Page 30 of Just One Look

Maverick

Twenty-five minutes later, I’m still holding the same drink. It’s fuller than it was before, the ice having melted into the amber liquid.

I’ve spent most of the time thinking about my last visit here. It was the day I met Jackson. Sitting in this exact same spot, clutching the exact same drink, and not feeling anything.

I was lost and ambling through life with no real sense of direction, glad to have left my old life in the city behind, along with all the toxic people who betrayed me with it, but I wasn’t feeling excited about the future. Even Ollie calling to say I’d secured the rescue center didn’t light me up inside. I was following the same pattern I had been my whole life, going through the motions, doing something for the sake of doing it.

Until a certain black-haired, freckle-cheeked spitfire tore through this place and messed up Ridge Duporth’s face, and my life hasn’t been the same since. From the moment I chased after him and he flipped me off—multiple times—I felt a spark.

And that spark has ignited a fire in other areas of my life, too.

I’m excited and passionate about turning the sanctuary around. When I’m with Sammy, I’m really with him, present and paying attention to all the crazy shit he does, relishing this precious time I have with him before he grows up and becomes too cool to call me Uncle Kick. I do wish that Wagner and I were closer, but I still enjoy having him in my life on terms that work for him.

And then there’s Jackson.

The most intriguing, confusing, beautiful, frustrating, sensitive person I’ve ever met. He’s got a temper. He’s as stubborn as a mule. He’s tested me and pushed buttons I didn’t even know I had…but despite all that, I love him anyway.

I can’t help it. I do.

That’s why I’m so hurt and confused by him not being honest with me.

This whole situation has brought up my trust issues, big-time. But I don’t want to let what happened with my ex and my former-life friends bleed into what’s happening with Jackson. This whole situation might be triggering me, but he isn’t Luca. He isn’t being deceptive to feed his overinflated sense of ego. He’s not going behind my back and deliberately trying to hurt me.

Deep down, Jackson is a good person. There has to be a reasonable explanation for all of this. Clancy and his family are decent, caring people. No way would he let Jackson fuck me over. It’s not who any of them are.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

I glance up to see the owner, Bunny, greeting me with a soft, welcoming smile.

“Oh, I was just—it’s nothing.”

Nothing I want to get into with a stranger, at any rate.

Her gaze shifts to the drink I haven’t touched. She plucks something out of her back pocket and lays a gold-plated medallion stamped with “10”

on the counter in front of me.

“Ten years,”

I say, admiring her sobriety coin.

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Are you in recovery, too?”

“That obvious?”

She offers a sympathetic smile.

“No, hon. Only to me. Work in a bar all your life, you learn to read people.”

“It hasn’t even been a year yet.”

“The beginning is often the hardest part.”

I slide the lowball glass away from me.

“Not for me. I’m perfectly happy to never touch alcohol ever again.”

“So you’re testing yourself?”

“Something like that.”

Part of me wishes she’d go away and leave me alone, but she’s one of those people who exudes such a caring, almost motherly energy, I don’t have it in me to ask her to leave.

“So if it’s not the booze, it’s usually one other thing. Love?”

I nod slowly. “Bingo.”

“That one can be just as tricky.”

“Tell me about it.”

She reaches for my tumbler.

“You done with this?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

I nudge a twenty-dollar bill across the counter.

She grins, propping one hand on her hip.

“Is that for me to leave you the fuck alone?”

Was I being that obvious? I wince inwardly.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude.”

“You’re fine. I have no intention of prying…but can I leave you with one piece of unsolicited advice based on a situation I know absolutely nothing about?”

I muster a slight chuckle.

“You’d lose your bartending license if you didn’t, right?”

“Exactly.”

She grips both hands on the counter and leans in to deliver whatever life truth she sees fit for me.

“Everyone makes mistakes, and everyone is capable of changing.”

“Let me guess,”

I interrupt.

“Next, you’re going to tell me how everyone deserves a second chance?”

She shakes her head, her gray ponytail swinging behind her shoulders.

“Not at all, Mr. Benson. What I was about to say is that most people don’t deserve a second chance because most people either won’t admit they made a mistake, or they won’t do the work necessary to genuinely atone for whatever they’ve said or done.”

“Oh.”

“But every once in a while, someone comes along who is worth making an exception for. They take accountability for what they did, and they take concrete steps to get their life back on track.”

She pulls back, and her eyes have turned glassy.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from personal experience.”

“I am,”

she says softly, taking back the medallion, twirling it between her fingers for a moment, then sliding it back into her pocket.

