12. Freya

Iclasp my hands beneath the table and smile awkwardly at Jackson. He isn't looking at me, though. He's looking at his mother, who's on the phone talking animatedly to his brother. This was clearly not on his agenda for today, and I almost feel bad for him about it. Almost. He clearly had a plan.

But his mom seems cool, though. Obviously, it's impossible to really know what's going on with anyone's family behind the scenes, but from the outside, I can't understand why Jackson doesn't want to spend more time with her. She has been nothing but wonderful to me.

Then again, she did basically forbid Jackson from leaving, because when he tried to get us out of it, she told us that he wasn't allowed to leave under any circumstances and that she was going to call his brother over to join them.

Jackson did not look delighted about this. And I guess I can understand why. Family is complicated.

"I'm going to have to call the restaurant," he mutters, partly to me but mostly to himself. "Do you know how hard it is to get reservations at that place?"

"It's okay, Jackson, really. You don't need to take me to lunch at all."

"But I wanted to!" he snaps.

Despite how harsh he seems, I can't help but smile at that. I haven't known him for very long, but it seems absolutely typical of him to dress up his kindness in a grumpy face. At this point, I'd expect nothing else from him. I'm learning that it's his way of caring — to do things for people. He might not be good at saying what he's feeling, but the more I get to know him, the more I can see the ways that he lets it show that he cares.

"All right," says his mother, finally hanging up the phone. "John's going to be here in fifteen minutes with Sophia and the kids." Jackson scowls more darkly than I've ever seen before.

Then his mom turns to me. "I'm Tegan, by the way. I won't stand for any of that ‘Mrs. Kerr' business. Tell me, have you got any preference for food, or allergies? Dislikes, likes, favorites? Things so awful you've sworn never to look at again?"

It's like she's staring into my very soul. I look away, knotting my fingers together. "Um… I don't really eat shellfish. And I think I might be allergic to cat hair, but that's about it. I'm quite easygoing."

"I'm glad to hear it. I'm going to make my baby boy's favorite lunch ever, all the way back from when he was a kid."

"Ugh, do you have to?" huffs Jackson, folding his arms.

"Yes, I do. I'll be damned if you don't still love my pesto gnocchi." As an aside to me, she adds, "That was his favorite growing up. He's always had expensive tastes."

Jackson grumbles at that. "I'm not like John. I can't eat a peanut-butter-jelly sandwich every day for the rest of my life.

"Jackson," Tegan scolds gently, "you two shouldn't fight."

"Mom, I'm not three. You don't need to tell me. And anyway, he's not even here!"

Tegan doesn't say anything to that, but the look on her face is clearly expressing the sentiment if you're so big, why don't you act like you're an adult, then?

"All right, kids, I've got a lunch to whip up. Make yourselves at home. Jackson knows where everything is." She reaches out to squeeze Jackson's arm again, then bustles off to the kitchen.

Throwing his face into his hands, Jackson groans, "I'm so sorry about this. I swear it was just supposed to be flowers. I should have known she'd do this."

"Don't worry about it," I say. "It's nice to get a bit of mom attention."

He freezes suddenly, clearly remembering the fact that my mom isn't around. I shake my head at him fondly. I didn't say it for pity. I said it because it's true. "Come on, let's sit down. Fighting will just make it harder."

Even though he doesn't seem happy about the idea, Jackson slumps down onto the couch and flicks on the TV. We barely get to decide what to watch before the doorbell rings, though. "Answer that, please," yells Tegan, and with the world's biggest sigh, Jackson gets up, leaving me all alone in the big living room.

I look around, taking in the tasteful décor and neatly framed photos. All the pictures are of her kids, mostly Jackson doing sports and family portraits of what I guess must be John and his wife and kids.

I'm so curious to see what kind of person Jackson's brother is. From the sounds of it, they're the kind of siblings who spend all their time fighting, and that's caused a rift that time isn't fixing. They're not at all like Matt and I, who are so close that it would take an event on a scale that I don't even want to contemplate to break us up.

I get to my feet as John and his wife enter the room, followed by Jackson and two small children. "Hello," I say, putting on my very best rehearsed smile, realizing just how much I'm encroaching on their family time.

John looks between me and Jackson and raises both eyebrows hard. "Jackson's girlfriend?" he asks.

I shake my head, and quickly, before Jackson can follow through on the black scowl that he's wearing, say, "No, I'm a nurse. I've been looking after your brother; he's had an injury."

