Page 14 of Needing You

Jackson’s face grew even more pained, and he leaned back on the couch, closing his eyes. He looked like he was trying to make himself disappear.

I reached forward and put a hand on his knee from my spot on the coffee table across from him. “I know this is a lot.”

“A lot?” he asked, opening his eyes but not otherwise moving.

“More than a lot.”

“This whole time … they’ve been right here.”

I swallowed back the bile that threatened to rise. “Yes.”

“So even thoughhe’sbeen in New York this whole time, I could have hadthem.”

“Yes. But if he’d known about you, I’m sure you would have had him too.”

It was so hard to admit that, but it was the truth. I’d told Jackson the whole story—from our reckless beginning as teenagers to the trip to New York to now. I’d been vague in my descriptions about New York in an effort not to speak ill of his father. But I was less vague about our actions as teenagers. If there were ever a time to show him the consequences of not using protection, it was now. But he needed to know everything, including my fault in this, and there was no sense in lying to protect myself. I didn’t want any more secrets or half-truths between us. Not if we had any hope of getting past this.

Jackson folded his arms across his chest, his shoulders curling inward. I could tell he didn’t wanthimselfto disappear now as much as he wantedmeto. But then he alternated between pulling his top lip between his teeth and then doing the same with his bottom lip, like he was trying to fight the questions that wanted to spill out.

“What is it?” I asked gently.

“Well, I guess I’m just wondering what he’s like.”

I felt a slight smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Of course he wanted to know more about his dad than deal with me and what I’d done to him. This new road we were on would probably be full of opportunities for me to see their similarities, so I mentally buckled up for the ride.

“Like I said earlier, he’s a chef. He did really well for himself in New York.”

“Why is he back here then?”

I pursed my lips, realizing that in all the talking Will and I had done yesterday, it wasn’t about him. It was about Jackson and what Will had missed. I didn’t know much that I could tell my son. Though, that was probably a good thing. That way Jackson could form his own judgments about his father instead of hearing everything from me.

“Um, actually… I’m not sure why he’s back. We haven’t talked about it.”

“Whathaveyou talked about?”

“You, mostly.”

“What about me?”

I sighed. “Well, when we spoke yesterday, the first things he wanted to know were about you and what kind of stuff you were into. I told him a bunch of stories from when you were little all the way until now.”

Jackson sniffed, but he didn’t look like he was on the verge of tears, so that had to be a good sign. “Did he seem like he… I don’t know… cared?”

At this, I rose from my seat on the coffee table and joined him on the couch, taking one of his large hands in mine. “Of course. He definitely cares. In fact, he wants to meet you today if you’re okay with it.”

Jackson seemed to stop breathing. His eyes were focused on the wall and his hand was practically frozen in mine. “I think that’d be okay.”

“Are you sure? Because you don’t have to rush—”

“Rush?” he asked, turning sharply to look me in the eye. “I’m fifteen, Mom. Pretty sure that’s a long enough time to wait. Don’t you think?”

I tried to swallow, but there was a lump the size of this couch stuck in my throat, and I had to force it after several failed attempts. “Yeah. I do.”

“Where is he?”

Letting go of his hand, I checked my watch. “He should be here soon. I told him to stop by around four. But I was obviously going to tell him it wasn’t a good time if you weren’t comfortable with it. I wouldn’t want to force you into anything you didn’t want to do.”

He snorted. “Right.”

---