Til The Dawn [Midnights #1] ✓

chapter 40

Scott stood on Jackson's doorstep, his hands firmly in his pockets as he peered around nervously, looking out at the neighborhood he'd only been in a handful of times in his life. And even though he'd only lived a few streets over for most of it, nothing had changed the wholly unsettling experience for him.

In fact, it was so ingrained in Scott's psyche that he didn't belong in a place like this, when he did finally take his hand out to knock, it hung in the air, hovering in front of the door like he might be unsure of the simple action.

Thankfully, graciously, Scott wasn't sure which, he noticed Isaac Lahey standing on his own porch next door giving him a strange look. He rushed to offer a wave and a smile, but Isaac only managed to return the clumsy greeting before he scrambled back inside his own home.

As Scott turned back to Jackson's door, he noticed it was open and Jackson was waiting for him to say something. Literally anything.

"Hey, McCall," he finally remarked slowly. "Come on in, man."

"Uh, hey, Jackson. Thanks. Sorry."

For Scott, it was a knee-jerk reaction to apologize, but in moments like these, if pressed, he wouldn't have even been able to explain what it was that he'd been apologizing for in the first place.

He stepped over the threshold, instantly assaulted by the smell of the best home-cooked meal Scott would probably ever have, and followed Jackson toward the source without hesitation.

"My Mom set out snacks," Jackson said, motioning to the large spread near the coffee table where he'd set up all the playbooks already, "and I've got all the team stuff we need."

"Uh, that's nice of her," Scott responded lamely, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Is... is she here? So I can thank her?"

Even now, with his own Mom nowhere to be seen, Scott knew if he didn't extend his gratitude she'd likely murder him for his rudeness. Melissa McCall wasn't someone who tolerated being impolite, least of all from her own son.

"Nah," Jackson admitted, looking back at Scott over his shoulder. "Her and my Dad went to, uh... a fundraiser, I think. They left already. But it'll be nice 'cause we'll have plenty of time to ourselves to figure out this whole co-captain thing."

"Just the two of us?" Scott questioned, taking in the sheer amount of food stationed on the bartop leading into the living room. "I mean, it's cool if you wanted to invite Danny or somebody over. I don't mind."

"Uh, no. Sorry. That's just my Mom. She goes overboard a lot. She'd rather have too much than run out." Scott nodded, like he could remotely comprehend the way Jackson and his family lived. "Grab a plate, man," he commanded. "We can talk and eat at the same time."

Unable to resist any more, Scott rushed over and picked up a plate, expecting them to be paper and realizing quickly they're china. And the fancy china, like the kind his Mom had locked away in their attic. Sure, he was completely and totally out of his comfort zone being around all the decadence, but Scott was hungry.

Between the Italian sub and cheese fries, Scott noticed he'd filled his plate well before he'd had a chance to really hit the tip of the iceberg in front of him.

"Your Mom considers this 'snacks', dude? What are dinners like around here?" Scott wondered out loud, seemingly incapable of not inserting his foot directly into his mouth.

Jackson chuckled, grabbing his own plate and loading it up as well. "You, uh, didn't want to try the cheesecake?"

Scott peered down at the spread in the direction Jackson was pointing, realizing the dessert had a silver pie server wedged underneath the first slice. His brows furrowed, trying to discern if Jackson was being intentional with his choice of silverware, or if it had been coincidental.