Jackson scoffs and turns around to face me. Morning breath be damned, apparently. “Sold it. Yeah, right. They stole it from him.”
“What?”
“I know it sounds crazy, and I don’t have the full story, but I am more sure than I’ve been of anything in my life that Clancy didn’t want to sell.”
“Then why did he?”
“Like I said, I don’t know the details.”
“He hasn’t told you?”
“He hasn’t told anyone. Which is very unlike him to be keeping a secret, especially one this big. That’s why we suspect the Duporths did something ultra shady to take it from him.”
“Like blackmail?”
Jackson frowns. “Maybe? Whatever it was, it had to be big for Clancy to give up something that belonged to our family for generations.”
I slide my fingers across the slope of his shoulder blade. “Is that why you’ve held a vendetta against every single new owner?”
“Partly, yes. I’m also, as you may have noticed, kind of moody.”
I grin. “Kind of?”
He grins back, and it takes my lungs a moment to remember how to operate. Seeing him like this, unguarded, vulnerable,honest, convinces me that we could work together.
Surely he must feel it too?
I take in the sprinkle of freckles that line his nose and cheeks, committing each and every one to memory. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What difference would it have made?”
“Maybe none. But it does feel kind of pertinent. Might have been useful to know. Might have helped me understand your passion extends past the horses and to the place itself. Why your cabin means so much to you. Why you reacted the way you did when I told you you had to move out.”
“About that…”
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“When? Have I not been fucking your brains out for hours and hours and hours?”
He smiles, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “You have. Believe me. I’ll be feeling it for days.”
“I’m going to take that as a compliment, even though I’m still going to look after you this morning.”
“That’s really not necessary,” he says with absolutely no conviction. He traces his fingers along my collarbone, his eyes following the movement like it’s the only thing in the universe. “You said my cabin needs to be demolished within thirty days. Can I stay in it until then?” he asks, his voice small.
My jaw firms. “It’s not me saying you have to leave. The structure isn’t safe.”
“I know. I’ll take the risk. It’s on me. I just need some time to accept it. To say goodbye.Please?”
Now that it’s been confirmed the building isn’t structurally sound, I don’t want him in there one second longer than he needs to be. But that cabin has been around for decades. It’s highly unlikely anything is going to happen to it in the next month. And knowing what I do about his family’s history withthat place, it would be borderline cruel to throw him out of his home so abruptly.
“Fine,” I agree. “But if we get a strong storm or an earthquake, you are out of there. Immediately.”
He rolls his eyes but nods. “Sure. But earthquakes? Drama queen much? This isn’t LA.”
He’s right. The wine region does experience minor earthquakes, but because it sits on smaller fault lines than places further south, they’re less frequent and tend to be less severe. Still, it’s not out of the realm of possibility, so I amnota drama queen.
