Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Jackson

When I left Allison’s clinic, I saw Russell disappear behind the building across the street. My body immediately tensed. I threw my shoulders back and marched across the street to confront him. But when I rounded the corner of the old brick building, the alley was empty. He had disappeared into thin air.

Typical.

When I had first moved back to the area, he had practically been a ghost, content to stay in his trailer on the outskirts of town and make his contacts come to him to arrange work. I’d never had to see him unless I sought him out deliberately, needing information—or to reassure myself he couldn’t touch me now. My uniform, badge, and age had formed the kind of protection I hadn’t had as a kid, an invisible shield that even he didn’t dare cross.

But lately, he had been showing his face more and more, and I had the feeling he was up to something. Of course, this was Russell—he was always up to something. And as I stood in the alleyway, watching carefully for movement, wondering when he might reappear from wherever he was hiding, I felt the certainty in my bones. He was messing with me. The only question was why.

It was a conflict of interest for me to investigate him, so technically speaking, I should report my suspicions to the sheriff. But I felt as dumb as rocks telling Greg I was getting freaked out just by seeing Russell in town. That was only going to land me a psych review. Before I went to him, I needed something solid. Something worth presenting.

So I’d keep it to myself for now.

“You might as well show yourself,” I said, feeling silly as I spoke to the empty alley, but I made sure my voice didn’t show it.

Nothing.

I gave it another minute. Then I finally turned and walked away, knowing it would eat at me the rest of the day.

While I waited for Allison to arrive at the restaurant, I told myself my excitement was about catching up with an old friend. After all, that’s how it had to be. Even if my own resolve to stay single had wavered a bit when I’d asked her to have dinner with me, she had made it clear she didn’t want more than friendship. That was perfect. It kept us both exactly where we should be.

There was something special in having a friend who had known me in my old life. Nowadays, pretty much everyone knew me as Jackson Ford, and even the ones who knew my past hadn’t really known me as a kid. They might know my father and sympathize with me because of it, but it was only an interesting piece of my story to them. It wasn’t my identity.

Allison was the strongest link to the good parts of my childhood, and there was something special about getting that link back.

As long as I could remember, my life had been divided into two parts: life before I was adopted and life after. The before part of my life felt so far away that, in some ways, it felt like it had all happened to somebody else. Seeing Allison again reminded me that it hadn’t. That those parts of my life were really mine, too.

Which was good and bad at the same time.

She had brought the good memories back, but between reconnecting with her and the recent sightings of Russell, the dark parts of my past were feeling uncomfortably close. The worst part of it was how quickly Russell could erase the years between us, turning me from a confident member of law enforcement to a scared kid with a broken heart. Part of me wondered if getting close to Allison was a mistake. If maybe I should put as much distance between the past and my future as I could.

But when she walked in—looking slightly hesitant as she glanced around, until she saw me and her face lit up—I realized she had a completely different effect on me than Russell did. Instead of making me feel like a weak little kid without resources, I felt stronger when she was around. More confident. Ready to face anything.

And I wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said breathily as she slid across from me into the booth . “My last patient of the day went long.”

“Complicated case?” I asked, signaling the server for another menu.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes and no. Not really complicated, medically speaking. But I had another patient come in on too many prescriptions. She’s mixing narcotics with benzos and sedatives, and frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t already killed her. I told her I couldn’t continue the prescriptions as written, but that I could help her safely taper down. She didn’t take it well, though she did eventually agree to try something different. I think it helped that her husband was there and he took what I was saying seriously.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry you have to deal with that. A lot of people loved Doc Rogers for the wrong reasons.”

She hesitated, then spoke again. “I’m thinking of starting a medication-assisted treatment program, where I can prescribe safer alternatives and help with the withdrawal process. It’s something I haven’t done personally, but I know there’s been some success with other clinics. There certainly seems to be a need for it here. There’s also some grant money available for the program, which would help the clinic get out of the hole.”

“That’s a great idea,” I said, giving her an encouraging smile. “That would do a lot of good.”

