CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
WAKING UP IN Jackson’s bed wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be. I pushed myself up just enough to get a drink of water and glanced around the dimly lit room in search of him. He was nowhere in sight. I laid back down feeling a lot better than I had the night before. Still, my body was exhausted. I thought about Jackson and how he put himself in danger—again—to take care of me. I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to make that deep, painful sadness in his chocolate eyes go away. The gentle hum of the ceiling fan lulled me back to sleep with the image of Jackson’s face still lingering in my mind.
I woke up several hours later needing to use the bathroom. Grey clouds muted the early morning sky, and the promise of rain was heavy on the breeze that came in through the open windows. I swung my feet over the bed and stepped on a leg. Startled, I jolted forward. My foot caught in a blanket and I lost my balance. I fell in slow motion, catching myself on my hands and knees. Jackson sat up, looked annoyed for a second, and then smiled.
“Are you okay?” he asked and moved over to me.
“What are you doing on the floor?” I replied and disentangled myself from his blanket. He stood and helped me to my feet.
“I didn’t think you’d want me sleeping next to you,” he confessed, looking almost embarrassed. “And I didn’t want to leave you alone. Your breathing was kinda shallow. It, uh, made me nervous. You look better now. I mean sound. Sound better now.”
A half smile formed on my face. “I feel a lot better. What was that nasty stuff you made me drink?”
Jackson smiled back at me. I hadn’t let myself acknowledge how good he looked when he smiled before. It was such a small, simple expression, and yet it changed his face so much. The heavy sadness was momentarily gone, and he looked boyish and handsome at the same time. With his dark, wavy hair and his strong jaw line, he was actually a very attractive man. It was just hard to see past the pain and the bruises that almost always covered his face.
“You don’t want to know,” he said with a smile. “It’s an old family recipe with a little bit of everything in it. My grandpa used to make it for me when I would get sick. He said it ‘burned the fever’ out of me, though I think the alcohol just made it worse.”
I bit my lip and tried to smile back at him. That was the first time he had ever mentioned anything from his past. “Well, whatever it is, it helped,” I said gratefully. “I don’t feel like I’m going to burn up from the inside anymore.”
He gently pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. “Not from the outside either.” He let his hand fall and stepped back, his eyes locked with mine. My heart did that flutter thing again. I took a step closer. “Are you hungry?” he asked, blood rushing to his cheeks.
“Yeah.” I coughed and ran my hands through my messy hair. “I haven’t felt hungry in days.”
“That’s a good sign. I’ll make breakfast,” he offered and strode to his dresser. He opened it, revealing a very small selection of neatly folded clothes. He handed me a white T-shirt and a blue pair of loose fitting exercise shorts. “I’m assuming you want to shower and change.”
I took the clothes from him and nervously eyed the attached bathroom. “I do.”
“There are towels in the cabinet under the sink. I’ll stay out until you’re done. Take your time,” he said before turning out of the room. He shut the door behind him. I heard the stairs creak as he descended them. My head was still foggy with sickness but not enough to make me leery of stripping down in Jackson’s room. What if Nate or Zane came home? Jackson was sure that they wouldn’t just yet, and I believed him.
I walked into the bathroom nonetheless. It was small and, like the rest of Jackson’s room, very neat and tidy. It was also void of paint and decorations. I turned the shower on and looked at myself in the mirror. Instantly, a small amount of embarrassment rose and caused my cheeks to flush. My hair was a ratty mess, old makeup clung to the skin around my eyes, and my nose was red with dry skin. I looked awful.
I raked my fingers through my hair while I went to the bathroom and was pleasantly surprised when I stepped into the shower. The water was warm. I stood there with my hands out, feeling the heat for several minutes. A hot shower was something I had taken for granted. It was something I knew I could always have, just a normal part of life. Having that taken away and being forced to wash my abused body in icy cold water was just another way Nate proved he had control over us. Each droplet of warm water that splashed down my skin was almost like I was taking something back.
I showered quickly and toweled off even quicker. I dressed in Jackson’s clothes and slowly cracked the door open. He hadn’t returned yet, and the bedroom door was still closed. I flipped my head upside down and rubbed at my hair, trying to dry it as much as possible before getting back into bed.
