CHAPTER 9
The following day, Reagan spent the morning preparing herself to meet Jackson’s father. She was far more nervous than she wanted to be and didn’t even understand why. Her meager experience with this type of situation was creating a flood of emotions and thoughts. What if he thinks I’m weird? What if he’s expecting someone . . . not like me? Reagan drove herself to near madness before finally getting dressed to leave. She fixed her hair, put on her coat, clutched her purse, then headed out the door.
She didn’t have far to drive to get there. About twelve blocks and three stoplights later, she rolled into the cul-de-sac at the end of Cherry Street. Jackson wasn’t kidding. His house was the only brick home around. It was a ranch-style abode, with beautiful shutters. Two leafless m
