The Has-Been and the Hot Mess - Isabel Jordan Page 0,37

were way better than commercial air travel.

Who knew, right?

But honestly, almost everything after getting the call about her father was a blur. She’d moved like a zombie, packing random clothes (she’d be lucky if she had clean underwear when she opened her luggage), scooping everything on the bathroom sink into her bag, and giving Ray half-assed instructions on what to do with Jackson’s social media while she was in transit.

While she did all that, Jackson had arranged for a helicopter to land on his property and whisk them to the airport, where a plane sat, fueled and ready to take them to Indianapolis.

And yes, she meant them, not her, because Jackson was still with her. He’d been with her, holding her hand during the somewhat bumpy helicopter ride. He’d let her sleep (and probably drool) on his shoulder on the plane.

And now, he was carrying her bag and his in one hand while he wrapped his free arm around her waist to usher her into the hospital.

She hadn’t asked him to come with her, but here he was. His solid presence was pretty much the only thing that’d kept her sane on the journey. She wouldn’t have made it on her own.

But before she could tell him so, she was mobbed the second she set foot in the cardiac waiting room. Her mom and Annabeth fell into her arms, and it was all she could do to remain on her feet while she hugged them both back.

“Thank God you’re here,” her mother whispered in her ear. “Honey, it’s so good to see you.”

Kendall tightened her hold, suddenly fighting back tears.

When they all disengaged, Annabeth looked past Kendall at Jackson, and her mouth dropped comically open.

“Holy fucking underwear model,” she blurted, and not with her inside voice. “Is he with you?”

Jackson chuckled, but Kendall frowned at her. “And why is that so hard to believe?”

Annabeth shook her head, looking dazed. “I mean, I’ve met every boy you’ve brought home since your first date, and not one of them looked like this.”

Her mom finally seemed to notice Jackson too, but she only blinked up at him.

Kendall sighed. This was going to be a long day. “Annabeth, this is Jackson Hale. Jackson, this is my sister Annabeth. Jackson is my…” Object of lust? Unholy obsession? Walking wet dream?

“Boyfriend,” Jackson interrupted, giving Annabeth his million-dollar smile. “At least, that’s what I’m trying to be. She’s been difficult to win over, though.”

Kendall snorted. He could’ve had her flat on her back with her legs up in the air the minute they first met if he’d really wanted to. He was like the fucking Borg. Resistance was futile.

(And no, she wasn’t at all embarrassed by her knowledge of Star Trek villains. Her nerd knowledge was beyond reproach and she wouldn’t apologize for it.)

But since she didn’t see the point of sharing that info with her sister or with Jackson, she turned to her mom. “Mom, Jackson made it possible for me to get here a full day faster than any commercial flight could’ve managed. Jackson, this is Lilian Quinn, my mom.”

Jackson took her mom’s tiny outstretched hand and sandwiched it between his own huge, calloused paws, giving her a warm smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I wish it could’ve been under better circumstances.”

Her mom didn’t say anything for a moment. Just frowned up at him with a question in her eyes. Eventually, she let go of his hand and pointed her index finger at him. “I know you! You’re the sweaty boy with the tattoos on the poster in Kendall’s room!”

Well, that was a showstopper, wasn’t it?

Every eye in the waiting room turned to Kendall and Jackson at that point, and Kendall had to fight the urge to face-palm. Jackson tipped his head in her direction and his lips quirked up in a cocky smile that simultaneously made her want to kiss the crap out of him and nut-punch him.

“Oh, really?” he asked, drawing the really out for several extra syllables.

She waved him off even as she felt a monumental blush rising to her cheeks. “Don’t let it go to your head. I already told you I was a Maelstrom fan. What of it?”

“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me you were a Jackson Hale fan specifically.”

“Oh my God!” Annabeth cried. “You’re Jackson Hale!”

“Well, welcome to the conversation, Annabeth,” Kendall snarked testily. “OK, let’s just move this along, shall we? Yes, he’s hot. Yes, he was the lead singer of Maelstrom. Yes, I had