“Thank you, Grace.”

I almost replied, always and always, but I wasn’t in the position to tell Autumn a lie.

* * *

“Mama, did you say something to Jackson today?” I asked her, walking into her living room.

“It’s good to see you too, Gracelyn Mae. I’m glad to see you still remember where your family lives. If only you could recall where the church is, then we’d be fine,” she sarcastically remarked.

“Mama. Did you talk to Jackson?”

“Grace—”

“Tell me the truth.” Her bottom lip quivered. My heart dropped. “Mama, how could you?”

“Look at you, Gracelyn Mae. You aren’t yourself,” she said, gesturing toward me.

“I wish people would stop saying that.”

“It’s true. You’re not yourself, and you haven’t been for a long time. I spoke to him because I love you. I’m all about you finding yourself, but Jackson Emery isn’t the way you make that discovery.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me. You don’t get to run my life, but now, Jackson won’t even talk to me. What did you say to him?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Mama. Tell me.”

But she wouldn’t. Her lips wouldn’t part, but her truth wouldn’t spill out from her tongue. I couldn’t even imagine what she could’ve told him to make him that way, to make him so cold after a summer of melting beside me. “I’m done. I’m done with this town, with this lifestyle, and with you, Mama. All my life, all I’ve ever done was try to make you proud, and the one time I choose myself over you is when you turn your back on me. All while claiming you love me. That’s not love, Mama. That’s manipulation, and my mind is no longer yours to control.”

“Gra—”

“I don’t want to see you again.”

“You don’t mean that,” she warned. “I am your mother.”

“No. You’re just the woman who gave birth to me. You are no mother of mine.”

I turned and walked away, feeling more alone with every step I took. When I got to Judy’s house, I began to pack my bags. There was nothing left for me in Chester, Georgia, anymore, and I’d rent a car and be out of there before I could blink my eyes shut.

“Grace?” Judy said, walking into my bedroom. “What’s going on? I just got a frantic call from Mama. Are you okay?”

“I’m leaving.”

“What? Why? What’s going on?” Her voice was so alarmed as she walked to my side. “Talk to me.”

“I can’t. I just have to go. I’m going to rent a car and drive back to Atlanta and get a rental place for a week before I move into my place. I just can’t…” I took a deep breath. “I can’t breathe here.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “I’m coming with you. I’ll drive.”

“What? No. Judy, you don’t have to do this. I can go on my own.”

“I know you can, but you’re not going to. I’m driving.” She wouldn’t let me argue with her, and before I knew it, my suitcases were packed into the back of her car.

We drove down the streets of Chester, and we paused at the stop sign right near Mike’s Auto Shop. I could see Jackson hammering out on the broken-down car around the building, hitting it repeatedly. When he looked up, my heart skipped.

Judy turned my way. “Do you want to say goodbye?” she asked.

“No,” I told her because even though my mom told him something, it was on Jackson that he chose to turn cold. He was allowed to make a choice, just like all humans were allowed to do. Our choices defined us. We could go left or right. We could say yes or no. We could hold on, or we could let go. Jackson chose to let go, and in response to that, I let him go, too.

He and I were a summer of lust. We were a summer of finding ourselves. Of losing ourselves. Of finding each other. Of losing each other.

Even though it was over, I had no regrets. If I could go back in time, I’d still fall into Jackson Emery because, to me, he represented possibilities. He stood for the idea that even on the dark days, one could still find light. During that summer, he became my faith, and I swore for a small moment, I was his.

In the dark, vacant trunk of Judy’s Honda sat two pieces of mismatched, tattered, and torn luggage. They each held a part of me within them. They each told a story of the woman I was and the woman I was becoming. And Jackson Emery, the man I crashed into, the man who made me remember how it felt to breathe again, watched them all drive away.

45

Jackson

She’d been gone for a few weeks, and I hadn’t stopped thinking about her. I did my best to get Grace off my mind, but she made it her mission to stay wrapped in every thought that crossed me.