Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Jackson

I was standing in the shower, trying to wash away what had been an emotionally brutal day, when my phone rang. “Damn,” I muttered, turning the water off and grabbing a towel. My parents normally called on Sunday afternoons to catch up. If my phone rang at night, it could only mean one thing—something was wrong and I was about to clock some overtime. Again.

I stepped out of the shower and grabbed my phone off the bathroom counter, frowning as I looked at it. Allison’s name was on the caller ID. She normally texted. Worry coursed through me as I wondered if something else had happened.

“Hey,” I answered, holding the phone between my shoulder and ear as I dropped the towel and grabbed my clothes.

“There’s somebody in my house.” Her voice was strained and full of fear.

“What?” I almost dropped the phone as I yanked up my jeans.

“There’s someone in my house,” she repeated. “I came home and was about to eat when I heard footsteps upstairs.”

“Get out, now,” I directed her. I reached for my wallet and gun, shoving the wallet in my pocket and the pistol into the waistband of my jeans.

“I’m out,” she said. “I’m in my car. What should I do?”

“Have you called nine-one-one?”

“No. I called you.” Her voice sounded so afraid, so helpless. A shot of warmth flooded my heart that she would call me first, that I would be the one she turned to without even thinking.

“We’re going to hang up. I’m on my way, okay? But you need to call nine-one-one. Someone might be on patrol closer and can get there faster than me. Keep your car doors locked.”

“Okay,” she said. I could almost picture her nodding, trying to be brave.

“I’m on my way,” I repeated. “Hang up now.”

The call went dead and I grabbed a shirt, not even bothering to button it before I was out the door and in my truck.

Miller was on scene when I arrived—not my first choice, but not the worst, either. He was intimidating and more than capable of handling himself.

He was also an ass who didn’t like me very much, as I had gotten the job and title of detective he believed he deserved.

“Ford,” he said, barely lifting his head in acknowledgment before raising his eyebrows. “Couldn’t even bother to button your shirt?”

I glanced down, having completely forgotten. “Sorry,” I muttered. “Where’s Allison?”

“Inside. Giving a statement to Sanchez.”

“Did you catch the guy?”

He shook his head and turned, spitting in disgust. “Nope. Back door was wide open though, and there are boot prints in the dirt back there. Looks like the guy spooked when she ran out and took off into the woods.”

“Then why aren’t you out there searching?” I demanded.

He raised his eyebrows again. “You know as well as I do that if someone wants to get lost, there’s a hell of a lot of wilderness to do it. No way Sanchez and I are going to track someone down out there when he had a ten-minute head start.”

Emerson could, I thought, but I kept it to myself. No need to give Miller even more of a reason to hate me. He already resented the fact that the sheriff and I regularly called on Emerson’s tracking skills instead of Miller’s, even though Miller considered himself one of the best trackers in the area.

“I’m going to go take a look out back,” I said.

Miller stopped me, putting a hand on my chest. “Nope. The sheriff already told us you have a conflict of interest in this one.” He gave me a sly smile, obviously loving the fact that he was in charge for once. “It’s my investigation, and you’re not going anywhere near it.”

“It’s his investigation,” I retorted, unable to stop myself.

“Well, he’s not here, is he? So I’m in charge.”

I ground my teeth, refusing to take the bait. He’d be gone soon and I’d look around then. “Fine,” I said. “I’m going to check on Allison.”

“You’ll wait until she’s finished giving her statement.” He was enjoying every minute of putting me in my place.

I crossed my arms and leaned back against my truck, fuming.

“Aren’t you going to button your shirt?”

“Why? Is it bothering you? Turning you on, Miller?”

He sputtered. “You know I don’t go for that.”

“It’s a joke, you moron.” I rolled my eyes and fumed some more, waiting for Allison to finally come out.

It was all I could do not to rush over and grab Allison into my arms when she finally walked out of the house with Sanchez.

“Hey, Jackson,” Sanchez said. “What are you doing out here?”

“I called him,” Allison answered, locking eyes with me like I was the lifeline she had been looking for.

I cursed the fact that she had been alone when this had happened, that she had needed me but I hadn’t been here. It was confirmation of what I had known all along. Allison deserved someone with normal work hours and a stable life. Even if it damn well broke my heart to think about losing my place in her life.

“Are you okay?” I asked, moving to her side.

“Yeah.” It was clear from her face that she wasn’t.

“Well, we’re all wrapped up here,” Miller announced. “Make sure your doors are locked, Dr. Bell, and call us if anything else happens.”

She nodded, her mouth set in a firm line, as she wrapped her arms around herself like she needed the comfort.

And oh how I wanted to be the one comforting her.

We waited for Miller and Sanchez to pull out before going inside.

“How are you really?” I asked, following her through the door. I made sure it was locked behind us, even though there was barely a point. Whoever this was wasn’t likely to come in with me here, and if he wanted to, he’d already proven locks wouldn’t stop him. Still, the gesture made me feel better.

She shrugged, then sank into the couch, tears clouding her eyes. “I don’t know. When it was just once, and the person was gone, and you were here…that was different. This was terrifying.”

“I bet it was.” I sat down on the other end of the couch, giving her space to talk.

“I’m tired, Jackson,” she said, covering her face with her hands. When she let them fall to her lap, I saw exhaustion I’d never seen there before. “Tired of my patients hating me. Tired of putting up with Beverly. Tired of whoever this is making it to where I don’t even feel safe in my home.” She looked away, avoiding my eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe Mama’s right. Maybe I should just go back to Memphis.”

“Is that what you want?” I asked carefully.

“I don’t know what I want right now.” Her voice was broken. Like everything had piled up and piled up and it was finally too much.

