Chapter Thirteen - The Long Way Home

Home time had always been Jackson's favourite part of the day.

There was something comforting about the slow unraveling of the afternoon—when the final school bell rang and the day's chaos spilled out onto the street in waves of chatter and footfalls. As the golden haze of late summer gave way to the cool breath of early fall, St. Phillips Academy looked like it belonged in a painting: maple leaves spiraled lazily from their branches, blanketing the sidewalks in gold and rust, while a breeze carried the earthy scent of change.

Jackson lingered across the street in the small park nestled between rows of brick townhouses and rusted swings. He stood beneath a tree, half-shrouded in shadow, hands stuffed into the front pocket of his hoodie, watching the flood of students pour out through the school gates. Parents leaned on their horns in bumper-to-bumper queues, yellow buses hissed to a stop, and groups of kids trudged toward home, their backpacks slung low and conversations buzzing.

He should've been one of them.

Usually, someone from home came to get him. But not today. Today, he needed air—freedom from Harper's incessant voice blaring about cheerleader drama for the seven hundredth time. He needed a moment of stillness.

Jackson brought the cigarette to his lips one last time, letting the smoke curl around his face before flicking it to the pavement and grinding it underfoot. Not exactly a habit his age should endorse—but Jackson had never really cared about "should." He'd spent years around older guys who praised rebellion and lived like consequences were optional. That kind of validation was addictive.

He stepped into the sidewalk's flow of students, drifting through the crowd at his own pace. His gait was steady but relaxed, like he had all the time in the world.

Then he saw her.

Ashley.

The blind girl.

She moved up the sidewalk with quiet confidence, white cane tapping gently against the concrete. Even without seeing her face, Jackson could tell it was her. There was a calmness in the way she held herself, a steadiness in her steps that made her stand out.

His pulse jumped. He froze for half a second, torn between disappearing into the crowd or doing something completely un-Jackson-like.

"Hey, Ashley—" His voice cracked slightly. "I don't know if you remember me... I'm Jackson. We met a while ago. With your dog."

She paused, tilting her head toward the voice. Then she smiled.

"Oh! Jackson! Hi!" Her grin was immediate, genuine. "Of course I remember you. How are you? How was your Halloween?"

Jackson blinked, caught off guard by her warmth. "It was... yeah, good. Yours?"

"Really good, thanks. Oh—and no Felix today!" She lifted her cane with a laugh. "He's at the groomer's. I'm flying solo."

"Felix.." Jackson repeated, remembering the golden retriever who had nudged into his side that day. "Right. So now it's just you and the stick."

Ashley chuckled. "Just for today. I'm actually headed to pick him up now... you wanna come?"

He didn't even hesitate. "Sure. Yeah, I'll come."

They walked side by side through the fading afternoon, the chatter of the street fading behind them. To Jackson's surprise, talking to Ashley felt easy. Natural. She didn't ask weird questions, didn't pity him, didn't try to fix him. She just... talked. Listened. Laughed at his dry jokes and gave some right back.

By the time they reached the groomer's, the sun was sinking. When Felix was finally returned to them—a blur of golden fur and excited whimpers—the dog almost knocked Jackson over with affection.

"He missed you." Ashley teased as she replaced her cane with Felix's harness.

"I think I missed him too." Jackson replied, brushing dog hair off his jeans.

Back at her front stoop, she fished out her phone out of her coat pocket and handed it to him.

"Put your number in." she said simply. "That way we can text and stuff. If that's okay?"

He stared at her for a second, then grinned. "Yeah. Totally."

He typed it in, handed the phone back, and they exchanged one last smile.

 "We should... do something again sometime."

"Absolutely. I'll call you later, okay? Thanks for coming with me."

She disappeared inside, and Jackson checked the time.

5:40 PM.

School had ended at 3:30.

It had been a two-hour detour—one he didn't regret in the slightest.

When Jackson stepped through the Baldwin front door, the familiar chaos of home hit him like a wave.

Aura and Harper were tangled in blankets on the living room couch, watching a movie and laughing too hard at something dumb. The coffee table was buried in popcorn bowls and soda cans. Harper turned the second he walked in.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up." she sing-songed. "We were about to call the FBI. Mom's been freaking."

"I just took the long way." Jackson muttered, tossing his bag down and heading upstairs.

When he came back down, changed into joggers and an oversized hoodie, Mariah was pulling bubbling lasagna from the oven, the scent of garlic and melted cheese wrapping around the kitchen like a warm blanket.

"There you are, Jax." Camila said without looking up from her phone. "Your teacher emailed. Again. Skipping classes?"

Jackson sighed and slid into a chair beside Cody.

"We talked about this." Camila went on, slicing the lasagna with unnecessary force. "If I get one more call, you're getting homeschooled or something. Harriet's working her butt off to get into university and you're skipping?"

Aura snorted behind her Coke. Harper rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah." Jackson mumbled, reaching for the bread basket.

Then his phone buzzed.

He glanced down. Unknown number. One new message.

Ashley.

He couldn't help the grin that curved his lips.

Harper caught it instantly. "Who are you texting?"

"No one."

"Liar. You're smiling like a weirdo."

"It's just one of the guys." he said too quickly. "Sent me a meme."

"Which guy?" Harper narrowed her eyes like a predator.

"Mind your business."

She lunged. "Ashley?! Who's Ashley?! Jackson's texting a girl named Ashley!"

Jackson scrambled up, but Harper had already dashed into the hallway, waving his phone over her head like a trophy.

"Mom! Dad! Jackson's texting a girl! Her name's Ashley!"

"Harper!" he yelled, chasing her.

Their father's voice boomed from the dining room. "Enough! Sit. Down. Both of you. Jackson, no phones at the table."

Harper returned to her chair, smug. Jackson followed, defeated.

Aura slid him a piece of garlic bread like a peace offering. "So... who's Ashley?"

Jackson didn't look up. "Just someone I ran into. We hung out. No big deal."

Harper smirked. "Do you like her?"

He hesitated. "I don't even know her yet."

Aura tilted her head. "But is she pretty?"

A pause. Then a quiet, undeniable smile.

"...Yeah."