A few minutes, after I tucked the blankets around myself, Jackson opened the door carrying a very full tray of wonderful smelling food. His face lit up when his eyes met mine, and I felt a rush of something I hadn’t felt in a long time flash through my body.
“Do you like biscuits and gravy?” he asked. “I just assumed and made it. I can make you something else if you don’t like it,” he added quickly.
“I love it,” I said truthfully and lunged forward to grab a bowl. Even if I hadn’t liked it, eating something warm and fresh wasn’t something I was about to pass up. I stuck a spoonful in my mouth. “It’s delicious,” I praised. “You’re a good cook.”
Jackson sat at the foot of the bed, keeping a careful distance. I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to stay away, that I liked him being next to me. I didn’t, though. What if he didn’t like being close to me?
He raised an eyebrow incredulously. “I’ve never cooked for you before today.”
I shook my head. “You brought me barbeque chicken and mashed potatoes.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that. Still, that’s only two things.”
I ate a few more spoonfuls before speaking. “I can always smell what you make.” I tore apart the biscuit. “And it always smells good.”
Jackson shrugged off the compliment. “Thanks. I like to cook. Everyone leaves me alone when I do.”
“You know how messed up that is?” I said with my mouthful.
Jackson raised his eyebrows and sighed. “I know how messed up everything around here is.” He tipped his head down and focused on his food.
I slowly chewed my last spoonful and stared at Jackson, madly trying to think of something to say. I hated seeing him looking so dejected.
“You have a lot of books,” I commented. My eyes darted to the cardboard box of books that sat in the corner by his closet.
He nodded and waited until he was finished chewing to answer. “Nate lets me read. It keeps me quiet, I guess.” He shook his head. “Reading is a good way to escape the hell we’re in.”
“I had just gotten an email from one of my favorite authors the day I was taken.”
Suddenly, my happy thoughts shifted. I had never gotten to reply to that email. I wondered what that author thought…or what anyone who followed my blog thought. Two other people ran the blog with me. Surely by now Lori and Lindsay knew I had been taken and wasn’t blowing them off. Had they written a post about my disappearance? Maybe Lynn or my sister took it upon themselves to email them.
“You okay?” Jackson asked.
“Yeah.” I blinked back the tears. “Memories,” I said shortly and pulled my lips over my teeth.
“What do—well, did you do for fun?” he asked after a few seconds, changing the subject
“Read, but you know that,” I answered. “I liked to train my dogs. Scarlet is certified to do therapy. In the summer, we’d go to nursing homes and this school by our house for disabled children. The kids love her. We used to do agility, but she’s too old for that now. I was going to start working with Rhett over the summer.” I paused and heavily exhaled. “And I like anything that has to do with the paranormal. Lynn, my best friend, and I go ‘exploring’ anywhere remotely creepy to try and find ghosts. I like to paint too, but I’m not very good at it. I might have an unhealthy obsession with Dr. Who. And sometimes I play video games.” It felt weird to think about the activities I used to do just for fun. “Saying it all out loud makes me sound like a nerd,” I added with a small smile.
“I don’t think so. It all sounds fun,” Jackson told me. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Really. I’ve never seen one.”
“Not yet,” I said with a smile. “Jackson?”
“Yeah?” he answered.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“What’s your last name?” I asked.
He paused, like it was difficult to recall. “Porter. My turn. What’s your favorite movie?”
“Hocus Pocus.”
“I’ve never seen it.”
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I smiled. “Well, some day we will watch it together.”
“I’d like that,” he said. Our eyes met and my heart skipped a beat. I looked down at the empty bowl and yawned. “Tired?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Me too,” he said and stood. He took my bowl and empty cup and set them back on the tray. “As creepy as this makes me sound, I stayed up to listen to your breathing. For a while it really sounded like you were struggling for air.”
The small smile returned to my face. “I felt like it. I kinda still do, but I think I coughed a lot of it up in the shower.”
“Nice,” he grimaced and moved to the other side of the bed, looking at his pillow on the floor. “Wake me up if you need anything, Addie.”