“Right?” she asked, agreeing with me even though it was clear she was still looking for affirmation. “I think it would be a really good thing for the community, to help the ones who are reliant on painkillers by still giving them relief but in a way that doesn’t get them high. Plus, the program would require drug testing in order to get the prescription. So it’s built-in accountability and motivation to stay off everything else.”

I nodded, though I felt the need to damper her excitement. “It’s a good idea and definitely worth a shot. But it could be a hard sell. Rosemary Mountain has grown a lot since you last lived here, but it’s still your typical small town in most ways. And you know the issue with small towns in Tennessee.”

“Yep. But things can change.”

I fought to keep the look of doubt off my face. “I hope you’re right. It always feels like we’re fighting a losing battle there, and sometimes I wonder if it’s a battle even worth fighting.”

Her eyes softened, not with judgment but with empathy. “I imagine it does feel that way working in law enforcement. It’s the same on the medical side. But sometimes you reach people. It’s those times, the ones where you get someone to turn their life around and actually show up to live it, that make all the stress worth it in the end. It’s a gift to them and their families. If you save even one, it’s worth it. Right?”

I looked at her and saw the little girl she had been for just a moment. That same serious look in her eyes, that fragile bravery. I had always thought of her as a princess—the warrior kind who would fight dragons if necessary to protect her people. The woman sitting across from me right now seemed exactly the same.

“You’re right,” I said, knowing she was thinking of her father. Unlike mine, hers had never gotten involved in drugs. That I knew of anyway. But he had his own addictions and she had lived her own kind of nightmare because of it.

She took a little breath and smiled like she had needed my affirmation. It was a funny thing. I knew—because people were talking already—that everyone saw her as this ultra confident know-it-all who had come back to town thinking she was better than everyone else.

I saw the truth.

The server—a teenage girl with stringy hair, a face full of acne, and an attitude suggesting she’d rather be literally anywhere than here—arrived, interrupting my thoughts. She slapped two plastic cups down on the table hard enough to make me wince.

“Soda machine’s over there. Self-serve. If you want beer, I’ll have to get Shelly to bring it to you.”

“I’m good with soda,” Allison said, gently sliding her cup out from the teenager’s hand, which was clamped down on the top of it.

“Same,” I said.

“Great,” the teenager said without a single trace of emotion. “What kind of pizza do you want?”

“She might need a few minutes to look—” I started, but Allison shook her head.

“I looked at the online menu over my lunch break,” she said. “I want to try their Happy Hippie pizza. Want to split a large half and half? If not, I’ll order a small.”

“We can split,” I said, grinning. “But make my half pepperoni.” I handed the menu to the teenager, who turned and walked away without a word.

“Pepperoni,” Allison said. “Apparently some things never change.”

“You can’t top pepperoni, so why try? It’s the perfect pizza.”

“As your new doctor, I might gently suggest you try a slice of mine and get some vegetables into your life,” she said. The twinkle in her eyes let me know she was teasing. Mostly, anyway.

“Don’t worry,” I said, patting my stomach. “I had a healthy lunch of fish and vegetables.”

“Did you really?”

“Yep. Fried catfish, French fries, fried okra, and fried green tomatoes.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, but she was fighting back a smile. “I see I have my work cut out for me.”

“I’m afraid so.”

She opened her eyes, meeting my gaze, and a sense of wonder hit me. How was it that I already felt this comfortable with someone I had only reconnected with yesterday? Talking with people was part of my job, and I was good at it. Good at connecting with ease, getting people to open up and think of me as a friend. It was why I was better at my job than a couple of my coworkers who liked to hold themselves apart and act superior because of the badge.

But this was different. I wasn’t just acting comfortable. I felt a deep sense of comfort, like I had known her my whole life. We had spent most of our lives apart, in completely separate worlds. It didn’t make sense that this kind of connection would come back so easily. But it had. And it felt like I had found something I had searched for my entire life.

“Where’d you go?” she asked, cocking her head. “You look like you’ve drifted off deep into thought.”

“I guess I had,” I admitted. “I was just thinking how nice this is. How easy it feels. How it’s like I’ve known you my whole life.”

