He heard her, wondering if she was asleep and merely turning over, or if she was awake still, like him. He felt her lips on his back. He felt a gentle kiss. Jackson smiled. “I don’t hate him. I just don’t want to feel anything for him.” “Yeah. I know.” “Do you?” “Yeah. To love someone and be hurt so badly that you hate them for a while, hoping it’ll swing back to something in between—something you don’t really feel, one way or the other.” Silence. “Does it work?” “No.” Pause. “You know, it’s okay—you can ask me.” “About…?” “Barbara. Don’t you want to ask about her?” “I don’t want—” “It’s all right, really. I don’t mind. Not with you. Wait—can you scoot over a little?”
