About half an hour later, we’re both sitting on the rear step of the ambulance, huddled together beneath thick, gray blankets. The air smells like winter and diesel as cop lights flicker red and blue against the skeleton trees and icy road.
We’ve already spoken to the cops, gotten clean bills of health, and Jackson handed over the voice recorder. A few officers are down on the banks, their flashlights scanning the river, but they’ve said there’s not much they’ll be able to do whileit’s still frozen over. They likely won’t recover the body until the ice thaws.
Jackson sits pressed against my side, quiet, staring straight ahead.
“Jackson?!”
He jerks his head to the left.
“Jackson!”
“Dad!”
His blanket slips from his shoulders as he leaps up and runs around one of the cruisers to meet his father. I’m not surprised how quickly he showed up after the sheriff said he’d call, not when it was hissonwho needed him.
Keaton barrels toward him and pulls him into a crushing hug the moment they reach each other. Jackson throws his arms around him, holding him just as tightly.
I stand and approach slowly, staying far enough back to give them space but feeling physically incapable of being too far away from Jackson for too long.
Just because Keaton and I have had our differences, that doesn’t mean I ever wanted to drive a wedge between him and Jackson. There’s honestly something achingly endearing in seeing there’s still this bond between them despite the secrets and arguments they’ve had. Like witnessing the break in a storm cloud to reveal sunlight.
“I’m okay,” Jackson says into his dad’s chest. His breath shudders out. Not quite a sob, but close. “I’m okay.”
Keaton pulls back, his hands holding his son by the shoulders to look into his eyes. “Are you sure?”
Jackson nods, then peers back at me. “He got there in time.”
Keaton’s gaze lands on me, and his expression hardens, a byproduct of years of animosity between us. However, this time, it’s not quite with anger or loathing. It’s protective. Calculating.
“You saved him?”
“We saved each other,” I answer truthfully.
He studies me for a long, heavy beat. Then he nods once, the gesture clipped but not unfriendly.
“Thank you, Isaac,” he says, his voice tight but sincere.
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him, Keaton.”
Jackson returns to my side, his shoulder brushing mine. His father’s gaze narrows in on it before something resembling a smile slowly appears on his face. It’s maybe nothappy, but…accepting, I think. Whatever it is, it’s a strange sight.
“I’m going to go speak to the sheriff,” he says, his eyes that are still filled with concern landing on Jackson. “Let me know if you need me.”
When he starts to turn away, Jackson says, “Dad?”
Keaton peers back.
“I’ll always need you.”
Keaton’s lips part before he takes a long, deep breath, emotion swimming in his eyes. He nods and turns away again.
I move to face Jackson, opening the blanket that’s still around my shoulders and inviting him in. He steps into my space, and I put my arms around him, closing the blanket around us both and trapping us in a cocoon of our body heat. I place a kiss against his temple as I hold him against me.
With my lips still against his skin, I say, “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
“You shouldn’t be,” he whispers. “I got you hurt.”
I lean back to peer into his face, but his eyes stay cast down.
