“It has to be.” I say the words defiantly. And before I can stop myself, I hear myself asking the one question that I know I shouldn’t. “Did you kill him?”
“What does it matter?” he asks. “The system is capricious. You know it as well as I do.”
A faint dread washes over me, not because I’m afraid that Jackson killed him, but because he is right. If he did kill Reed, the system will make him pay, even for the death of a monster. And if he didn’t kill Reed, it won’t matter. He will be an innocent man falsely convicted, punished for the potency of his hate rather than the reality of his actions.
“Would it change anything?” he asks me. “If I killed him, would it change anything between us?”
“No.” I say the word fiercely, because he needs to know how much I mean it. That there is even some small part of me that hopes—maybe even believes—that it is true. And, yes, that is humbled and excited by the knowledge that Jackson would kill to protect me.
He closes his eyes—just for a moment—but I see some of the tension escape him. When he looks at me again, I see a vulnerability that he rarely shows.
“I’m scared.” His voice is low, and even this close, I have to strain to hear him. “And that’s not an emotion I’m comfortable with. But lately I’m becoming more and more familiar with it. I’m afraid of losing you. Ronnie. My freedom.”
I can hear the pain and the confusion in his voice, and I understand it. His daughter is in limbo as much as Jackson’s freedom is. And for a man who needs to hold tight to control, limbo is a horrible place to be.
“I can survive anything. I’m certain of that. But that doesn’t mean I’m not scared of where this is going. And I don’t like you having to see me carry all this shit.”
“You can’t push me away because of this investigation. Not unless you want me to slap you again.”
I’m rewarded with a wry smile. “I get that,” he says. “But I’m not just talking about the murder. It’s Ronnie, too. I don’t like you seeing me flounder.”
“Flounder?” I think about how good he is with her—so naturally comfortable in a way I can’t even fathom—and am genuinely baffled.
“What the hell do I know about being a father? God knows mine was no role model.”
“You’re amazing with her,” I say, and though I’m being a hundred percent honest, I do understand what he means. Children have never been on my radar for exactly that reason—my parents screwed me up so much that I’m not sure I have a decent parenting bone in me.
“She’s the one who’s amazing,” he says. “But that’s not even what I mean. It’s like every decision is a test, and the wrong answer could mess up her life. Do I step in as her dad? Do I continue as an uncle? Do I leave her with Betty? There’s an infinite number of choices at every juncture and then a whole new set of choices after that. And there’s no way of knowing if I’m following the right path.”
“You think the fact that you’re struggling means you’ll be a bad father? It’s just the opposite, Jackson. Don’t you see? It matters so much to you—hell, it’s consuming you—and every step you’re taking is with her best interest in mind. That’s the definition of a good father, Jackson. You and I know that better than anyone.” I offer him a small smile and a gentle kiss on his cheek. “It’s pretty sexy, actually.”
He doesn’t laugh, but the tension in his face relaxes a bit.
“You’re doing the right thing for Ronnie,” I insist. “The best thing. You’re focusing on Ronnie because you want her life to be better. Because you love her. Leaving her with Betty isn’t a mistake. It’s a choice, and it’s the right one.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t made other mistakes. And I’m afraid that I’m going to have to pay for them sooner rather than later. I’m afraid Ronnie’s going to pay, too. And Syl,” he says, sliding his fingers through my hair to cup the back of my head as he looks deep into my eyes, “I’m afraid that you’re going to pay as well. I’m afraid you already are.”
“No.” I say the word fiercely, as if I can erase the shadows from his eyes simply by the force of my will. “Don’t go there, Jackson. Don’t you dare slide off into melancholy with me. Ronnie is better off having you in her life, and I am, too. I love you, and there is no price I wouldn’t pay to be with you.”
He looks at me then, as if he is absorbing my words. As if he’s weighing the truth of them. He looks at me for so long, in fact, that I’m almost compelled to speak, but then he does that first.
“Being with you in Santa Fe . . .” He trails off.
“What?”
I see something like pain flicker across his face. “I know I was an ass. It was because of Ronnie. Well, because of all of it. But I think it was mostly her.”
“Oh.” An icy chill snakes up my back, and I tense, certain I know where this is going. I’m not her mom. I haven’t the faintest idea how to be a mom. And right now Jackson needs to focus on two things: getting cleared and being a father. Which means he needs to not focus on me.
“It’s just that I caught myself thinking that it would be good—a comfort, I mean—if I knew that Ronnie would be safe on the outside with you if the worst happened.”
I frown, no longer sure where he’s heading. “And that turned you into an ass?”
The corner of his mouth actually curves up. “Have you not been paying attention? You found out about five minutes ago that I have a child. A child you’ve spent barely any time with. And yet in my mind I already had you filling the gap in her life when I end up behind bars. Auntie Syl, right there. Helping to take care of her. Protecting her. I mean, hell, sweetheart, I practically had you in the role of Mommy.”
My chest tightens, emotion flooding me. He wasn’t pulling away from me because he didn’t want me. Just the opposite.
“It’s selfish of me, and unrealistic, and—”
I can’t help myself. I burst into tears.
“Oh, Christ, Syl. Oh, shit.” Jackson wanted to kick himself. What the hell had he been thinking?
That was easy. He was thinking that he wanted her. Forever. For always. He wanted her. And he had to go and run off at the mouth without thinking about what she wanted.
“I’m sorry,” he rushed to say. “I shouldn’t have told you. Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything. That’s why she’s with Betty now, because of course I don’t really expect you to—”
“You’re such a fool.”
Her voice was thick with tears, and for a moment, Jackson was certain he must have misunderstood.
“Do you have any idea what that means to me? That you have that much faith in me? That you’d trust me with the most precious thing in your life?”
He stared at her, a little bit shell-shocked. Had he heard her right? Did she understand what she was saying?
“I haven’t got a clue how to play Mommy,” she continued. “But I love you, Jackson—those aren’t just words, and they sure as hell aren’t temporary.” She brushed her hand over his cheek. “Whatever you need, remember? And those aren’t just words, either. For better or worse, we’re getting through this. And we’re doing it together.”
He didn’t answer. Not yet. All he wanted to do was look at her. To breathe her in and let her words fill his head. Because they were damn good words.
For better or worse . . .
Someday, he thought. Someday she’d say those words to him again and he’d put a ring on her finger.
But first, they had to survive everything that was yet to come.
five
Our destination—the office of Bender, Twain & McGuire—takes up three floors in 2049 Century Park East, one of the two iconic triangular shaped towers that comprise the Century Plaza Towers in Century City. They rise up ahead of us, shining against the night sky, as Jackson maneuvers his beloved black Porsche down Santa Monica Boulevard, cutting a straight path from my condo to our destination.