Page 41 of Just One Look

Maverick

Jackson and I are huddling under a blanket on the bench under the valley oak tree, waiting for the thirtieth, and final, fireworks show to begin.

“You warm enough?”

I ask, my breath painting the crisp night air white.

He snuggles into me. “I am.”

After our breakthrough at the fundraiser, I called the fireworks company the next day to change the subsequent twenty-nine messages.

Same message style, less begging tone.

We’ve watched them together every single night. The first two weeks from Clancy’s back deck. On day fifteen, Jackson’s new cabin was ready for him to move into, so we’ve been watching them from the sanctuary ever since, spelling out my messages to him, letter by letter.

The last two nights’ messages were my most personal.

And longest.

The first one was something I heard while I was in rehab, and it’s stuck with me all this time.

Everyone has two lives. The second one begins when you realize you only have one.

Finding out about Jackson’s condition has only made me appreciate that sentiment even more. We wasted so much time arguing and playing games, time we should’ve used cherishing what remained of his sight.

But we can’t go back and change the past. And I’ve learned my lesson. We only get one life, and I intend on never taking that for granted ever again.

Last night’s display was just as deep, if not a touch lighter, courtesy of the queen of country music herself, Ms. Dolly Parton.

Find out who you are and do it on purpose.

The last few months have been the most challenging and grueling of my life. Taking over the sanctuary, remaining sober, and of course, Jackson. I’ve been pushed to my limits, frustrated beyond belief, but even during the hardest times, I kept going, guided by an internal driver I’ve never had before.

Purpose.

Sammy needs me to be there for him.

Wagner needs me to make his life harder and easier in equal measure so that maybe one day, he can finally open up to me.

The staff and animals at the rescue center need me to make the place financially viable.

And Jackson needs me. Maybe he’d never say that out loud, but he does. There’s nothing wrong or weak about that. It’s okay to need someone. It’s what makes us human.

“Did I ever tell you about my bench theory?”

I ask, tugging my coat tighter around my body.

“No. What’s that?”

“Do you remember the first time we spoke out here?”

“I do. It was the day you waltzed in and announced you were the new owner.”

“Correct. Except I didn’t waltz in here. I walked like a normal person. Anyway, after I made the announcement, you were riled up. I suggested we go outside to talk.”

He grins.

“More witnesses for your murder?”

“Exactly. You sat right at the very edge of the bench, as far away from me as possible. I thought it was funny. You were probably too angry to notice.”

“I was.”

“Whenever we’d meet out here, I’d observe where you sat. Little by little, you started moving in closer.”

“So that’s why you’d smile and look so ridiculously happy for no reason. It all makes sense now.”

“You’re wrong. I did have a reason. I took your physical proximity as a sign of how we were progressing.”

The corners of his mouth dip, and his shoulders droop.

“That’s…that’s actually really sweet.”

I reach for his hand.

“Then why do you look sad?”

“Because it just makes me realize how much of a jerk I was to you.”

“You had your reasons.”

“That doesn’t excuse my behavior.”

“True. But there’s a world of difference between acting like a jerk and being a jerk. You’re a good person. A little rough around the edges, but that has its charm.”

“You say that now.”

“I’ll say that forever.”

His lips part, but before either one of us can say anything, the night sky erupts in sparks and glitter for the final message.

I wrap my fingers tighter around his, watching his face the whole time as I read out the letters to him.