14. Freya

CHAPTER 14

FREYA

F inally, Jackson gets bored of lunch and decides that we have to get on the move.

"All right, I've got to get Freya home," he says, looking at me as if to ask if that's okay. I nod slightly, and he gestures for me to get to my feet. As I do, and carefully slide my chair under the table, a rush of relief washes through me.

It's not that this hasn't been fun; it's just… well, spending time with someone else's family is always a lot, isn't it?

Tegan launches to her feet too, grinning wildly at us. Stretching out both hands, she rushes in to give Jackson a huge hug and plant another kiss on his cheek. "My baby. It was so good to see you. Please don't leave it too long till next time."

"Yes." He nods awkwardly, accepting his mother's embrace but not looking at all happy about it.

Sophia comes up to me while the boys are busy with their grandmother, and says, "It was great to meet you."

"You too," I smile.

It's been nice to have someone else to talk to over this lunch who isn't strictly one of them. I know I'm more of an outsider than she is, but it would have been worse had it just been Jackson, his brother, their mother, and me. Plus, she's a really interesting woman — she helped Tegan interior-design this place, and she's worked for some properly impressive clients with her business.

She does all that work on top of being a mom. I know exactly how tired she must be.

At last, Jackson breaks away from his family and starts making towards the exit. I hurry after him, and Tegan trails behind to walk us out.

I suddenly feel like a huge, awkward cloud has settled over us, because for some reason I can't explain, I have an urge to reach out and hold Jackson's hand. It's stupid and definitely not what I should do, especially with Tegan watching so close. And since we haven't come here as a couple, and we're not going home as one either, I push all thoughts of it out of my mind.

There is no us . I am just his nurse, his occasional chauffeur, his friend and sometimes confidant, and that's all. But in this moment, fleetingly, it feels like I could be just a little more than that.

At the door, Tegan pulls me into a hug. "Thank you for looking after my baby. He needs all the help he can get." Jackson scoffs with a frown, and she grins at me. "I hope you know he's not this grumpy really. It's all an act."

Jackson's frown just deepens, and I smile. "I think I'm starting to get him figured out."

"Well, you're welcome anytime," Tegan says, squeezing me hard. "I've always wished Jackson would have more friends, and he'd be foolish to let a girl like you slip through his fingers."

"Mom!" Jackson hisses, a pinkness dusting his cheekbones again. "I told you already, it's not like that."

Tegan hums disbelievingly, letting me go. "You look pretty good together to me. There's an energy here, don't you doubt it."

Jackson groans again, and his mother just winks at him. I'd feel embarrassed too if I wasn't so completely enjoying watching him getting teased. And anyway, I can totally understand where Tegan's coming from.

We might be pretending to ourselves, but there are only so many lies we can tell when the truth is staring us in the face.

Jackson shuffles us out to the car before Tegan can say anything else. We drive in silence for a while, and I stare out of the window, watching the scenery go past, thinking about everything that's happened, thinking about Jackson and what Tegan said.

Is it really so stupid to think that there could be something more between Jackson and me?

Even though we have been getting closer and it's felt so easy to be friends with him, I feel like he doesn't seem to be interested at all. I mean, I didn't think I was either, at first. Not really. Sometimes with patients, you hit it off more than you expect, but that doesn't have to mean anything.

In all honesty, it's probably kind of unethical to be developing anything close to feelings for him. And yet, he hasn't really been my patient since the very first day we met. Everything after that has been an act of kindness, of my own free will. It's been because I've wanted to see him again, wanted to spend some time with him even though he's irritating and cold and grouchy.

Despite all that, I've stayed, because when he tries, he can be funny and kind. When he lets go of the persona that he's built for himself, he can be so much more than the person he pretends to be.

I want to see that side of him more. The vulnerable, true Jackson who cares with a frown. And I guess Tegan saw the same thing in us too.

"I'm sorry," he says at last, shattering my silent meditations in a way that catches me off guard. "I really wanted to make today special for you."

