If I weren’t embarrassed to do it, I’d hug him right now. Because nobody but him has asked how I’m doing. Not one person since my mom died. They ask if I’m okay or if I need anything, but they don’t ask how I’m doing. And they don’t act like they care.
Jackson cares. I can feel it in the way he asked and the way he’s looking at me.
“It sucks,” I say, a lump forming in my throat. “And it hurts. It hurts like hell.” I take a breath. “Honestly? I’m not doing well.”
He reaches over and takes my hand. “That’s what I thought.”
“You did?” I ask, my eyes lifting to his.
“I know we just met but I get the feeling we’re a lot alike.”
“How are we alike?” I ask.
“The way we deal with pain. The way we cover it up with anger.”
“I don’t do that. I—”
“You do.” He rubs my hand. “And there’s nothing wrong with that, at least in the short term to get through it. But as time goes on, you gotta deal with that shit. Otherwise it never goes away.”
“But Iamangry. I’m not using it to cover up how I really feel. I’m angry about everything that’s happened.”
“And hurting. Because you lost her.”
I look down. “Why do you care? You barely know me.”
“I know you well enough to know you’re not okay. And that you’re afraid to talk about it. Afraid people will think you’re not tough if you do.”
I don’t respond. I wasn’t expecting this conversation, especially during our driving lesson.
He lifts my chin up and looks at me. “If you ever want to talk. Scream. Throw things. I’m just a few houses away.”
I nod.
“I mean it, Rumor. I know we just met but I want to be more than your Driver’s Ed instructor.”
I smile. “You’re a really good instructor.”
“I’m a good listener too.” He lightly squeezes my hand. “Just consider it, okay?”
Searching his face, I see genuine concern. Concern no one else has shown for me, not even Axl.
As Jackson takes his hand from mine and sits back, I lunge forward and hug him.
“Thanks,” I whisper, a tear falling from my eye.
His big, strong arms wrap completely around me, and it’s the first time since I got here that I feel safe. Cared for. Like I matter.
“Hey.” He pulls back, his eyes on mine. “I meant what I said. You ever want to talk? Or just not be alone? Come down to my house.” He smiles. “I’ll even let you come in the back.” He stands up. “Let’s finish up.”
We leave, and I practice driving for an hour before returning to his house.
“You’re doing really good,” he says as we go inside. “We’ll try the freeway next time. If you do good on that you might be ready for your test.”
I sigh. “I can’t take it.”
“Why not?”
“The website said you have to show proof of Driver’s Ed class.”