“We sort of have,” she chuckled, but a little bit of worry crossed her face. “This is great, Jackson, and I love that we reconnected. But I do just want to be clear that I meant it when I said I only want to be friends. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to get involved.”

I held up my hands. “I get it, Allison. I was being serious when I said that’s what I wanted, too.” I hesitated, then leaned forward and lowered my voice, deciding to open up to her in a way I hadn’t opened up to anyone. “I don’t do relationships. Ever. It’s a rule of mine. And your friendship means too much to me to screw things up with a fling, so. Just friends. For real.” I shrugged.

She gave me an interested look. “Why do you not do relationships?”

I couldn’t stop the rush of negativity that flooded me from thinking about it. “You knew Russell.”

“Yeah,” she said in a questioning tone, like she didn’t understand where I was going.

“And you’re smart enough to know how these things work. He was the way he was because of his dad. His dad was the way he was because of his dad, and so on and so on in a long chain of miserable, broken people. I decided a long time ago that the chain stops with me.”

“But, Jackson,” she said, her eyes narrowing, “you don’t have to stay single to stop the chain. You’ve already broken it. Look at you and the life you’ve chosen. You’re nothing like him.”

I shook my head. “That’s different. But I’m not going to be a husband or father. I wouldn’t be any good at it. My real dad—the one who adopted me—was awesome. He had the patience of a saint. But I don’t.” I shrugged, even though the pain of it all still ate at me. “Russell’s blood runs through my veins.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” she protested.

“As a doctor, you know enough about genetics to know that isn’t true,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

She blushed but didn’t contradict me this time.

“I work harder than anyone knows to be different than him.” I dropped my gaze and took a long drink from my soda, trying to swallow back the hurt that always came when I remembered the things he said. I couldn’t take the risk of putting myself in a situation that might prove him right.

“But—” she started to speak, but I interrupted her.

“Besides,” I said, trying to wave her off and change the subject to a less painful one. “I work long hours in a job that can be dangerous. That’s not fair to a wife and kids, either. When I was a kid, I remember how my mom would sit and wonder when Russell was coming home. If he was coming home. How we’d make it if he didn’t. I’m not going to put anyone through that.”

“Whatever happened to your mom?” she asked quietly.

I looked down at my straw. “She took off. Pretty sure she was the one to make that last report, the one that landed me in foster care for good. But she didn’t hang around to see what happened. Just left. I never saw her again.”

“I’m sorry, Jackson.”

I shrugged, even though it still hurt. “She probably saved my life. Can’t really blame her for protecting hers by disappearing. My folks helped me track her down when I turned eighteen, but she’d died a couple years before that. But enough about the past. The point of all that was to say I don’t do relationships. I’m married to my job, and that’s the only commitment I’m looking for. So you don’t have to worry about me trying to blurry up the lines of our friendship.”

When I looked up, Allison was looking at me with that same empathy. I could tell there were a million things she wanted to say, but she seemed to settle on just one.

“I get it,” she finally said. “I do. It’s a different thing altogether, but I know how hard residency was on my last relationship. When you’re working long hours and the job comes first, it’s really difficult to make something work. And I know how I avoid making a habit of anything that could be addictive, because of my father, even though I’ve never struggled with addiction myself.”

“So we understand each other,” I said. “Neither one of us wants a relationship. But we could both use a friend.”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

“We’ll make a pact.” I grinned, knowing it would bring back memories of the pact we had made as kids on our final night together.

Sadness flooded Allison’s face. “I’m sorry I broke it.”

“You didn’t,” I said, shaking my head firmly. “You’re not the one who made the decision to move away. Besides, the pact held. We’re still friends, right? And now that we’ve found each other again, we’ll keep it.

Allison grinned, her sadness lessening at my words. “You’re right. We’re adults now. Nobody can separate us.”

“Exactly. So we’ll shake on it.” I stretched my arm across the table, waiting with my hand open.

She put her tiny hand in mine and I swore I felt electricity snake up my arm, like something incredible had just happened and the world had somehow changed. But I ignored it, kept my customary grin on my face, and shook.

“Friends,” I said.

“ Best friends,” she corrected.

“Forever,” I said, repeating the words from our youth.

“Forever.”