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JACKSON

Last New Year’s Eve, I was in New York with a bunch of people I only see at parties, and we stayed up until dawn drinking champagne and vodka.

This year, I welcomed the New Year curled up with Rosie as we drank a glass of sparkling apple juice and watched the fireworks on the TV, before falling asleep before one am.

It’s crazy how quickly life can change, how quickly priorities change.

Before I leave for my first day back on set, I creep back into the bedroom fully dressed and sit on the side of the bed gently.

Rosie stirs, a small tired noise escaping as she turns towards me.

I lean down and press a kiss to her warm cheek, wishing I could climb back in with her.

“What time is it?” she asks groggily, peeling her eyes open.

I rest my hand on her belly, where my t-shirt she’s taken to wearing to bed has risen up in her sleep. I press a gentle kiss to the swell where my daughter is sleeping .

The last thing I want to do is leave my girls for two weeks, to not be able to fall asleep every night cradling the things that are most precious to me. I should be here with her, not stepping out into the cool winter night and driving away for weeks.

But no, I’ve made a commitment to the job. I have to see it through. One last push before it’s wrapped.

“It’s early,” I whisper. “Go back to sleep.” I brush a strand of hair that’s fallen over her face back behind her ear.

“Be careful,” Rosie says, clasping my hand and pressing a kiss to the palm.

“Always,” I promise before leaning towards her and catching her soft lips in mine.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, pretty girl. I’ll be back in two weeks.”

A few months ago, I’d only see her a few times a week and before that, a few times a year if I was lucky. But as I leave our home, I don’t know how I’m going to cope not seeing her for fourteen days.

The drive to set is a couple hours, so I spend the time reading the script and getting prepared for the stunts. It’s the biggest one of the movie, which is why it’s expected to take two weeks to film.

It’s a long fight sequence, including one-on-one combat, diving off buildings and driving a motorcycle across two rooftops.

We’ve been going over the plan meticulously for months, but I’ve been riding since I could get my license, so I’ve never had any concerns. I should be ready. I should be excited.

I don’t know whether it’s the remnants of the festive break or leaving my woman curled up in bed, but there’s a tightening in my stomach that feels suspiciously like nerves .

I don’t get stage fright and I haven’t hurt myself on this job since I jarred my side all those months ago, and even that was just bad luck. Mistakes haven’t been made, everything’s gone smoothly, so why do I feel like the other shoe is about to drop?

It’s when I get out of the car that it does.

It’s still dark, the sky just lightening on the horizon, bathing everything in a cool blue haze as a handful of crew members cross the silent lot. It’s almost preternatural, the air chilled and silent, only punctured by my car door slamming behind me.

I can smell the catering truck, but the few crew members standing in front are silent, shuffling from foot to foot. Early mornings aren’t anyone’s favorites, but by the time I step onto set there’s usually enough adrenaline threading through the crew that energy levels are high.

My chest tightens. Something’s wrong.

Eric holds the door open to my trailer but I bypass him, my feet taking me to the men crowded around the production truck in a semicircle.

I recognize Marky by his shock of white hair, his shoulders hunched as he rests his face in his hands.

“Marky,” I say as I approach. He whirls towards me and pulls his hand away from his face.

“Jackie,” he says, swallowing and crossing his hands across his chest.

I rest one hand on my hip before rubbing my beard with the other. “What’s going on?” I ask slowly.

Marky takes a deep breath. “It’s Tony.”

My heart freezes in my chest. “What about him?” I bite out.

I barely register the words coming out of Mark’s mouth, — “stunt”, “gone wrong”, “coma” — but the one that my mind hangs onto freezes the breath in my lungs.

“ Paralyzed .”

Knees shaking, I barely make it to my trailer before collapsing on the tiny sofa. My palms sweat as I try to take a deep breath, but it gets caught in my throat. I lean forward, dangling my head between my knees and trying to remember the advice my therapist used to give me.

I take a deep breath through shaking lips, trying to count to five before exhaling and repeating the motion.

I haven’t had an attack like this for nearly twenty years, but I would have one almost weekly in the months after Dad died.

If I tripped over my own feet my heart would pound in my chest and panic would grip my throat like a vice.

How could a man who was so strong, so healthy, so adventurous, slip in the street and die within seconds?

It was only after I started stunt work that I learned how to take risks safely, how to protect myself in a guided fall, how to land from a jump without breaking my knees, that the attacks eased.

Over time, my confidence returned, my stunts got riskier, until eventually I was leading projects where I was pushing my body to extremes.

My mouth feels dry, and I press my freezing hands to my face.

Paralyzed.

I ran off before Marky could give me any more information. What hospital is he in? Is Kaia on her way? All Kaia wanted was for him to stop putting himself at risk and now this. Does Masen know? God, Masen.

My phone ringing jolts me out of my spiral, and my knees shake as I read Rosie’s name on the screen.

“Rosie?” I croak .

“Hey, I wasn’t sure if you were on set already so I thought I’d try you. Can you talk for a second?”

“Yes. Please.”

“The L&P that your sister sent has arrived! Thank God, because I’ve already finished the box and I was almost ready to somehow try to make it myself.”

