Jackson: Chapter 3

Jackson leaned back in his chair, lifting the mug of coffee to his lips. He needed coffee in an IV right now. He’d barely slept.

How could he when thoughts of River plagued him? Consumed him? Tormented his damn mind?

Not just because the woman was sporting a black eye that had nearly sent him into a rage or because she wouldn’t tell him who the hell had given it to her so he could beat the shit out of him. But because he hadn’t been in the same room as her in over sixteen years. He hadn’t heard that voice, touched that delicate skin. Yet, yesterday, he’d done all of that.

Declan and Cole sat across from him at the circular table outside Penguin Café. They were talking about something that Jackson had long ago stopped following.

She was all he could think about. Before he’d noticed the black eye, he’d almost been in a trance. So fixated on her, everything else had faded.

She’d been pissed at him. Why? Because of what he’d said the night before he left? Or was it something more recent? She’d emphasized that he’d finally returned. Was she angry he hadn’t been back before now?

Jackson scrubbed a hand down his face. It was probably everything. He was an asshole. He hadn’t felt deserving of her then, and he still didn’t today.

“Tell us the truth, J, you ruled this town with Ryker, didn’t you?”

At Declan’s words, Jackson turned back to them. “Nope. The only reason I didn’t get my ass beat at school every day was because Ryker was there.”

He’d been an angry teenager. Every damn day. Angry at his abusive, alcoholic father for laying into him all the time. For not giving a single fuck about him. And at his mother for disappearing.

Anger had been just about all he could feel…until Ryker.

Cole’s brows tugged together. “Yeah, Ryker was good like that. Remember our second deployment in South America? We were drinking in that dive of a bar and I almost punched the leader of that gang?”

Declan chuckled. “Yeah, with how drunk we all were, there was no way we’d have survived that one.”

“He saved our asses more times than we could probably count,” Jackson said quietly.

“Hell, the man carried me on his back across the Middle East on that final mission. I owe him my life.” Cole’s jaw tensed. “Owed.”

A heavy silence fell around the table. Their final mission had been hell. They’d barely made it out alive.

Jackson blew out a long breath. “We should have kept in contact more.”

They’d said they would. Hell, after their last mission went to shit and they’d made the decision to leave active duty, he’d assumed they’d be in touch every day.

But they’d each returned to different states, licking their wounds, and it hadn’t happened.

“We got busy,” Declan said, eyes on the street beside them. “Me with my brother at his garage in Camden.” He dipped his head toward Cole. “You were with your family in Chicago, recovering from your broken back.”

Cole grunted. “Yeah, it took too damn long.”

Declan shot his gaze to Jackson. “And you with the security work you were doing in Boston.”

Jackson’s jaw ticked. What he’d really been doing was trying to find a place for himself in the world that didn’t involve Lindeman or the military. Trying to figure everything out. It hadn’t worked. He shook his head. “We should have tried harder.”

Maybe then things would have been different.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Cole said, leaning forward. “But the police report says his car skidded on the wet road, probably avoiding an animal. That’s a tragedy, Jackson, not something we could have saved him from.”

It was a goddamn tragedy.

Declan frowned, eyes on something across the road. “Is that your girl, J?”

His girl?

He followed Declan’s gaze to find River across the street. His gut clenched.

She had a camera bag strung across her oversized purple sweatshirt. Shorts poked out beneath, and her legs…they were long and smooth and on full display. She stepped into a little shop across from the coffee shop.

His gaze lifted, scanning the sign. “Meals Made Easy,” he read under his breath.

Was it another café? He saw a big open kitchen through the windows, but there were only a couple of tables. Basically, only seats for waiting. A takeaway place?

He watched through the glass as River hugged Michele. The two had been inseparable in high school. Obviously, nothing had changed.

“She’s a food photographer, right?” Cole said, breaking into Jackson’s thoughts. “Ryker said something about her taking pictures of food and drinks?”

“He used the words ‘food and beverage stylist’,” Declan corrected.

“Same thing. She arranges the stuff and takes pictures.”

Jackson didn’t cast his gaze away. He couldn’t. He watched as she sat at one of the two tables. Her lips were moving quickly, while Michele just seemed to be listening.

His chest ached to hear her voice again. Almost as if, after depriving himself for so many years, he was now desperate to get as much of her as possible.

“She always loved taking pictures. I never saw her taking pictures of food. The outdoors, however…she used to chase the sunsets. Do whatever she needed to do to get the best photo.”

Why hadn’t she followed that passion? Her pictures had been amazing back then, and she’d only been a teenager.

When he finally dragged his gaze back to his friends, Declan had a brow raised, and Cole had a smirk on his face. Both were staring at him.

“What?”

“You guys never—”

“No.” The word was out of his mouth before Cole could finish. Because he knew what was coming. “We were never anything but friends.”

Hell, they’d barely been that. They’d argued—a lot. Mostly about stupid shit that meant nothing.

Despite that, by senior year, he’d barely been able to look at the woman without fighting everything inside himself not to touch her. Tug her into his arms. Press his lips to hers.

He sucked in a short, sharp breath at the memories.

“Why not?” Of course, it was Dec who asked. The man was always the one to ask the obvious questions.