"A nurse? All right, Jackie — nice going!"

Clearly Jackson hates the nickname as much as I hate the idea of everyone thinking we're together, because every time someone says it, he grinds his teeth together and clenches his fists like he's holding himself back. "I've had an elbow injury," he says tersely. If he doesn't calm down, I'm going to worry about him bursting something.

"I'm sorry to hear that," says John's wife, stepping forward to try and smooth over everyone's ruffled feathers. This clearly isn't the first time she's done this. I feel bad for her, being in the middle of this. She smiles at me and says, "I'm Sophia. It's lovely to meet you," then she comes over and hugs me. I pat her on the back gently, not quite sure how I'm supposed to respond.

"We weren't meant to be staying long," mutters Jackson.

"Hello, you two," says Tegan, entering with a huge, steaming bowl of food that she puts down on the table. The second it's down, she rushes over to hug her second son, and then adds, "And hello to my favorite grandchildren." She crouches down to their level, and they both tackle her down in a hug. "Have you said hello to Uncle Jackie's new friend?"

They both shake their heads shyly. I crouch down too, grinning at them. "My name is Freya," I say with a wave. I get two blank stares in reply.

"This is Carrie and Paul, four and three," explains Sophia.

I nod understandingly. "I was on pediatrics for a little while," I say. "But I mostly just stick to general these days. The kids were really cute, but the parents were a nightmare."

Sophia laughs knowingly. "Tell me about it. I'm a teacher."

I shiver at the idea. "Oh, God. You're braver than me."

"Don't be silly," she laughs. "You're a nurse. You're braver than I could ever be. I just have to deal with kids — you have to deal with everyone."

"That's true enough." I laugh too, glad to be bonding with someone here. As I do, I'm acutely aware of Jackson staring at me. Does he feel like I'm an imposter just as much as I do?

"All right, sit yourselves down and I'll bring the rest of the food through."

"Mom, let me help," says John.

"No, honey, you sit down," Tegan says, shaking her head, but John follows her through to the kitchen anyway while the rest of us all sit down. Sophia gets the kids settled, and Jackson and I share another long look over the table.

I can't really think of anything else to say, so I just bite my lip and stare down at the embroidered edges of the tablecloth. I feel like I've passed a test, which is good, but I don't particularly want any more attention to be drawn to me.

This is family time, after all. It should be precious, even if it's weird.

Tegan and John return with salad and pasta, and sandwiches that she places in front of the kids. Their eyes light up in delight and they immediately reach for them, batting each other out of the way to try and get the most triangular one. They kind of remind me of the way I imagine Matt and I would have been if we'd only had a year between us. If we'd had a whole childhood to grow up together through.

But we never needed it. We're already symbiotic enough, and I have a feeling that if we'd had the chance to act like this when we were young, we'd be more psychic than we already are. I try and push these thoughts away. There's no point in wishing for something you don't have. Matt and I have each other now, and that's what counts.

Jackson grumpily starts piling gnocchi onto his plate, which earns him a knowing look from his mother as he starts eating. He ignores it.

"So, you're injured?" asks John in a way that's equally curious and confrontational.

Jackson purses his lips. "Yes."

"But you'll be back in time for the playoffs?"

"Yes!" Jackson snaps. "That's why I'm resting now."

"It's good of them to give you a personal nurse," says Sophia, glancing at me. She's sitting next to me, and I can feel the questions brewing. Jackson just shrugs, and I avoid everyone's eye, not quite willing to admit that my looking after Jackson wasn't exactly on the orders of the hospital.

"It's good service," says Jackson, and I pretend not to notice the way he looks at me.

I'm pretty sure Tegan notices, though, because she says, "Jackie's finally found another friend."

"Yes. Thank you," he huffs, a faint pinkness creeping onto his cheeks. I don't think I've ever seen him embarrassed before, and it's kind of a cute look on him.

Gently, I kick him under the table to catch his attention. John and Tegan have moved on to talk about his job, some high-flying business thing from what I'm overhearing of it. But I don't really care about that. I'm here for Jackson.

He looks over at me, and I smile, hoping that seeming brighter than I feel will infuse him with a little more happiness too. It might just be my imagination, but though he doesn't stop scowling, his frown seems to lighten a little.

And then he rolls his eyes at his brother, and I bite my lip, amused. This is a side I've never seen before, and I think I like it.