"It has been," I say. "It was certainly a surprise."

He chuckles at that. "I should have known going to my mom's would last ages. I don't know why I expected that we could just run in and out again. She always has to make things difficult."

"That's mothers for you," I say quietly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says quickly, running a flustered hand through his hair. "I forgot. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Don't worry about it. Really, it's okay. My mom was a beautiful person. I'm not afraid to remember that. It hurts that she's gone. But that just makes spending time with people like your mother more precious."

He lets out a quiet, contemplative hum, like he's seeing things from an angle he hasn't considered before. As usual, he fascinates me. How can a person who cares so much be so blind to the ways other people think?

Feeling bold, I keep going. "If you find your mom irritating or wonderful or both, I don't really care. It doesn't change how I feel about my mom. But I have a feeling spending more time with Tegan could change how you feel about her."

Jackson stares firmly out of the front window, his eyebrows knotted as if in deep concentration. Again, I'm getting that kind of urge to hold his hand to comfort or support him, I'm not sure which. And honestly, maybe it's a little bit for myself too.

"I'll take you to dinner another time," he says, changing the subject.

"For the record," I say, taking a breath, still lagging behind, "I would like to go to dinner sometime too. Just because it didn't happen today doesn't mean it can't happen ever."

"Really? You'd want to? I wasn't sure how you were going to take the idea, to be honest."

"Sure, really. It's good to hang out with you. I enjoy it."

He takes a deep breath as if to steel himself for what he's about to say, and my treacherous heart skips a beat. "You know, despite what my mother thinks, I am glad you became my friend."

"Me too," is all I can say.

We hardly say anything until we get back, as if everything that could possibly need to be said has already been said.

It seems to take hours to get there, but finally he pulls into his garage and turns off the engine as the doors slide shut behind us. The atmosphere in here is heavy, thick with the feelings that we're clearly both feeling but are not quite brave enough to acknowledge.

How can this man have changed my life in such a short amount of time? How can he have gone from hating me to having this kind of spark, this kind of magnetism? How has he started to mean so much to me?

We get out of the car slowly, and Jackson goes to open the door to the house for me. As I pass him, I brush close to him, and I swear I can feel his heart pounding, beating so loudly that it makes me pause, turning to him, my mouth slightly open, my breath catching. For a second I think this is it; we're going to kiss. We're so close to it that nothing else can happen. It's written in his shallow breaths and half-lidded eyes.

His hand comes up to my shoulder, caressing me gently with his thumb, and then he leans closer, his face a hair's breadth away from mine, so close that I can almost feel it before it happens. My heart leaps, dancing around my stomach as they both cry out that this is right; this is exactly what I want.

And then he says, "Shit!" and reels away — and just like that, the moment is over.

"What?" I ask, panicking and taking a step back.

"I hit my stupid elbow on the door," he mutters, glaring down at it as he cradles his arm to his chest.

Not sure what else to do, I step into the house. As he follows, I say, "I can take a look at it if you want." I'm not too concerned about it being damaged because it was probably the shock more than anything that hurt him.

He shakes his head, then gives me the widest smile I've ever seen on him. "No, you're okay. It's already stopped hurting. I think I just caught it at a weird angle."

"I'm glad you're not hurt," I say mildly, trying to mask my fluttering heart and crushed feelings.

"Me too."

We don't say anything else, and I decide just to make a speedy exit. He waves me goodbye as I leave, and even as I get into my car and start driving away, I can still see him stood there by the door, watching.

The second I'm out of view, I burst into tears and feel stupid for it. Today has been one hell of a roller coaster, and I don't know how else I'm meant to process it. I'll stop before I get back — I don't need Matt to ask any questions I can't answer about this nothing that's happening.

But I can't help but wonder if I should have tried again, if I should have been braver and leaned in for the kiss that we were so close to having.

If I should've tried harder for this thing that I was so close to wanting.