Jackson ran a hand through his hair. “To understand that, you’d need to grow up in a trailer park with a drunk, abusive dad. My life was everything hers wasn’t.” When Declan and Cole remained silent, he lifted his shoulders. “And it was always my plan to get the hell out of this town and never come back.”

Cole raised a brow. “Yet, here you are.”

“Yep. Here I am.”

“God, woman. Whatever you have on that stove smells a-mazing. I don’t care what I need to do, table dance, run naked down the street…I want it in my belly.”

Michele laughed, setting down a wooden spoon before placing the lid on the pot. “Well, it’s your lucky day, because I’ve made a little extra for you to take home, no dancing or nudity needed.”

River’s eyes almost rolled up into her head. “You are my angel. I could literally kiss your feet. This is why we can never stop being friends. I would starve.”

Either that or live a very bland life.

Michele grabbed two bowls of soup from the pot before setting them on the table and dropping down beside River. Her friend ran a meal delivery business, mostly servicing Lindeman and the neighboring town of Ellensburg. The service was getting more in demand every day.

She leaned forward. “I always thought you stayed friends with me for my witty personality?”

River lifted a shoulder. “Eh, I could take it or leave it.”

Michele rolled her eyes but chuckled, knowing her well enough to know River needed Michele in her life for many reasons. The main one being, because her friend kept her sane.

She pulled the spoon from the soup, sipping a bit, and this time her eyes did roll up into her head. “Holy cow, woman. This is so good.”

Michele gave her a knowing smile. “Salt. Lots of salt.”

“I thought you tried to go easy on the salt?”

Her parents had died in short succession of each other when she was little, her father of a heart attack and her mother of cancer. Since then, Michele was a bit of a health nut. Particularly careful with things like salt and sugar. Her friend was curvy, but she wasn’t overweight by any means. She had hips, a generous cleavage, and curves that most women would die for.

Michele stirred the soup in her bowl. “After everything that’s happened over the last few months, I decided that life’s too short.”

River’s heart gave a little bang against her ribs. Not only was Michele going through the grief of losing Ryker, a man she’d known for years, who was like a brother, but her uncle, the guy who’d raised her after her parents passed away, had been having heart issues.

“How’s Uncle Ottie doing?”

She lifted a shoulder. “He tells me he’s fine, but I know the truth. And he’s like the definition of health. So if he’s not safe, no one is.” She sighed. “I wish he would sell the shop and relax.”

She took her friend’s hand. “Maybe the book shop is his way of relaxing.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I know you are.”

River sipped some more of the soup. So. Damn. Good. “And you haven’t heard from Tim again?” Argh, she couldn’t even say his name without sneering it.

Michele had gone on just three dates with the man, and each one had left her friend feeling more uneasy. The stuff Michele had told River…the things he’d said…putting her down, becoming insanely jealous of other men, even though they’d barely begun dating.

Huge red flags.

“No.”

“I’m so glad you ended things,” she said, shaking her head.

“Me too.” Michele nibbled on her bottom lip, fingers thrumming the side of the bowl. “River, I need to ask you something.”

She only just held in a groan, knowing there was something on her friend’s mind she was trying to figure out how to phrase—and almost certain she knew exactly what it was. “Okay.”

Michele’s fingers stilled. “I want you to tell me what’s going on without brushing me off with excuses that you know I won’t buy.”

She’d known there was only so long before Michele pushed. “There’s nothing—”

“Don’t you dare.” Michele held up a finger, silencing River. It reminded her of what teachers would do when she’d talked out of turn at school. “We don’t do that. We don’t keep secrets from each other, and we certainly don’t lie.”

She was right. And the truth was, she’d known there would be a timeline on how long she could keep the truth from her friend.

“Fine. But you can’t freak out, and you can’t tell anyone else. I mean it. Not a single soul. Swear to me.”

“River—”

“Nope, I’m not telling until you swear.”

Michele rolled her eyes. “Fine. I swear.”

River took a deep breath before leaning across the table. “Ryker’s not dead.”

If she was expecting shock, she didn’t get it. Michele’s eyes softened into the familiar sympathy she’d been getting from everyone for the last week. River already knew what was coming.

“Oh, honey. The man drove his car off Colins Creek Bridge. The vehicle then caught on fire with him inside,” she added gently. “The coroner used his dental records to identify him.”

She shook her head. “No, I know what the coroner’s report says.” She’d asked to see it herself. Read through every single word. “I don’t believe it.”

She couldn’t believe it.

Her friend remained silent, only inhaling a long breath.

“Since coming home, he’s been angry,” River continued. “You saw it. We talked about it plenty of times.”

Michele gave a slow nod.

“But a little over a month ago, something changed. He was still angry, but it was like…the edge had worn off. Every Friday, he’d stay out almost all night. And he had all these bruises…”

Michele was nibbling on her bottom lip again. “River, I know all this. We asked him about it, remember? And he wouldn’t tell us what was going on.”

“Okay, but you don’t know this…” She wet her lips before continuing. “The night he died, I saw him.”

Her friend frowned. “When?”

“I heard a noise in his room. It woke me up. When I went in there, I saw the back of him just as he climbed out the window.” River sucked in a deep breath. “Michele, I saw him at two thirty-five in the morning. His time of death was recorded as one fifteen.”