Moment of Truth - Kasie West Page 0,64
not a bad thing. It’s just you’re so good . . . perfect.”
“Hey, I just stole a truck.”
He laughed. “I know! You even excel in the fear-facing department.”
“I needed a mask to face my fears. I’m obviously not perfect.”
“The only reason you need the mask is because you’re afraid of not being perfect.”
“Not true.” I said it but only halfheartedly. That was mostly right. “But either way, I’m not.”
“You’re Moore.”
I rolled up my jeans and sat on the edge of the pool. “What does that mean?”
“Amelia was wrong about why I call you Moore. If I tell you why I really call you that, you promise not to hate me?”
“I promise. Unless it’s really bad. Then I’ll hate you.”
He pulled up his sweats and sat down next to me. “Okay, it started off as a joke.”
“Not surprising.” It used to sound mocking every time he’d said it.
“Because your last name fit your personality so well. You always have to do more and be better at everything than everyone else.”
I gasped. “Rude.”
“Motivation isn’t a bad thing. I think I was jealous of it. Then I got to know you, and realized you are more. So it fit.”
I kicked my foot and splashed him with water. He held up his hands to block the spray. Then he jumped up to a squat, wrapped his arm around my waist, and dragged me back so I couldn’t do it again. In the process, he lost his footing and stumbled back, me falling against him so we were both sitting again, me now nestled between his knees. I struggled to get free, but he held me tight from behind. He rested his chin on my shoulder. “No more water, fish.”
I relaxed, letting him hold me, my back running the length of his chest. He felt solid and soft at the same time. “How did you know that driving the truck would be the hardest thing for me to do?”
A light cut through the black of the pool. “Who’s out there?” a deep voice called out past the fence.
I laughed and Jackson stood, pulling me up with him.
“It’s just Marvin,” I said. “The janitor. He likes me.”
“Does everyone like you?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I don’t know that it would have the same answer.”
I turned to face him. Did he really not think people liked him? Everyone liked him. I was the one that everyone thought was a closed-off jerk.
“Hello?” Marvin called again.
“Just me!” I yelled to Marvin, still looking at Jackson. “Hadley Moore.”
Jackson smiled his sly smile at me. “So much more,” he whispered.
Thirty
Back in the truck, Jackson was messing with the radio again when suddenly music blasted through the cab so loud that I almost swerved off the road.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, quickly adjusting the volume.
“How did you get it to work?” I asked.
“I don’t know. This button here.”
“Cool.” I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel to an old classic rock song.
“What’s this?” Jackson tapped the top of the cardboard box on the seat between us.
“My brother.”
“Whoa.” He held up his hands. “Your brother’s ashes are in this truck?”
“No. It’s this thing we do every year for him. A mini memorial service. My mom and sometimes my dad pick out a few things that remind them of Eric. Then we wake up on his death day and talk about him and put the box in the truck. Then we go eat his favorite food.”
“Wow, that’s more than my parents do on my birthday.”
“It’s pretty elaborate.”
He pulled the box onto his lap, then paused with his hands on either side of the lid. “May I?”
“Sure. It’s nothing earth-shattering.”
He opened it and looked inside. First he pulled out the picture of my brother and his prom date. “Check out that hair.”
I laughed.
“So this is him?”
“That’s him.”
“The golden child.”
“Yep. You should hear the stories. He did no wrong.”
“You grew up on those stories?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder you feel the need to be perfect. You thought he was. You have to live up to that.”
I didn’t say anything. The truck rumbled in the silence, headlights cutting through the blackness beyond the windshield.
“You know he wasn’t perfect, right? You know he had faults and made mistakes and probably made your parents mad a lot, but they don’t remember all that anymore.”
“I don’t know that. I never knew him.”
“I didn’t either and I know it’s true. Even if they did remember those things, they wouldn’t talk about them now. He’s dead.”
“I know.”
“I’m being insensitive. I just find myself getting defensive