Her happy voice soothes me like a balm and I close my eyes as she regales me with the story of how she and my sister bonded over a fizzy drink.

“Jackson?” she asks and I let my eyes open.

“Sorry, I’m here.”

“Are you okay?” Rosie asks quietly.

“Uhm…” I rub my hand across my face. “Yeah, nah. It’s Tony.

He’s had an accident.” The whole story rushes out, my heart hammering as I spill the limited facts that I know.

He was working on a different project, a TV drama that has two stunts in the whole series.

The likelihood of him injuring himself was never zero, but they were slim and it still happened.

“That’s awful.” Rosie’s horrified voice echoes my own thoughts. “Jackson, listen to me. He’s still fighting, yeah? I’m sure he’ll be okay. Is his wife with him?”

“I don’t know. I think she’s still over in Wellington with Masen.” My voice cracks and I squeeze my eyes shut. “I haven’t spoken to her.”

“Send me her number and I can make sure she’s on her way, what hospi–”

“I love you,” I interrupt her as she makes plans to look after a family that she’s never met.

“I love you too, baby.”

I sit in silence for a second, just listening to her breathing over the phone, until a knock on the door interrupts my thoughts .

“Just a minute,” I shout hoarsely. I rub my hand over my eyes before turning back to the phone. “I’m doing the motorcycle stunt today.”

“ Oh ,” Rosie says quietly. “Are you sure you want to do it?”

I don’t answer. I don’t know how to.

“Listen, Jackson,” she tells me. “You’ve done hundreds of these stunts, and you’ve got a good team, right? That’s what you told me. I trust you, so if you want to do this stunt, then I trust your instincts too.”

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah.”

“Do whatever you need to do, okay? Just come home to me when you’re finished.”

Another knock sounds, and Eric pokes his head in the door.

“They’re ready for you,” he says with a smile. He doesn’t know Tony, doesn’t know Marky enough to even have heard the story.

There’s this enormous news that’s kicked my world off its axis, but the rest of the crew is just going through business as usual.

“I’ve got to go, pretty girl.” I tell Rosie as I force my leaden feet to move.

“Okay, text me when you can.”

“I will.”

The last time I saw Tony, he was determined to keep doing the job he loves.

Taking risks is what he’s done every day of his life.

He was confident, good at his job, probably even better than me, and he still got hurt.

I do the safe, practiced maneuvers that the stunt guys like Tony have already workshopped to perfection.

The risks I take are assessed and prepared.

If something happens to me, the shoot would need to shut down while I recover or get recast. I know this, I’ve always known this.

A waiver is written into all of my contracts so I’m aware of the danger I’m putting myself through by agreeing to do my own stunts.

Paralyzed.

Tony woke up yesterday morning as usual, drank his morning coffee and probably texted his son, and now he’s in a coma.

I cross my arms across my body, my feet sinking into the tarmac as if to keep me in one spot, while I attempt to listen to Sam and Shaun.

What would I do if the stunt went wrong?

If I jump at the wrong second, or a harness snaps in a freak accident.

I’ve always trusted myself, trusted my gut, known that I wouldn’t jeopardize the film by taking on something I can’t accomplish, but never backing down.

Always jumping straight into the action with a grin at the thought of playing with danger.

I think of Rosie’s sleepy smile as she wished me luck hours ago, and the sight of her swollen belly where my daughter is growing.

I imagine her climbing out of bed and answering the call that something’s happened, something’s gone wrong, and that our lives have been changed in immeasurable ways.

I see Smudge growing up without a father, having panic attacks every time she trips over her own feet, just in case her life changes just like her dad’s did. Just like my dad’s did.

I rub my beard, trying to ignore the shaking in my hand, my ribs twitching in my side in a way they haven’t in months.

Can I really do this every day? Step out of the door and put my life and my family’s life at risk, just so I can say that I did a cool stunt on a film that probably will be forgotten about in a few years anyway?

Can I risk not coming home to my girls ?

“No,” I say out loud, my voice firm even to my ears.

Sam and Shaun glance at me with wide eyes as the plans for today’s fight scene trail off awkwardly.

“I’m not doing this stunt,” I say, catching eyes with Marky. He nods with a frown, his face still pale from the news.

“Jackson, we have to do the stunt today, man,” Shaun says, glancing at Sam nervously. “It’s in the schedule.”

I tug on my beard as my fist tightens on my bicep.

“I appreciate that, but I can’t do this stunt today. Or any day.” The decision is final and settles in my gut like a stone.

Marky clasps me on the shoulder as I take a step away from the group, my phone already in my hand.

I scroll until I reach Kaia’s number, unused for years. I close the door to my trailer as I listen to her sobs from down the line and get her and Masen on the next flight over here.

My mind is on autopilot as I arrange the transfer for Tony to the finest neuro hospital in the city, roping in Eric to help me get Kaia and Masen a rental near the hospital when they get here.

It’s a mess, but at least I can do something.

Travis calls with an update about the double that’s being brought in to replace my stunts, but it’s barely a concern to me now. This is what I want.