I sat silent, not trusting myself to say anything. I knew I couldn’t be what she needed—what she deserved—but the thought of her moving away again? It killed me. It was the last thing I wanted.

“Jackson?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay? Greg said you had a tough case today.”

My heart stopped in my chest. After everything that had happened, she was worried about me? It was a strange feeling. I was used to being the one checking on everyone else. “I don’t know,” I said, giving her the most honest answer I could. “It’s hard to explain.”

“That’s okay. You can tell me anyway.”

I turned toward her. “When you work this kind of job, you learn to compartmentalize, you know? But when it’s a kid being abused… Well, it gets hard for me to do that.”

“I imagine.” She reached over and squeezed my hand.

“All I can do is show up as the person I wish I would have had back then,” I said, swallowing over a painful lump in my throat. “Even if what I really want to do is tear the suspect to pieces.”

“I wish someone would have shown up for you,” she said softly.

I nodded, trying to squash down the old hurts. “You know people called, made reports. But everything was always dismissed because the investigators were too busy, too pulled in a million directions. Mom would cover for him, and Russell would talk his way out of it. Couldn’t lose his errand boy—or his punching bag.”

“What changed?” she asked, tilting her head. “Was it because it was your mother who reported him?”

The memories of it all brought a swell of emotion I tried to avoid. “Nah. Timing wise, I’m pretty sure it was her, but the report was anonymous. The difference this time was a sheriff’s deputy who made it her mission to make sure Russell could never get his hands on me again. She left no stone unturned in her investigation. Pressed criminal charges against him. And even though he managed to weasel out of those, she showed up at every one of my court dates. I’d have gone straight back into his hands if not for her.”

“Is that why you became a detective?” She looked at me like she was beginning to understand.

I nodded, slowly. “Yeah. One reason, anyway. I want to be that person for other people. The one who doesn’t give up.”

She reached out and placed her hand on my arm. “You’re a good one. Rosemary Mountain is lucky to have you. That kid is lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you.”

I looked at her and knew we had to have a conversation I’d been hoping to avoid—a conversation that would slice my chest open and rip my heart out. But it had to happen. Because I couldn’t deny my feelings or ignore how close we were getting. And if we kept getting closer, I was going to cross a line and lose her altogether.

“Allison,” I said, looking down at my shoes. “I’ve told you how I feel about relationships.”

“You have.” Her voice was small.

“But I’m attracted to you,” I said, confessing it like it was a mortal sin. “No, it’s more than that. More than just attraction. I have feelings for you. Strong feelings. But today just showed me why I have the rules I have. You needed me—you called me instead of nine-one-one.”

“And you answered,” she said, a look of sadness crossing her face like she knew what was coming.

“I did,” I confirmed, “but what if I hadn’t? What if I had stayed at work even an hour later? It happens, you know. Sometimes I’m there all night. I work long, crazy hours. I can’t be the person you depend on, no matter how much I want to be. You deserve more than that.”

She leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling as she took a deep breath. “I have one request.”

“What?”

“Stop worrying about what you think I need.”

“But—”

Allison interrupted me. “I mean it, Jackson. It seems like all you do is worry about what everyone else needs from you. But I’m a big girl. Was I disappointed to not have dinner with you tonight? Yeah, I was, because I enjoy spending time with you. But I understand how important your job is. I’m a doctor . You think I’m available all the time? I know what it’s like to be on call, to pull double shifts, all of it. And tonight, if you hadn’t answered? I would have called nine-one-one. So you can stop worrying about me.”

I stared at her. “I don’t know how to stop worrying about you.”

She gave me a little half smile. “So you can worry about me a little. But…”

“But what?”

This time she was the one to look like she had something life-changing to tell me. “Jackson, I have feelings for you, too. But is that really so bad? What if… What if we gave this a shot? A real shot. I think… I think we would be good together.”

My heart nearly stopped. Allison Bell was offering me everything I had ever wanted. It was almost too much, like someone had presented me with a chest of jewels. For a split second, I wondered if it was possible. I saw a vision of a future together, and it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

But it was immediately clouded out by Russell’s face. My blood runs through your veins, boy, and don’t you forget it. Don’t matter what you do, or who you try to be. You’re a Sharp. Blood don’t lie.

I knew I couldn’t. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Allison.” More sorry than I could possibly say. “You’re the only real friend I have who knew me back then. The only one who knows the whole me, past and present. Your friendship means everything to me. I won’t risk it for anything.” My voice got thick. “And I could never give you everything you want. Everything you deserve. Not with my job, or…or with Russell’s blood running through me.”

She looked at me with sadness. “Jackson, when are you going to stop selling yourself short?”

“You’re the one selling yourself short if you think you want to be with me.”

She shook her head, clearly angry at my words. “So that’s it, then? We have feelings for each other, we’re obviously compatible, we’re best friends, but you’re saying there’s no chance of us making it work?”

“No chance,” I said, keeping my voice firm, even though every part of me wanted to hope it was possible.

“Okay,” she said in a voice that somehow seemed even more defeated than earlier. She slapped her hands down on her knees and leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m really tired. I know it’s early, but I feel like I’m crashing. I need to go to bed.”

I nodded. “I’ll stay here again tonight.”

“You don’t have to.” It broke my heart because I knew how scared she was—and how much I had hurt her if she was willing to stay here alone despite her fear.

“I do. He might come back again. So either I’m staying here or you’re coming to my apartment, but I have to warn you. My place isn’t nearly as nice as yours.”

She smirked. “Yours doesn’t have someone breaking into it every night though.”

“That’s true. Would you rather come home with me?”

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing around the room. “Even with you here, I’m not sure I’m going to feel safe until they catch this guy. And I don’t want you getting hurt, either.”

“Then pack a bag. I’ll wait.”