Wow.
He was having a hard time wrapping his head around the idea.
And an even harder time getting a grip on what it meant to his own longstanding beliefs…?.
“Gram’s over the moon,” Jason said. “She and Jordan have been talking nonstop about baby showers and weddings and nurseries ever since we arrived earlier.”
Jackson drank nearly his whole beer in one draw, staring at the mirrored wall behind the bar lined with liquor bottles as if he’d never seen it before.
“Okay, what’s up?” his brother asked.
Jackson looked at him. Images from the past week played like a slideshow against the blank screen of his mind. His role as Santa, Max sitting on his lap, Max sighing under his touch, Max’s beautiful face earlier that day…?.
But it was Africa and Lincoln Williams that caught and held.
“I’ve got something to tell you,” he said.
And he knew then that he had to confess all and face the consequences. He’d already decided to give up his bid to join Lazarus, following the career path his brother had wanted for him all along. And while he hated doing it on a night like tonight, and on the heels of learning such life-altering news, like with everything else in his life, the moment he decided to do it, there was no turning back…?.
23
New Year’s Eve
HAD IT ALREADY BEEN a week since Christmas? Max found it impossible to believe. It seemed like just yesterday when she’d left Jackson’s apartment, her stomach feeling leaden, her heart sitting in the middle of it.
“Come on, Maxi! Time to get our party on!”
She stared at where her Aunt Theresa had gotten out of the car, throwing her best wrap over her shoulders like she was a long-forgotten movie star putting on airs for the paparazzi.
Her mother had already gotten out of the driver’s side and was smiling at no one and everyone.
Trying to figure out why she had ever agreed to come out with them—oh, yeah, the thought of sitting at home one more night sighing into her coffee cup had appealed to her not at all—she let herself out of the car. She didn’t realize how close they were to The Barracks and Jackson’s place until she looked down the block.
“What are we doing here?” she whispered.
“Bar hopping,” her aunt said, taking one arm.
“We want to see which place is jumping the highest,” her mom added, taking her other arm. “Oh, no…?.” She dug in her heels.
Both women ignored her and pulled.
Suddenly she felt underdressed. It was a sensation she’d maybe felt all of five times in her life.
And all of them had been connected to Jackson in some way.
“You look fine,” her mother said. “Stop fussing.”
She hadn’t realized she was until her mother had said something.
Yes, indeed, she was pulling at her white blouse and the brown distressed leather coat she had on over jeans and matching brown boots.
“You’re young and you’re freshly showered,” her aunt said. “That’s all you need.”
Max couldn’t help laughing at that.
“What?” Theresa said. “You really think any guy cares about the rest.”
“Yes, well, good thing I don’t really care about what any guy thinks, then, huh?”
Her aunt shared a look with her mother.
“Oh, shut up,” Max said under her breath.
She wasn’t sure how they knew, or how much they knew, but it was clear they knew all too well the person she’d been “drenching her britches for”—as her aunt put it—was none other than Jackson.
She hadn’t heard from him since before Christmas. And she hadn’t expected to. Of course, that hadn’t stopped her from checking her cell phone nonstop, just in case the impossible happened.
At any rate, he wasn’t working at The Barracks anymore, so she didn’t have to worry about running into him.
“What do you say we hit The Barracks first!” her aunt said.
“Let’s go for it,” her mother agreed.
An alarm bell went off in the back of Max’s head. But by the time it stopped ringing long enough for her to think clearly, they were inside the bar. And she was face to face with Jackson.
She squinted. What was he doing wearing a Santa suit?
JACKSON’S RIBCAGE FELT suddenly too small. Just seeing Max again, well, if he needed a reminder of how powerful his feelings for her were, that was it.
Merely being in the same room sent his body temperature ricocheting off the charts, as if the sun had just broken a hole through the ceiling, flooding the place with golden warmth.
Of course, part of the reason for his high body temperature might be due to the stupid Santa suit he was wearing.
When Max’s mother Cindy had called earlier in the day to say she was bringing Max by tonight, well, he had an idea…?.
One he thought might be so corny she’d laugh at him.
But it was too late now.
Well, except for the jacket.
He shrugged out of it and hung it on a bottle on the shelf behind him.
Now all he had to do was…?.
What?
His mind went blank.
The conversation with his brother in this very same place hadn’t gone anything like he’d expected it to. Outside his surprise that he was going to be an uncle in six months, he would never have expected Jason’s reaction to his Africa story, Linc’s involvement included.
Once concluded, he’d braced himself for a torrent. Instead, Jason had remained silent for the longest time…then said, “And what are your plans now?”
That was it. No full front assault. No sucker punch to the gut for having gotten into trouble. No “I told you so” or “What in the hell were you thinking?” Not even a single “You’re going to pay me back every dollar lost on getting your loser ass out of the jungle.”
Just that simple question.
So he’d told him. “I’ll concede you were right all along. I’m not meant for Lazarus…or any other security detail for that matter.”
His brother had looked around. “So this is going to be it, then?”
“Looks like. I haven’t spoken to Chuck about any long-term plans, but I will. Maybe I can expand the kitchen, buy the old hardware store next door and turn it into a restaurant.”
