Pulling away from the curb, Brianna considered his words for a moment. “Well, it was a little rough on all of us when my side of the family first got together with the Cavanaughs who were already living in Aurora. At that point, I would have agreed with you.”
“Wait. Back up.”
She froze, hitting the brake and looking around. “Did I hit something?”
“No,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean that literally. You weren’t part of the original group?”
Foot back on the accelerator, Brianna shook her head while she drove out of the development. “Nope. We didn’t know anything about Shamus’s branch of the family. Why do you look so surprised?”
After spending just a little while with them, he would have been hard-pressed to pick out who was part of the old guard and who belonged to the new wave that had been introduced to that old guard.
“I guess I’m just not used to a family blending so well,” he admitted.
She knew he was thinking about his own family. Granted, she hadn’t had time to look into his background, partly because she was hoping that he would volunteer the information himself—Del Campo hadn’t had any time to come through yet, either—but she had the feeling that there hadn’t been much blending or happy moments in Jackson’s childhood.
“I think blending is mandatory if you’re a Cavanaugh or related to one,” she joked. “All kidding aside, you seemed like you had a nice time today.”
He didn’t want to admit to something that might wind up opening a can of worms for him down the line. “I’ve had worse.”
“Oh, please, don’t lay it on so thick,” Brianna pleaded melodramatically, placing one wrist against her forehead like a silent movie heroine as she waited for the light to turn green.
Jackson decided to switch the direction of the conversation. “I had a long talk with your mother.”
Maeve Cavanaugh O’Bannon was a strong-willed woman who spoke her mind and had always gone after whatever she wanted. Hearing that her mother had cornered Jackson made Brianna cringe.
“Oh, Lord,” she groaned, thinking of what she’d overheard when she extricated Jackson from her brothers. “More tales about how much grief I gave her when I was growing up? She exaggerates, you know. So do my brothers.”
Jackson laughed quietly. The sound captivated her. “No,” he told her, “no tales of grief. Although she did say she was a little disappointed that none of her kids had gone on to become ambulance drivers, but she’s proud of all of you. She also mentioned how rough all of you had it when your dad was killed in the line of duty.” He turned to look at Brianna. There was no mistaking the respect, or the wistfulness, in his voice. “She’s a pretty remarkable woman, your mother.”
“I always thought so,” Brianna said with sincerity. “I tried to tell her that once, but Mom just said it was no big deal. That she was only doing what every mother was supposed to do, providing for her kids and taking care of them.”
“Not every mother,” Jackson contradicted quietly. “That’s not as common as your mother might think.”
Bits and pieces began to come together for Brianna. She felt just awful for what Jackson must have gone through in order to think this way. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to open up any old wounds.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about,” he told her, his voice devoid of emotion as walls that had temporarily slipped down went back into place. “You didn’t cause any of the wounds.”
She knew that faced with this awkward situation, some people would just change the subject, hoping that the subject would fade away. But she was her mother’s daughter and had always forged ahead where angels feared to go. Now was no exception.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“What makes you think I would want to talk about it?” That was the last thing he wanted to do.
Brianna was catching every light. At this rate, she’d have him at his apartment in a couple more minutes. She really wanted to get this positively resolved before then.
“Well, keeping it all bottled up inside will eventually lead to an explosion, and those usually happen at the worst possible times, not to mention that they’re messy. But if you talk about it,” she coaxed, “it has less power over you.”
Jackson blew out a breath. He didn’t want to lose his temper, but he wasn’t in the mood to put up with what he viewed as psychobabble.
“Do you have this secret desire to be a psychiatrist?” he demanded, hoping that would be the end of it.
“No, I have a secret desire to see the people I work with happy,” she answered.
She had reached Jackson’s apartment complex and parked in the closest guest spot she could find. Despite the close proximity to his front door, Jackson just assumed that the woman who obviously thought she knew what was best for him would remain in the vehicle when he got out.
But she didn’t.
Brianna got out of the car when he did. This wasn’t over. He sighed. He was having trouble tamping down his temper. He was also having trouble with another emotion Brianna had quite inadvertently managed to stoke—which was why he wanted to call it a night.
“You know what’ll make me happy?” he asked.
“Does it involve my washing out your mouth with soap after you say it?” she asked archly.
Caught off guard, he stared at her. “What? No.” And then, mentally throwing up his hands, he laughed, shaking his head. “I was going to say figuring out who killed those women and how they were sealed into the hotel walls without anyone noticing.”
She knew a blatant hint when she heard it. Obligingly, Brianna dropped the subject of his mother. She’d made enough headway for one day, she told herself. She’d got a remote Jackson to come to a family gathering, and surprisingly enough, he hadn’t complained all day.
She’d said
