Page 29 of Just One Look

Maverick

“How did your appointment with the sleep specialist go?”

Ollie’s voice fills the cabin of my SUV.

“Not great. Feel free to start calling me Darth Vader from now on.”

“Are they putting you on CPAP?”

“I still have to do an at-home sleep apnea test, but I played him the recording I took of me sleeping, and he said it’s highly likely I will, yeah.”

“Bummer, man.”

“Looks like the only hooking up I’ll be doing from now on is to a machine.”

“I’m sure Jackson won’t mind.”

“Jackson won’t ever see it.”

“You still giving him the cold shoulder?”

“Sure am,”

I say, turning the key in the ignition to get the heating going.

“He hurt me, Ollie. He looked me right in the eye, and he chose not to tell me whatever was going on with him. At least Derek owned up to his mistake. How are things going on that front, by the way?”

“Let’s just say you’re not the only one giving someone the cold shoulder. I told him I needed some space. He’s respecting that and has stopped calling and texting, but every night, when I get home from work, my doorman hands me a bouquet of flowers.”

“Are they nice flowers?”

“They’re expensive.”

“Bet your apartment smells nice, at least.”

“They don’t make it that far.”

“What do you mean?”

“At first, I tossed them into the trash. Then I thought, what have these flowers done? They don’t deserve to be wasted. So now I go out onto the street, pick someone who looks like they might need a bit of cheering up, and give them to a random stranger.”

My eyebrows shoot up.

“And what sort of reaction is that met with?”

Ollie chuckles.

“Surprisingly good, actually. People come around when they see I’m not a loon.”

“So, that’d eat up, what, ten, fifteen minutes?”

He chuckles.

“Smart-ass.”

“And has it changed anything for you?”

“Expensive flowers can’t make up for what he did. But…”

“What?”

A sharp exhale.

“I still love him.”

“That doesn’t stop overnight,” I say.

I’m learning that lesson myself.

Despite doing everything I can to minimize contact with Jackson these past few weeks, my feelings for him have remained stubbornly the same.

I’ve hated creating distance between us, but I had to do it. Honesty and trust are nonnegotiables for me. They should be for everyone, really. It’s the easiest way to show respect for someone you care about.

And I know that despite the Great Wall of Jackson set up around his heart, he does have feelings for me. So why the fuck won’t he open up and tell me what’s going on? I realize I haven’t made it easy for him to reach me, but he hasn’t even tried.

“So when do my emotions catch up to reality?”

Ollie asks, his voice laced with pain and confusion.

“You’re asking the wrong guy about that. My feelings for Jackson and the reality of Jackson are two completely separate train tracks— Holy shit!”

“What is it?”

“I see Jackson.”

“You…materialized him out of thin air?”

“No. He’s across the street. Clancy is with him. They’re leaving a doctor’s clinic.”

“Maybe he’s got sleep apnea, too?”

“It’s a different doctor to mine.”

“Wait, I thought you were driving?”

“I’m in my car, but I haven’t left yet.”

“Can they see you?”

“No.”

Clancy is leading Jackson down a ramp. He parked his Jeep right out front; I’m further down the block on the opposite side of the street.

“Jackson requested time off ages back. Told me he had a dentist appointment. This doesn’t make any sense. Why would he come all this way for a dental appointment when there’s a perfectly good dentist in Silverstone? And why would he need his grandfather for that?”

Ollie recognizes they’re rhetorical questions and doesn’t answer them.

“What are they doing now?”

“Getting into Clancy’s car.”

“Who’s driving?”

“Clancy is.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Do you think that maybe it is drugs?”

“Really?”

“I’m speculating. It could be any number of things. For all we know, Jackson could have been taking Clancy to the doctor. What are they doing now?”

“Clancy is pulling out. Oh shit.”

I tuck my chin into my collar and slump down behind the wheel.

“What is it? Did they see you?”

I wait until Clancy has driven past before bracing my hands on the wheel and raising myself upright, my eyes locked on the rearview mirror.

“I’m pretty sure they didn’t.”

“You should go check it out.”

“Check what out?”

“The doctor’s clinic they came out of. That’ll give you a clue as to what type of doctor they went to.”

My chest fills with disappointment.

“No, man. If Jackson doesn’t want to tell me what the hell is going on, I’m not going to snoop around like some C-rate private eye to find out. I should get going.”

“Maverick?”

“What?”

“You don’t sound too great. Let’s keep talking.”

“Actually, I need some time to think. I’ll call you later.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah…I promise.”

I take off, my mind racing a million miles an hour, but my speedometer never reaches more than fifty. I assume Jackson and Clancy are heading back to the rescue center since Jackson only requested the morning off. I don’t want them to see me driving behind them on the only road into Silverstone and think I’m stalking them like some deranged psycho.

As I turn onto the highway, my imagination runs wild. Maybe I should have taken a look at the name of the doctor’s clinic they came out of. It would have at least given me a clue. Not knowing anything is driving me nuts.

Why was Jackson at a doctor’s clinic, and more importantly—why did he lie about it?

My first thought is that maybe he’s in recovery, too, and he went to the doctor as part of his treatment plan. But then, why wouldn’t he say anything after I told him my story?

Maybe he and Clancy are in therapy. Who knows what messed-up family dynamics they still haven’t told me about.

Maybe he needed to get some diagnostic work done. But why would he make up the dentist story if it was something so routine? Why wouldn’t he just tell me he had a medical appointment and leave it at that? It’s not like I would have demanded to know the specific details.

Or maybe it’s as Ollie suggested, and Clancy is the one with the medical issue. Given his age, that makes sense. What doesn’t make sense is why Jackson was the one needing Clancy’s help getting to the car.

My cheeks puff out as I push out a long, weary breath. Not knowing sucks. I pass th.

“Silverstone - 2 mi”

marker, but I’m not ready to go back to the sanctuary and face Jackson just yet.

I pull over by the side of the road, cancel my scheduled meetings for this afternoon, then take a turn onto Main Street.

Ten minutes later, I’m sitting on a barstool at Bunny’s, cradling a whiskey in my hands.