There was nothing wrong with those plans. He’d always enjoyed himself in the kitchen.
He’d just never thought he’d be doing it for the rest of his life.
Then Jason had said something that surprised him even more. “Find a girl, settle down, have a few kids…?.”
It was on the tip of Jackson’s tongue to say he’d already fucked that up but good.
He’d squinted at his brother. “Yeah, just what you always wanted for me.”
“No, it’s what I wanted you to want.”
“Difference being?”
“That you were never interested in it.”
They shared a smile.
“Yes, well, I guess I’m interested now,” Jackson offered.
Jason had looked at him closely. “Are you?”
No.
“Didn’t think so.”
Jackson hadn’t quite known how to respond. So he didn’t.
For so long he’d wanted to be a part of Lazarus. To work with his brother. To prove what he was made of. But his experience with Pegasus and the mission in Africa had proven the kitchen was where he belonged.
Then Jason took something out of his back pocket. A rectangular bit of paper that looked like a business card, but was creased and worn, as if it had been in there awhile.
He looked at Jackson, smoothing whatever it was out. Then he placed it on the bar and slid it toward him.
“What’s that?”
Jason didn’t answer. Instead he seemed to smile a bit as he took a silent swig from his bottle.
Jackson leaned forward. It was a business card. For Lazarus. But the name…
He’d blinked. And blinked again, certain he was imagining things.
But, no. Spelled out in neat type was something he’d wanted for so long, yet now that he had it, he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.
His name.
“I don’t understand. I fucked up.”
Jason shook his head. “No, little brother, you didn’t. You proved you have exactly what it takes. You not only got yourself and your men out alive, you did whatever you needed to, including calling Linc, in order to do it.”
He still wasn’t following him.
“The mission failed.”
“Missions often do. You know that.”
He did.
“What you did was realize you need others. That no mission is a solo mission. So welcome to Lazarus.”
Now, a week later, the worn card was still in his back pocket. He was working everything out, letting it settle in. Jason had told him when he was ready, an office was waiting for him, along with a box of cards exactly like the one he’d given him.
That his brother had it planned all this time, was just waiting for him to learn…what, exactly? Blew his mind.
Speaking of things that blew his mind…?.
It seemed like an eternity had passed since Max had entered the bar along with her mother and aunt, yet it was only a few moments.
What had she told him the last time he saw her? That he wasn’t alone?
At the time, he couldn’t have felt any more so.
Now?
Now he understood that it wasn’t success that defined him—not only professionally but personally—it was the people he relied on, the people who relied on him.
The people he loved.
He made a move toward Max and she immediately tried to break ranks and run back out the door.
Jackson nearly vaulted over the bar, gaining the attention of everyone inside and earning a couple of wolf whistles. But Max was faster, rushing out into the parking lot.
“You better not hurt her any more than you already have,” he heard her mother say as he passed.
He burst out onto the sidewalk, but she was still running.
“Max!”
She didn’t break her stride.
Damn.
Clad in nothing but a T-shirt, his Santa pants, boots and suspenders, he gave chase.
A small voice in the back of his head told him this was dumb. She would have to stop eventually. He could catch up with her later, when she was open to the idea of talking to him.
But a louder voice told him he needed to catch her now and tell her what he’d been burning to tell her for years.
That he needed her forgiveness.
He caught up with her and caught her around the waist in front of a small, corner park. They both went down, falling into a snow pile.
She wriggled. He held fast.
“Shh,” he whispered into her ear from behind, unsure of why he was doing so. He just wanted her to stop fighting him. To look at him the way she had before.
After a few moments, she went still. But he didn’t fool himself into thinking it was because she didn’t want to be free.
The snow was cold against his bare arms and was beginning to melt through his T-shirt and pants. Still, he held fast, his restraining hold becoming more of an embrace as he worked her closer to him.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
Jackson closed his eyes and rubbed his nose in her sweet-smelling hair. “I can’t…”
She elbowed him sharply in the ribs, twisted his arm from around her and freed herself. She crawled quickly away on all fours. He caught her right foot and pulled her back down.
She had a couple more escape attempts—and a couple more falls—before they finally sat in the snow facing each other, out of breath…?.
She picked up a snowball and threw it at him, hard. It hit against the side of his face and slid down.
“Okay, I deserved that.”
She threw another one.
“That, too.”
She formed another one.
“The next you get back.”
She hit him squarely in the chest.
“Okay, that does it.”
He dived for her. She squeaked, her laughter like a salve to his battered heart as he grabbed a handful of snow and worked it down the front of her shirt.
She gasped. “No fair!”
“I warned you…”
They wrestled around.
“Get a room,” a passerby grumbled.
He and Max watched him walk away in the other direction, then they burst out laughing.
He squeezed her hard against him. “You ready to call a truce?”
There was a moment’s silence, then, “No.”
“Okay, then marry me, and we can fight this out for the rest of our lives.”
Jackson wasn’t sure where the words had come from. All he knew was that after saying them, he’d never felt better about anything in his life.
She moved to elbow him but this time he was prepared. “No fair,” she whispered so quietly he nearly didn’t hear her.