I nodded and pulled the blankets over me. “Jackson,” I started as he bent down to the floor. “There is enough room for both of us.” I eyed the bed. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.”
“Are you sure Addie?” he asked slowly.
“Positive,” I said with a cough. I scooted toward the edge and patted the mattress next to me. “It’s more comfortable than the floor.”
“That is true.” He shook his head, and his dark hair fell over his eyes in a way that I found oddly charming, despite the fact that it made him look completely disheveled.
“Hang on.” He hurried out of the room and returned with a long, skinny decorative pillow from the guest room. He put it between us as he sat down. “I won’t touch you,” he stated.
“I know you won’t,” I said with a small smile. Part of me was still nervous to be this close to a man. Jackson treated me like a human being, cared about me, and wanted me to be comfortable and well. Reminding myself of that eased some of the anxiety.
He smiled one of his rare, genuine smiles. “Good.”
I made myself as comfortable as possible and closed my eyes. Rain began to pitter against the window, and the slight breeze turned into wind. Mist blew across the room, dampening my face. I pulled the blankets up over my head, thinking that if it began raining any harder I’d have to get up and close the windows. Jackson beat me to it. He left them open only about an inch, just enough to keep the fresh air coming in and to allow the cleansing scent of rain into the room.
“Are you cold?” he asked me.
“Not yet,” I told him.
“Okay. I can close the windows if you get cold.”
“You don't have to. The fresh air feels good.”
“It does,” he agreed and settled back down.
“My mom used to get mad at me when I’d leave the windows open and it was cold. She would say I’d have to start paying the bill to run the heater.” I smiled at the thought of her face. Then unwelcome tears spilled down my cheeks.
As if he was able to sense my sadness, Jackson put his hand on the pillow in a gesture of comfort. Slowly, I stuck mine out from under the blanket and let my fingertips touch his.
Jackson curled his fingers around mine, his touch nothing but gentle. I pushed my hand forward until our fingers were linked. It hit me, just then, how lonely I’d been. I’d been around people, shoved onto mattresses, and manhandled since I got here. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t this, being close to someone purely for comfort. There was nothing sexual, nothing threatening or domineering about Jackson. He slowly moved his thumb into the palm of my hand, reading my face to make sure his touch was okay. Then he rubbed small circles onto my skin, relaxing me.
I liked the heat of his skin, his steady breathing, the way he smelled like soap and laundry detergent. I liked the way he was taking care of me, making sure I was comfortable and well. No, this was nothing like what I was used to. And I liked it.
“Jackson?” I whispered.
“Yeah?”
“How did you end up here?” I carefully asked. I opened my eyes and looked at him. Something dark crossed his face. His jaw tightened and he swallowed hard.
“It’s a long story.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I said and gave his hand a squeeze.
“I do.” He squeezed my hand back. “My mom was sixteen when she had me,” he started. “In the beginning she tried. She married my biological father when she turned eighteen. I remember living in this shit-hole of an apartment with them. My mom used to tell me that we were happy back then, but it was never true. Dad drank and Mom smoked, and she didn’t limit herself to cigarettes. They fought, and the fights got physical. When my mom wasn’t around to beat up, my dad took out his anger on me. I was in first grade when child services got involved.
“My parents got divorced, and that was the last I ever saw of my dad. My mom became depressed and started doing more drugs and got herself arrested. That didn’t go too well for me, as you could have guessed, so I got taken away. I was in and out of foster homes for a year before my grandma, my Mom’s mom, legally adopted me. Like mother like daughter. She still smoked and drank and life was hell. She’d blow her money on drugs and booze and forget to buy me food. And clothes. And toys—forget it. I didn’t have anything the other kids in school had.”
He stopped and took a breath, his dark eyes fixed on the ceiling above us. “But I knew how to mix cocktails,” he said with a forced laugh. He shook his head, and I noticed his eyes were glossy. “I still don’t think she ever met Nate. It was one of those friend-of-a-friend kinds of deals. When I was twelve, she sold me to him.”
My chest tightened, but it wasn’t from being ill. I clenched my jaw and braced myself for the rest of Jackson’s story.
