That little trip down memory lane had exhausted him. Alex made a point of not looking back in his life, but he didn’t have much choice these days. There wasn’t a present in Jackson. Or a future. It was all his past and he couldn’t get away from it. The two hours they’d spent in the office with Merry going over the details hadn’t helped either. His mother had wept bitter tears when he’d insisted—eventually, in a very loud voice—that he wasn’t giving a goddamn speech about his dad. She accused him of rejecting his father and everything the man had ever done for his children. Alex had just barely managed not to counter that at least he hadn’t changed his name like some people in the family. He’d avoided reverting to childhood levels of immaturity, but just barely. He’d tried to lose his mind in work after, studying the reports for the site he’d be visiting in Alaska, but he hadn’t been able to shake the tension, so he’d washed his bike instead.
