“No, you idiot. For legal advice. I have to pick Sammy up from his playdate. Call Ollie now!”
And with that, he storms out.
I slink my sorry ass from his house back to mine. Well, back to my grandparents’ place, flopping onto their decidedly unfloppable couch, regretting it the second a searing pain shoots up my lower back.
“Stupid fucking couch,” I mutter as I call my twenty-four-hour support line. It goes straight to voicemail. How dare Ollie have a career.
With my lower back spasming, I go into the kitchen to microwave a heat pack. As I wait for it to warm up, I snatch a bunch of old letters lying on the counter. They were in one of Grandpa Rick’s boxes. Come to think of it, most of them have been. It’s sweet that he may have been the romantic one of the pair.
I haven’t gotten around to reading them yet, but since I’m in dire need of some cheering up, it might be nice to be reminded that true old-fashioned love did exist at one point in human history.
Heat pack and stacks of letters in tow, I head to my bedroom, where the mattress I took from my apartment in the city isdecidedly more flop-friendly. I wedge the heat pack into the small of my lower back, pluck a letter from the pile, and start reading.
Right away, something feels off. The letter is addressed toMy Dearest Rick,but it’s not in Grandma’s distinctive loopy cursive, which I know of only because Grandpa Rick kept the very first note she ever wrote him stuck on the refrigerator.
I flip the page and almost choke in shock when I see the signature.
Yours forever,
Clancy
I get around to calling Ollie a few hours later. As expected, he blows his top when I tell him about what happened with Jackson.
“So what should I do?” I ask.
“If I were you, the first thing I’d do is clear upin writingthat his role at the sanctuary remains his if he wants it and that you’re open to discussing how the effects of his vision loss can be managed most effectively.”
“Okay. I’ll email him tonight.”
“Good. Feel free to send me a draft so I can fine-tune it if necessary.”
“Thanks. I will.” I take a sip of water. “That takes care of the professional side of things. What about the personal?”
Ollie huffs out a sigh. “Look, I’ll be honest. I’m not Jackson’s number one fan. I think he’s treated you pretty badly,butnow that we know what he’s been going through, while it doesn’t excuse it, it does make a lot more sense.”
“And? What should I do?”
“You’re a grown man—I can’t answer that for you. But what I have observed is you being totally gaga over this guy for months. And maybe the fact that he comes from a world completely different to the one you and I grew up in could actually be a good thing.”
“He doesn’t suck up to me at all, and he’s not the least bit motivated by money or power.”
“Also good things.”
“But he lied to me, Ollie. We made a deal. He agreed to the deal. He had my trust, and then he broke it.”
“I get that.”
“Shit. Sorry. Here I am going on about my own shit as usual. What’s the latest with Derek?”
“We’re having dinner Friday night.”
“You are.”
“It doesn’t mean we’re getting back together or anything. But he wants to talk, so I’ll hear him out and take it from there.”
“Fair enough.”
“You took Luca back, right?”