“Nate used me for a while, but the clients interested in males like them young. I was too old already,” he spat, anger and disgust heavy on his voice. “So he put me to work in other ways. It was simple stuff at first, like cleaning and yard work. When I looked old enough, he made me work in the club, mixing drinks, serving food, like I do now. I guess I was helpful enough to keep around, since I’m still here.”
His words cut into the air and hung there, the tragedy of it all weighing down on us. I opened my mouth but was at a loss for words. Even ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t seem to cut it. I wanted to hug him, embrace him, comfort him like he had comforted me. Just the thought of that much physical contact made me nervous.
I pulled my fingers out of his and pushed my hand across the pillow until it rested on his bicep. He hesitated for just a moment then put his hand on my arm. He took in a deep breath and sighed. I traced my fingers up his arm, running them over the bullet wound.
Everything I had felt that day, the day I thought Jackson had been murdered, ran through me. Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, and my heart swelled with sadness then relief. I moved the pillow that divided the bed in half and wrapped my arms around Jackson, pressing my face into his muscular chest. He held his arms out, unsure for a few seconds before pulling me into an embrace. He rested the side of his face against my hair and let out a heavy sigh.
So many things rushed through me in that moment. I was aware of every physical sensation: my breasts crushing against his chest, the pounding of both our hearts, the rise and fall of his breathing, the way our legs touched. He had one hand on the back of my shoulders and the other tightly secured around my waist. His biceps were stiff as he clung onto me, pulling me in as if I was the only thing keeping him together.
Feeling the exact same way, I closed my eyes and relaxed. Being physically close to Jackson was comforting. I felt safe wrapped in his arms.
I sat up so I could look into his eyes. I gave him a crooked smile and pushed his hair back, letting my fingers run through its length. He met my gaze, his eyes holding back a terrified desperation. I took a breath and moved my hand to his left arm. Slowly, I pushed up the sleeve. A thin scar ran down his bicep. A small, slightly sunken circle of pink skin was in the middle. I carefully touched the bullet wound. I swallowed hard, biting back tears.
Then it hit me just how much I cared about Jackson. I blinked, causing the salty water to spill down my cheeks. Jackson leaned forward and gently wiped them away.
“Don’t cry, Addie,” he whispered, looking like he was fighting back his own emotions.
The gentleness in his voice only made it worse. I shook my head and closed my eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks.
He gently wiped them away. “It’s okay,” he soothed. “Somehow, it’ll be okay.”
I nodded and suppressed a cough, my body going rigid as I did so. Jackson sat up, resituating my pillow so I could lay down.
“Here,” he said and handed me the box of tissues and the water bottle.
“Sorry,” I said after I blew my nose. “I must look disgusting.”
Jackson slightly smiled and shook his head. “You look sick, not disgusting.”
“I feel sick,” I muttered and grabbed another tissue.
“Go back to sleep,” he suggested. He looked at the door and bit his lip as he thought.
“Jackson?” I asked before he could push himself off the bed. He turned to look at me. “Will you stay?”
His smile returned. “If you want me to.”
I nodded as I spoke. “I do.”
He reached for the long, skinny pillow and glanced at me. I shook my head. I didn’t want to keep him away from me anymore. We resituated the pillows and lay down together so that my head was resting on his chest. My breath rattled every time I inhaled, and my throat felt like I was breathing in fire, but lying there with Jackson was the most content I had felt in a long, long time.
***
I sat on the edge of the bed and watched the sun set. A ball of golden light glowed behind dark storm clouds. The temperature had dropped as the sun sank lower in the sky. Misty wind blew through the open windows, making me shiver. Jackson perched on the mattress to my side, draping a blanket around me. I pulled it tightly around my body and looked at Jackson, smiling. After a few seconds of consideration, he took my hand in his. I closed my eyes and smiled. Something sparked inside of me. I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder.
“Addie?” His voice was gentle.
“Yeah?” I answered, not opening my eyes.
“Do you remember when you said I don’t seem dead inside?”
I opened my eyes and looked up at him. “I do.”
“And I said that I had until recently?”
“I remember.”
