Claire
CAN BEING SO tired of fighting the battle of life alone consume you to the point that fighting anymore is futile? That is the only thing that is running through my head as Jackson starts the truck and pulls out of the parking space. I’m just so tired. I’d ask him to just take me home so that I can hide from my life, from a sister I adore but whom has moved forward, from a daughter that is just on the cusp of life and is leaving me behind. But honestly, a Dilly bar sounds good, and who doesn’t love ice cream on a stick wrapped in fudge, peanuts and a hard chocolate shell?
Jackson clears his throat, it’s a sure-fire sign of his discomfort. My natural instinct to soothe takes over and in an attempt to ease Jackson, I say as flippantly as possible, “Jackson, I’m not going to off myself. I just needed to vent.” At the look on his face, I follow up with, “Christ, lighten up!”
“Shit, Claire, I care. I can tell that you’re tired. It actually pours off of you in waves. When are you going to accept some help?”
Jackson is upset with me. I know this, but why he cares is beyond me, and really it pisses me off. “I don’t need help, Jack. I’m fine!”
“You do know what fine means right? Fucked up, Insecure, Neurotic and Emotional. So, no, Claire, you are not FINE.”
What the fuck? Where did he come up with that? I’m perfect. Tired, yes, but what single mother isn’t tired? I’ve done my job. I’ve raised two incredibly beautiful women with hearts that are genuine and kind. And he’s going to tell me that I’m fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional! What woman isn’t from time to time. Well fuck you! “Jack, I don’t want ice cream. I just want to take my TIRED ass and go home.”
“Stop being snarky. We are getting ice cream and that’s it.”
“So you are going to kidnap me? Is that what this is?”
“Jesus, woman, can you stop being so fucking sensitive?” Huffing out a breath, Jackson looks over at me and shakes his head. “Can you just give a man a fucking break? I wanna take the girl I like out for some ice cream. Okay?”
Looking over at the remarkably beautiful man to my left, I chuckle at his statement. “Okay, Jack. You want to take me for ice cream. Ice cream it is.” Then taking the leap that I need to take when it comes to this man, I follow up with a tentative, “I like you too by the way.”
The look of shock on his face is priceless. “Seriously? So are you telling me that I’m gonna get a kiss at the end of the night?” he says as he pushes my leg, letting me know that he is joking. But that simple touch sends butterflies straight to my stomach.
“Only if you are really lucky.”
“Shit, Claire, you can be such a bitch! But Jesus, I love that about you.”
He loves me! Okay, he loves an aspect of my character. That’s a start. Jackson says what he means and means what he says. He isn’t misleading. What you see is what you get with this big galoof!
He is a bigger dork than Zoey and Suzie combined. And he’s smart. You get the man started on his computers, and although yes my eyes roll because I don’t understand one word he’s talking about, the passion just takes over and it’s an attractive sight. Jackson is also quirky and shoots from the hip. Honest and kind, generous of spirit, and he has never met a stranger. He also makes me smile, which outside of my sister, friend, and daughter, isn’t something that happens often. I’m guarded and extremely private. Getting past the “Ice Queen” persona isn’t something that happens often.
“So, Legs? You want a Dilly bar?”
“You know my weakness. How do you know so much about me after all these years?”
“You wouldn’t like the answer I gave you, Claire.”
Jackson’s response is said with such frankness that I actually know that I don’t want to know where he got his information. But I already know. Because I know Jackson. I know that there is no length that he would go to if the end justified the means. “You hacked me, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. And I’m not sorry for doing it either.” This is said with so much conviction that it has my head turning toward him. He is looking out the driver’s side window, almost in embarrassment to admit to stalking me. Yes it is weird, but in a flattering kind of way. Breaking into my inner musings, Jackson continues on, “I just needed to make sure that you and Sasha were okay. You’d never answer my emails. I just needed to know that you were okay.”
“You know, Jackson, if you and Suzie actually got together with your hacking abilities, you’d be dangerous.”
“I already am dangerous with my hacking abilities, Claire. But if you put Suzie and me together, the government should be concerned. Did you know Suz hacked into the NSA at fifteen?”
“Are you kidding me, Jackson?” The look on his face is his game face. It’s the one he wore when he played twenty-three years ago, and it’s the one he wears every Sunday. “You are freaking serious, aren’t you? Suzie, sweet Suzanne Anderson. Our Suzanne Anderson hacked into the National Security Agency when she was fifteen?”
“She’s done much worse, Claire. Trust me on this,” he says, looking over at me. “Now let’s drop this and go get some ice cream.”
Just as Jackson is getting out of the truck, my snarky side makes an appearance. “Are you courting me, Jackson Alexander?”
Looking back at me through the open door he is standing in, he says, “Yes, ma’am, I am.” And then he closes the truck door.