“Before I got sober, I ruined a lot of lives. It cost me my marriage…and my kids. I have a granddaughter I’ve never seen and a son who doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Life isn’t fair, hon. That’s why if you find someone who’s worth it, do everything you can to fight for them so that you don’t end up alone with nothing but regrets to haunt you.”

“That’s heavy.”

“It is.”

She smiles sadly and starts to move away.

“Anyway, hope that helps a little. I’ll back off now.”

“Hey, Bunny,”

I call out.

She stops and looks over at me. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry your kids aren’t prepared to give you a second chance.”

She smiles.

“Thanks, hon.”

I put down another twenty and take off.

Avoiding Jackson was the wrong move.

Locking the door to my office so he can’t bring me a coffee and note each morning. Taking meetings in cafes in town. Slipping out at different times in the afternoon so we didn’t run into each other. That’s not very mature of me.

The only exception was working from home the day his cabin was demolished. I couldn’t be there for that. I knew Clancy and Pip were helping him move, but seeing him as his house got torn down would have been too much to bear. I know how much that place meant to him.

Steering clear of him has only made me miserable, and it’s done absolutely nothing to actually resolve the issue. If I have an expectation of honesty, that cuts both ways. I need to tell him how I feel, too.

I’m going back to the sanctuary, and neither one of us is leaving until we’ve hashed this thing out once and for all.

The front door swings open just as I approach it, and who am I standing face-to-smug-face with other than the last person in the world I ever want to bump into?

I force a smile. “Duporth.”

A bushy blond eyebrow flicks up. “Benson.”

Objectively, I guess you could say Ridge Duporth is attractive, with meticulously styled platinum-blond hair and steely ice-blue eyes. Personally, that whole Nordic ice king in a designer suit vibe has never done anything for me. Give me dirty clothes, a waft of manly sweat, and messed-up black hair any day of the week.

I half expect Western music to start playing through the jukebox with the way we’re staring off against each other. I’ve got a mile-long list of grievances against the guy, but the most recent one is the one that really grinds my gears—his connection to Jackson.

Why did Jackson sock it to him?

Yet another thing I know nothing about.

I point to the exit.

“I should?—”

“Wait.”

“What?”

“I need a favor.”

I flash him a look that screams WTF.

“Think the peroxide has seeped into your brain, Duporth.”

“This is my natural color, asshole.”

“I don’t give two shits about your hair color, and I’m not interested in doing anything for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

I push past him, careful to avoid making any physical contact so that we don’t end up in a fistfight.

I’m halfway out the door when I hear.

“It’s about Jackson.”

I come to a standstill but don’t turn around.

“What about him?”

“He works for you, doesn’t he?”

My skin crawls, hating every single thing about this interaction. “He does.”

“Well, then…can you get him to call me?”

Why the fuck does Duporth want Jackson to call him?

I spin on my heel, my jaw clenched.

“Do I look like your personal secretary?”

Duporth drops his gaze to my chest and smirks.

“No. Your tits aren’t as nice.”

Of course he’s a sexist pig, to boot.

“I don’t have time for this.”

“But you’re his boss.”

“So?”

“You can make him do it.”

“If that’s really what you think, then I feel sorry for your staff.”

I start inching toward the exit again.

“If you want to speak to Jackson, call him yourself.”

“He’s not answering my texts. I think he’s blocked my number.”

I let out a derisive laugh.

“Would’ve thought you’d be used to people doing that by now.”

Ridge bristles. He’s a man all too accustomed to getting his way. Reminds me a lot of my father in that regard.

The skin around his glacial blue eyes pinches.

“It’s important. Please.”

It takes every ounce of self-restraint I have not to ask, what’s so important? But if I didn’t snoop around at the doctor’s office, I sure as shit am not going to lower my standards with this prick.

“Not interested.”

“Look, it’s not about his condition. I’ve kept my mouth shut just like he asked me to. Learned my lesson there. I don’t need him punching me in the face again. It’s about something else.”

Rage burns in my chest.

“Fuck off, Duporth,”

I growl and spin around, storming through the front doors, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing my reaction.

I am livid.

Not only has Jackson told me diddly fucking squat, but Ridge Duporth knows more than I do. What warped reality is this?

I have been nothing but kind and patient and accommodating to Jackson this whole time. The one, the only, thing I’ve ever asked for in return is that we’re honest with each other. No more lies. We made a deal. He shook on it. Willingly.

And so what does he do? He lies to me and tells Ridge the truth.

That’s it.

I’ve had it.

I’m going to track Jackson down and introduce him to a side of me he’s never seen before.