“Well,” he began. I could feel his muscles tighten. “It was you. You brought me back to life.” He let out a breath and turned to face me. “It was getting hard finding hope after all these years. I was so close to giving up. And then I met you.”
I let go of the edges of the blanket and twisted toward him, taking his other hand. Warmth ran through my body, making my heart swell and nerves tingle.
“I hated myself for doing nothing,” he confessed. “I should have stopped Zane and let you run away. But I didn’t, and now...” he paused, taking a breath to prepare for what he was about to say. “Now I hate myself for being glad that I didn’t do anything.”
“What do you mean?” I asked softly.
“I never would have met you. Not if you had run away. I would have let myself die inside without you,” he shyly blurted. “You’re so full of fire. You haven’t lost hope. I’ve never met anyone who can hold onto who they are in such a horrible situation. You saved me, Adeline. And now I want to save you.”
The warm tingles made their way down my body. I looked at Jackson. Our eyes locked, and he moved his face just an inch from mine. He closed his eyes. My heart skipped a beat. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to feel his lips gently press against mine. I wanted to feel the pleasurable feeling travel all the way through me. I wanted to feel everything a kiss could bring.
But I was scared. I was scared that the moment our lips touched, I would flinch away. I was scared I was too damaged to love, or be loved. I didn’t want fear to ripple down my spine instead of desire. I slowly let out my breath and allowed my eyes to close. Jackson tightened his embrace and pressed his lips to my forehead. I instantly relaxed and melted into his arms.
He ran his hands over my hair and rested his head against mine. I slowly flattened my palms against his back, cautiously feeling his muscles. My heart began to beat faster as I let my hands drop to his waist. I stuck my fingers under the hem of his black t-shirt and soaked in the warmth of his skin. He deeply inhaled and pulled me closer.
I couldn’t help it. I recoiled, pushing him away, heart racing. The blanket fell to the floor. Jackson looked at me, hurt.
“I’m sorry,” I panted, leaning over to pick up the blanket. “It’s not you,” I stammered. “It’s…it’s…” I couldn’t get the rest of the sentence out before I started crying.
“Addie,” Jackson said gently. “It’s okay. It was my fault. I didn’t think about it.” His brown eyes clouded with sadness. “Do you want me to go so you can get some rest?”
I shook my head. “No. I like being with you,” I said. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out, waiting for my heart to stop racing. I sat back on the bed and motioned for Jackson to sit next to me.
“I want to be able to be close to you.”
“Okay,” he said with a half smile. “Take it slow.” Jackson was careful not to touch me as he settled onto the bed. I angled my body toward his, eyeing him up and down. I leaned closer and closer to him until my shoulder brushed against his. My heart sped up. Jackson rubbed his fingers against my palm again. I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. He carefully twisted and put his arm around me, gently resting his hand on my arm.
Jackson moved his face back. “Is this okay?” he whispered.
“Yes,” I whispered back. It was more than okay. His touch was different, gentle, enjoyable. My fear of not being able to love someone started to melt away. I looked into his dark eyes. Being there, tightly wrapped in Jackson’s embrace felt so right, so normal. I forgot about our hellish reality. All I thought about, all I wanted, was Jackson. He was the knight I had been looking for. Instead of shining metal he was covered in scars, which if you ask me, is some of the toughest armor one could wear.
I took my hand from his and moved it up, hovering above his waist. My heart skipped a beat when I let it fall. It was nerve wrecking to be this close to a man when every male I had encountered over the last few months hurt me in some way.
Jackson was different, I reminded myself. He was a victim, like me. I closed my eyes, feeling his muscle contract as he nervously held me in an awkward embrace. I wondered if I’d ever feel desire again. Was it possible for sex to be enjoyable?
I opened my eyes and looked into Jackson’s dark eyes, needing to make sure the man I was leaning against was really him and not one of my clients. Jackson gave me another smile, one that made me believe that there really might be hope for us to get out of here alive … and made me believe that yes, I could feel that desire again someday. I could want him.
The front door slammed shut, echoing up the stairs and startling me.
“Shit,” Jackson swore, his eyes widening. “Zane’s home.”