“That was before your story was shit!” Cole said, raising his voice. “Yeah, sure, the story was an exclusive about what really happened with that car accident and the women, but the real story was about what you were doing about all of that.”
“Ah, Jesus, don’t make it weird,” Jackson said, setting his beer on the coffee table and plunging his hands into his hair.
“Cole’s right,” Penelope said as she came back into the living room. “The story wasn’t the scandal or your injury. It was what you were doing to come back.”
He lifted his head and glared at her.
She shrugged, not looking particularly apologetic. “I idolized you once, Jackson. Hell, I defended you to Cole here even before I met you. But the story I wanted to tell was about you becoming a new man. Not a shadow of the man you used to be.”
Penelope’s quietly uttered words rocked through him. A shadow of the man you used to be. Was that what she thought he was doing? Was that what they all thought? That he was settling for being some washed-up has-been?
An even more alarming thought was quick to follow: were they right?
Cole set his beer aside and stood, going to take the packed duffle back from Penelope and slinging it over his shoulder. “How the heck is a bag this full so light?”
Penelope shrugged. “It’s mostly Mollie’s bras and panties.”
Cole winced. “Didn’t need to know.”
Jackson barely heard any of this. He was too busy trying to figure out how he felt about the fact that Oxford was dropping him as its cover story.
He shouldn’t care. Hell, he hadn’t even been sure he wanted to do that story in the first place. And there would be dozens of other media sources that would be salivating over getting an exclusive.
But Penelope’s words were on repeat in his head. The story I wanted to tell was about you becoming a new man. Not a shadow of the man you used to be.
Penelope and Cole headed to the door, and Jackson frowned as he stood. “You’re leaving?”
“No offense, man, but you’re shit for company,” Cole said.
“Maybe because you came storming over uninvited and started lecturing me on how to live my life.”
Cole shrugged. “Yeah, that could be it.” He reached for the doorknob, then turned back and looked at Jackson. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not pissed, but once I get over that—”
“That’ll take about an hour,” Penelope interrupted.
He smiled and kissed her head. “Once I’m over it, call me if you want to talk. Or drink. Or just sit in manly silence and brood.”
Jackson swallowed hard and gave a quick nod. “Thanks, man.”
Cole nodded once in response and stepped out into the hall as Penelope rolled her eyes. “Men. But yes, seriously. Do let us know if you need anything. Just because Mollie’s staying with Riley doesn’t make you any less our friend. It’s like Cole said. You’re one of us now.”
Jackson couldn’t think of a damn thing to say to that, so he just stood there as Penelope gave a friendly wave and followed Cole into the hallway.
Just before the door closed, she stuck her head back in. “Oh, and Jackson?”
“Yeah.”
She grinned. “You’re gonna miss us when you’re gone.”
Chapter 31
A week after Cole and Penelope stopped by—a week after he’d all but ripped out Mollie Carrington’s heart, and his own in the process—Jackson stepped off a plane into the Houston airport. He exhaled long and slow, waiting for the sense of arrival, the sense of home.
It didn’t come.
Of course, he wasn’t here to stay, not yet. He still had to finish things up in New York. Had an apartment to sell. Wanted to give Cassidy a chance to find his replacement.
No, this trip was half house-hunting mission, half job negotiations. Not that Jackson gave a shit what he got paid. Hell, he’d pay them just to be a part of the team again. But Jerry had wanted him to come down to sign the paperwork, make everything official. So here he was. In Texas.
Again he waited.
Nope—still not the expected sense of rightness.
Shit. Penelope was right. Already he did miss his New York friends.
Pushing away the creep of doubt, Jackson began making his way through the hordes of travelers. God, he hated airports. That was all this was, he decided: annoyance with air travel. At least he could skip baggage claim; since he was here just for the weekend, he was making do with a small carry-on.
Jackson had just passed through the security gate when he saw her. He skidded to a halt, his blood running ice cold. Fury quickly followed.
Madison.
Very slowly, as though walking through mud, he made his way over to his ex-wife. She was wearing a demure white dress and knee-high brown riding boots, her hair pulled into a high ponytail.
“Hi,” she said with a shy smile.
He didn’t move. Not when she lifted on her toes to kiss his cheek, even though the familiar scent of her perfume made him want to sprint back in the other direction, TSA rules be damned.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
She adjusted her purse on her shoulder. “Don’t be obtuse. I came to meet you, obviously. Figured I could give you a ride.”
“How’d you know what flight I was coming in on?”