Page 3

Jackson

“S pit it out, son.”

I glance up from my plate of lasagna and meet my father's piercing gaze. His eyes, the same shade of brown as mine, hold a mixture of concern and curiosity.

I glance down at the food I’ve been torturing with my fork. “Sorry, Dad. It’s great, really.”

“You’ve been quiet ever since you came back from lunch. What’s happened?”

It’s none of my business really, this whole Chloe thing, but it’s been playing on my mind all day.

Just recalling the tears shimmering in her eyes and the way she collapsed against my chest has me wanting to tear through town and find Brendan.

Chloe’s a good girl—one of the best. She’s damned cute too.

While she might be Ethan’s little sister, I’m not blind.

Brendan’s an idiot to let her go so easily.

And so callously.

I don’t keep secrets from Dad, though, and it won’t be long until everyone knows Brendan dumped Chloe. I just hope to God everyone knows he also treated her like crap.

“Chloe’s boyfriend broke up with her today.”

Dad shoves his fork into his food and gives a little shrug. “It’s no fun being dumped, son, but it happens.” He shoves the food into his mouth and swallows before saying, “I never liked that Brendan kid anyway.”

“Me neither,” I admit.

Chloe always seemed a little more tense after she started dating him. She lost a little bit of her free-spiritedness, but I just put it down to her growing up a bit.

“But he broke up with her over a text message,” I continue.

Dad shakes his head. “Why am I not surprised? Brendan’s dad’s not much better. He ran off with that waitress for three months, remember? Sounds like father, like son.”

“Chloe’s pretty distraught.”

“I bet. Poor kid. Her mom was always worried they’d do something stupid like get pregnant and marry young. Chloe seemed pretty in love with the boy.”

“Chloe’s too smart for that.”

“Agreed.” Dad leans back in his chair and takes a sip of water. “But it’s better she found out what a piece of crap Brendan is now rather than years down the line. I’m sure she’ll be fine soon.”

I wasn’t so sure. It’s a small enough town, and Chloe worked with Brendan. She wouldn’t be able to escape the heartbreak of it all easily, and Brendan would be in her face most days.

Shit.

The thought that maybe Brendan might change his mind and persuade her to take him back strikes me hard, making a bitter taste rise in my mouth.

She wasn’t that dumb, surely?

But she was in love, and as far as I could tell, love made people really, really dumb sometimes.

“I wish Ethan was home for summer,” I mutter.

“He and Chloe have always been close,” my dad agrees. “I guess they’ve had to be.”

I nod. “Their dad’s depression doesn’t help.”

As far as I know, Mr. Davenport had been depressed pretty much Chloe and Ethan’s whole lives.

I never really noticed it—he always seemed a chatty, relaxed sort of man—but it was no secret Ethan played more of a father figure to Chloe than her dad did, and Mrs. Davenport did her best. But both Ethan and Chloe picked up the slack when their dad was at his worst.

“Your Aunt Gina had depression after your cousin was born,” my dad says. “Uncle Rick had a hell of a time managing her and a newborn.”

“I don’t really remember.”

“You were only three,” Dad reminds me. “But it was all hands on deck. We were just lucky Gina came out of it intact. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have to live like that. Michelle has the patience of a saint.”

Mrs. Davenport was an amazing mom—there was no doubt about it.

As well as juggling a high-powered job, a depressed husband, and two kids, she looked after us too.

Though my dad is a mean cook and between us we keep the house tidy, neither of us can pretend we don’t miss Mom.

Though I don’t really remember her, I’m always aware of the gap she left in my life.

Mrs. Davenport tried to fill that as much as she could, even if it was just dropping off freshly baked cookies or using that scented stuff on my football jersey while Ethan and I hung out at his house after a game.

I feel bad. Bad for Chloe and bad for Mrs. Davenport. I know Mr. Davenport has been having a rough time lately, and Chloe won’t want to go to her mom for support, even if her mom would give it gladly.

“You going to do something about Chloe?” Dad’s question brings me back to the present.

I sigh, pushing my plate away, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore. “I don’t know, Dad. I feel like I need to help her out somehow.”

Dad nods sagely. “She’s like family, son. Her brother’s not here at the moment, and she could use someone looking out for her.”

He’s right. Chloe deserves better than what Brendan put her through.

“I’m not sure I know what to do with a heartbroken girl, though.”

Dad chuckles, and I eye him, brow furrowed. “What’s so funny?”

“Your mom and I might not have had as many years together as I’d have liked, but I did learn one thing about women.”

“What’s that?”

His grin widens. “Ice cream, son. The answer is always ice cream.”

I can’t help but laugh. If my dad had seen Chloe’s heartbroken face and felt the way she trembled in my arms, he might be giving different advice, but it’s a start.

“I guess I’m heading to the store then.”

Dad jabs a fork in my direction. “Just don’t go after Brendan.”

I lift my hands. “I wasn’t even considering—”

“Yes, you were.”

“Just briefly.”

“Ice cream and ‘I’m here to listen.’ That’s all you need. No fists.”

“No fists,” I promise.

Doesn’t mean I can’t make life really difficult for Brendan if needs be, though.

I shovel down the rest of dinner, grab my keys off the counter and shrug into my jacket as Dad watches from the table, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Good luck,” he calls as I head for the door.

Driving to the store, I replay the look on Chloe’s face when she told me about Brendan.

That haunted, crushed expression keeps flickering in my mind, making my chest ache.

She deserves better—better than Brendan, better than this shitty situation.

The thought stirs something protective in me, something I’m not quite ready to examine.

At the store, I wander the frozen aisle, scanning rows of brightly colored ice cream cartons. I know what she likes. Of course I do. I’ve known her long enough and recently I’ve been paying far too much attention to her dislikes and likes. But will it be weird to turn up with her favorite?

Oh, hell. I grab her favorite and pay quickly before I change my mind.

By the time I pull into the Davenport’s driveway, the sun is setting, casting everything in a warm, golden light. The house looks quiet, and for a moment, I wonder if this is a good idea. But then I think about Chloe, probably curled up in her room feeling miserable.

I know I can’t just leave.