognized the feeling. He and his therapist had long chats about that feeling about what to do about it. He took a deep breath and worked through his checklist. Was this fear based on any current actions or were they based on his own projections?
Would dinner with Jackson be that bad? He glanced over at Jackson and felt himself relax. It wasn’t Jackson. It was Grandma. Dinner with Jackson probably would be fine. Olivia might even like him. He hoped Olivia would like him. Everyone liked Aiden, and Dominique would be liked if she wanted to be likable, but he thought Olivia might enjoy meeting Jackson. They shared a lack of pretense that they might find refreshing in each other. The problem was that Jackson worked for Grandma, literally and figuratively.
He missed feeling close to Jackson. It was like the stupid autopsy report had robbed him of the ability to connect. Being sober hadn’t helped either. Everything that had been easy was now hard. Admittedly, a lot of the things that had been hard were now a hell of a lot easier, but he sometimes missed the social lubricant that drugs had provided. And somehow it had been easier to be blatantly honest when he’d been high. He could always mask it as being rude. Jackson hadn’t ever seemed bothered by the rudeness though. Evan sighed. He needed to talk to someone. He wanted to talk to Jackson. But he didn’t think he could launch into the autopsy report.
“You thinking deep thoughts or did I miss a spot shaving?”
Evan almost smiled.
“I…” he started to speak and Jackson looked over, inquiringly. “I feel like I don’t get to run my own life.” Evan blurted out to stop himself from talking about anything else. “I like riding the train. It’s mine.”
Jackson’s shoulders dropped a few inches. “I know. I’m sorry. But on the other hand, I cannot, as Dominique puts it, have anyone squashing Deveraux’s.”
“It sets a very bad precedent?” asked Evan.
“Exactly,” said Jackson. “She’s been quite firm about it.” As if Jackson hadn’t been equally firm about it.
“She probably wouldn’t mind if I got squashed a little,” said Evan, shifting to look out the window.
“No, she’s been very clear on the subject,” said Jackson.
“You asked specifically if I was included?” demanded Evan skeptically.
“Yes, I did,” said Jackson. “Once, when you were being an asshole.”
“I’m always an asshole,” said Evan with a shrug.
“Yes, but you were being an asshole tome. Dominque saidnothough.”
Evan tried to process that. He did not doubt that Jackson could beat the shit out of him if he cared to. As yet, Jackson showed no inclination to do so. He also couldn’t figure out why Dominique would forbid it. “So I remain unsquashed?”
“Yes,” said Jackson, laughing.
“I don’t know why,” said Evan, looking out the window again.
“Third amazing thought,” said Jackson, “maybe we like you.”
Evan eyed him and fought the smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“You people are insane.”
“Well, yes, but that’s why you likeus,” said Jackson.
“No, I don’t. Aiden never talks about anything real. Dominique won’t tell anyone what she’s up to, and you’re hard to get along with.”
“I really am,” agreed Jackson. “But uh, speaking of people who don’t tell anyone what they’re up to…” He glanced over at Evan.
“I’m not up to anything,” Evan said guiltily.
“Brat moya,” said Jackson, laughing. “Your face is trying to disagree with you.”
“Jackson,” said Evan tiredly. “Can’t I just have something that’s mine?”
Jackson seemed about to speak but stopped as they pulled up a stoplight. The car idled and they both stared at the light. “Of course you can,” said Jackson, at last. “But we worry about you.Iworry about you.”