Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,36

You start letting people do whatever they want, pretty soon there’s a car wrapped around a tree.”

I nodded obediently. “That’s right, I think I remember this lesson from Sesame Street. ‘Rules are meant to protect us.’ I like your hardcore repackaging of it.”

He glared.

“What else?” I pressed. “What else happened today?”

He set his food down beside him, cupping his forehead with one hand. I unconsciously did the same, alarmed. Jackson was an enthusiastic eater, to say the least. It wasn’t uncommon for him to eat two entrees in a single sitting, packing it all in with a single-minded focus.

Jackson, not eating? This was serious.

“Call came in from the Piggly Wiggly early this afternoon. Baby crying in the car, mother asleep in the locked car. A shopper came across them and wanted a welfare check after they couldn’t wake the mother. Wanted us to check it out.” He spoke mechanically, as if reciting a report, but his eyes were fixed intently on some distant spot as he relived the scene. “Knocked on the window, couldn’t wake the mother either. I broke the window and got inside the car. The mother was high, overdosed from the baggie in the footwell below. I radioed for an ambulance and administered a dose of Narcan while waiting for it to come.” He shook his head. “But that baby . . . God knows how long they’d been sitting there in that hot car. Baby’s sitting in a full diaper, screaming her head off. No bottle or formula in the car. No diaper bag with supplies or a change of clothes.” He ran a quick hand through his hair. “Some women went in the grocery store and got bottle of formula together. I fed the baby, talked to her, all while they came and strapped the mother to a gurney, took her away. Social Services came . . .” His eyes flicked to mine, then away. “They took the baby.”

“Oh, Jackson. What happened to that baby?”

He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Haven’t heard.”

“Did the Narcan help? Did the mother come around?”

He traced his creased forehead. “Yeah, she did. But who knows if someone will find her in time the next time? I guess I can be glad the baby won’t be with her next time, hopefully.”

We sat in painful silence. Green Valley certainly hadn’t been immune from the growing, deeply entrenched opioid epidemic. The reality was that there likely would be a next time for that woman unless someone intervened.

“Jackson.” I scrambled up, crawling until we were hip to hip. I threw my arms around him and he readily returned the embrace. “I’m so sorry,” I said into his hair. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like. I’m sorry. For everybody involved. And especially the child.”

He relaxed into my embrace and his arms tightened around me. We stayed that way for the next few minutes, together. Night came alive around us; crickets, cicadas and katydids all contributed to a nocturnal symphony. It was nice, giving someone comfort, being there and being needed by someone else.

Even though the romance between us was fake, the care for each other was real.

Jackson pulled back enough to look at me, his arms still securely clasped about me. “Why didn’t we work, Zora? You never really gave us a chance, you know. Not really.”

I let his arm take on the weight of my head as I took in his handsome, familiar face. It was a fair question. About a month into our arrangement, Jackson had made it clear that anytime I wanted to make things real, he’d be willing to give it a shot. So, what was wrong with me? Here was a handsome man, a man of integrity, compassion. Why couldn’t I just reach out and take advantage of all that he offered?

But even as I considered it, even as my gaze moved admiringly over the short blonde beard, the line of his jaw, my mind returned to the man I’d sparred with earlier that day. Nick.

Dark where Jackson was all light, complicated and secretive where Jackson was guileless. And even before Nick had reappeared, Jackson and I didn’t quite fit. The misalignment, as minor as it might have been to some, would have proved our undoing.

I told him a truth, one of several. “We don’t want the same things.”

His eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?”

“You know what I mean, Jackson. You’re still in your post-high school reject, metamorphosis phase. You’re still enjoying your