Going Nowhere

Chapter 3 - Jackson Dick-Hansen

"Come on now, son," Dad said calmly. "Up you go."

Jackson whined a little when Dad pulled him off the ground, and I smirked.

I'd whined plenty the night of my senior prom. At first, because I felt sorry for Jack who had come down with a severe case of the flu, sounding completely miserable.

By the end of the evening, the whining had been for other reasons.

Jackson Vik-Hansen had been the one all the girls chased after, and when he asked me to be his date I played it very, very cool... but squealed like an idiot on the inside. I'd looked forward to walking into the gymnasium with my hand in the crook of his arm.

Was that shallow? Hell, yes, it was. I'd known it already back then and hadn't cared one bit because I'd never been cheerleader-in-the-movies kind of popular, so it had felt sweet to be asked by someone like Jackson.

Elsa, Joel and I were mostly ignored back in High School, although not in an unfriendly mean-girls-from-the-movies way. Between us, we mostly knew everyone, and we'd been treated with a fair deal of respect, but it had always seemed as if everyone kept their distance. Of course, my dad was Sheriff Brown, Joel was a widget and Elsa... well, let's just say that unicorns knew way too many secrets.

My prom night from hell probably hurt more than it should have because in addition to the shallow pleasure I felt when Jackson asked me, I'd also liked him. Not liked him as in sappy-loved him 'til the end of time. But he'd been cool, and we'd laughed a lot, so I'd... liked him. A lot.

"Are you okay, Jackson?" I asked in a voice full of fake concern.

"Uhnff," he grunted, and his knees buckled when Dad let go of him, but he managed to remain standing by grabbing hold of the porch rail.

"I'm so sorry," I went on. "You know I have a tic."

"Tic?" Grandpa asked.

"Yeah," I said and turned to grin at him. "My knee just starts bouncing when I'm too close to an asshole."

"Language," Janie snapped.

"Sorry," I said and did not mean it. "I meant when I'm too close to a lying moron."

"What is wrong with you?" Jackson asked hoarsely. "Wasn't what you did back then enough?"

No. It wasn't, not by a long shot.

"Kitty," Dad murmured, but I kept my gaze on Jack.

"She did some witchy crap that put pimples all over my as -" Jackson clamped his jaws together and amended his statement with a glance at Janie. "Sorry, Ma'am. Pimples all over my behind."

"They disappeared as soon as you cleared the county limits, didn't they?" I snapped.

We glared at each other, and the happy twinkle that had been in his eyes when he walked around the corner of the house was replaced with a steely look that I'd never seen before and didn't like. Then he moved one of his legs a little, let go of the porch rail and winced.

Maybe kneeing him twice had been overkill?

"Right," Dad said. "Jackson. I'm sure you want to check on things. You know where the bathroom is. Yell if you need an ice-pack."

"He can use my skivvies," Grandpa offered cordially, and waved his hand to indicate the boxer briefs that were back on his head. "They're nice and warm."

Jackson turned his head slowly to look at him, and the steely look faded away from his eyes.

"Thanks, Hunter, but there's no need."