Leah spoke up before he got a chance, her voice carefully neutral. "I'm leaving town right after the reunion."
"Mom." The single word sounded more like a threat, but both women at the table ignored him.
"Your poor mother," Mom went on. "All of her children have abandoned her. I'm so glad that didn't happen to me."
"Mom. Stop." He smacked his open hand on the table. She loved to do this whole concerned but still evil thing with him and Jess, he wasn't about to let her do it with Leah. "Stop it right now."
"No, it's the truth," she said, her body practically vibrating with the same twisted righteousness she'd had back in her drinking days when she'd lecture him and Jess about the importance of always presenting the perfect family picture. "You're always here doing what needs to be done for family."
Yeah, and didn't he just love every soul-sucking moment of it. And when the call came for the job in Fort Worth, would she just give in and drop back into the bottle? Guilt ate away at him with all the delicacy of a long horn steer tearing through a glass shop.
"And what about what's best for him?" Leah asked, her voice soft but with a strident undertone.
That made both him and his mom stop. Best for him? That was usually the last thing on the long list of keeping the family together that he'd had since his mom brought Jess home as a baby and then proceeded to celebrate the birth of her second child by getting quietly drunk on vodka mixed in with her sweet tea while his dad continued his affair with his secretary. Taking care of the family had always been Drew’s first priority, one that had spilled over into the rest of his life where he'd chosen to go into public safety. His brain didn't work any other way.
"Well," his mother said, reaching for her wine goblet of water with a shaky hand. "What's best for family is best for everyone in that family, don't you think?"
Ten minutes later and finally out of the house he’d grown up in, Drew couldn't shake the question as he drummed his fingers against his truck's steering wheel and waited for the stoplight to turn. For her part, Leah was quiet, staring out the window at the people eating at one of the outdoor restaurants on Main Street. He'd opened his mouth at least half a dozen times since they left his parents' house but no words came out—probably because he had no idea what they should be. However, the silence screaming in the truck wasn't it though.
"I'm sorry about my mom," he said, pulling away from the intersection and turning left toward his house.
"Why?" Leah asked. "That's how your mom has always been, drunk or sober."
His jaw dropped. "You knew?"
She snorted and shook her head. "You think you're the only one who Jess called for a Dr. Pepper moment?"
Dr. Pepper had been his and Jess's code for help for as long as he could remember—usually called out because of their mom's obsession with perfection or their dad's casual indifference.
"I thought you and Jess stopped being friends in high school."
"We did but there was history between us." Leah let out a harsh breath. "Isn't that always the case when it comes to the Jackson family and doesn't it always come to bite me in the ass?”
Yeah. He wasn't going to touch that last part right now. "What happened with you and Jess?"
She shrugged. "Just high school girl things."
If that was the case, he didn't see how it would still bother her this much ten years later. "Just spit it out."
Leah chewed on her bottom lip and continued looking out the window at the passing businesses, her shoulders hunched and her arms stationed protectively in front of her stomach. Figuring she was just going to ignore the question, he lapsed back into silence as he turned toward a more residential section of town.
"We'd drifted apart our first year in high school," Leah said, keeping her gaze turned away from him. "Jess fit in perfectly with the popular cheerleader set. I did not. It was awkward, but not horrible, even if I didn't know what I'd done wrong to lose her as a friend. Then, one night our freshman year after she had a big fight with your mom, she called me. We met up at the park by my old house and talked for hours about everything. It was like we'd never stopped being friends. I thought everything would go back to how it was." She paused and drew in an unsteady breath. "I couldn't have been more wrong. The next day at school I made the mistake of saying hi to Jess when she was with some of her new friends. She didn't just snub me, she gave me this look like I wasn't even good enough to be the dirt on her shoe. Then, she asked her friends if they heard the ghost of a total loser talking. They walked of
f laughing while I stood there like she'd punched me right in the gut. After that, it was war. We were both guilty of firing shots. Sugar in a car tail pipe. Nasty gossip scrawled on the bathroom walls. Clothes going missing from gym lockers. Rumors. Innuendo. General assholery."
"What happened after that?" He didn't know shit about being a teenage girl, but that sounds like just the sort of thing that would have wrecked Jess if it had happened to her.
Leah's chin went up another few degrees. "We graduated and I left this town for good, or so I thought."
Yeah, right up until the summer after she'd gotten her master's degree and there he was all ready to bang her and leave as soon as he'd gotten that call from the Fort Worth PD. If it hadn't been for her encouraging him to see beyond his family's demands back then, he may have just toed the family line and followed his dad into the corporate world where he screwed people over for a living. And how had he repaid her? By leaving her in his rearview mirror without even a goodbye kiss. He'd been young but that was no excuse for being that big of a dick.
"I'm sorry."
She twisted in her seat, one eyebrow up. "For what?"
"For being one in a long line of Jacksons to fuck you over." He turned onto his street, determined to make sure it wouldn't happen again. "Look, don't ditch me again. You could really get hurt."
"I won't." Her arms tightened around her middle even as she got that look in her eye that only meant trouble. "But I'm not sitting by idly, either."