Page 25 of Baby, It's Cod Outside
“I’m not out to hurt you, Ben. I want the truth, but I’m not trying to sacrifice you to get to it.”
Jackson sits back in the booth, the spell around him shattered. This is a man who has learned to live without grace, from himself or anyone else.
Ben understands him at that moment. The breath-stealing ache of regret. The fear of who you really might be under pressure. The slow, painful work of trying to do better, be better.
He just doesn’t know how to say it. He doesn’t have Jackson’s command of language. So Ben says the only thing that comes to him. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Jackson laughs, incredulous. “What for, Ben? How could you possibly be sorry forthis?”
“Just…that you had to go through it.”
Jackson’s mouth twists. “I didn’t go through it. Iinflictedit.”
“Still,” Ben says. “Thank you. For telling me.”
Jackson goes very still. Ben catches the initial flicker of resistance, the self-protective flash of skepticism that moves across his face like a shadow. But then it fades. What’s left is quieter, softer in a way Ben hadn’t realized he’d been hoping for.
“Sure,” Jackson says, voice low. He’s the one who reaches out first, thumb skimming lightly over Ben’s knuckles. Fleeting as it is, Ben still feels it all the way down to his toes.
They finish breakfast in comfortable silence, the kind that suffuses rather than oppresses. When the waitress sets the bill down, Ben angles it toward himself.
“You covered me last night,” he says, already pulling out his wallet. “My turn.”
“Are we keeping score now?”
Ben shrugs, a grin forming. “It’s more of a sliding emotional scale. Whoever’s not having an existential crisis when the bill shows up has to pay.”
Jackson laughs under his breath. “High stakes, given the competition. What if neither of us qualify?”
“We’ll just have to take turns being functional,” Ben says, handing the receipt back with his card.
Jackson finishes the dregs of his coffee, grimacing slightly. “You always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Offer something back,” Jackson says, like he’s trying to work it out. “Even when you’re off-balance, you still try to meet people halfway.”
“Yeah, well, that policy has had some… mixed returns.” Ben shifts in his seat, a little embarrassed.
Jackson’s eyes stay steady on his. “For what it’s worth, I meant what I said earlier. I’m not out to try to hurt you.”
“I know,” Ben says softly, gathering his things.
Against every anxious instinct telling him to brace for impact, he believes it.
Chapter 16
Jackson
The office is quiet except for the rhythmic clicking of the old space heater under Jackson’s desk. He’s hunched forward, laptop screen glaring painfully blue. It’s still early, but he hasn’t moved in hours.
Mort passes behind his cubicle with a to-go coffee, “You still breathing, Baquet?”
Jackson doesn’t look up. “Barely.”
“You owe me two articles. Don’t make me come in there with a cattle prod.”
“I filed the council update an hour ago. The reign of over-filled garbage cans continues, despite best efforts. Riveting stuff.”
