Page 22 of Jackson

I nodded, completely shell-shocked.

He’d defended me to the Warden?

But why?

What did he even get out of that?

I was one less number to worry about if I was gone.

Holy shit, I owed this man my damn life.

Or at the very least, some kind of favor.

Was that why he’d done it?

To get something out of me?

I couldn’t imagine what the fuck he’d want from an inmate who had nothing to give. I didn’t have any money and I certainly didn’t have any pull with any of the local gangs.

I was essentially useless to him.

So then, why?

“I want you to finish out this program,” Jackson went on. “I think it’ll be good for you. Maybe you don’t agree with me but that’s the way I see it. This program isn’t about toughening people up or teaching them to learn a bunch of useless facts about fire fighting. It’s about finding the piece inside of you that is dedicated to helping people. I may not know you, Ayen, but I can tell that you can understand that.”

I swallowed thickly.

Even though Jackson would never know it, his words meant a lot to me.

Up until the day I’d gotten arrested, I’d been considered a wallflower, a shy and naive boy who never knew what he wanted out of life. There wasn’t a day that passed by where I didn’t feel like I was in the way or that I was a burden to someone.

Especially my ex.

Even now, two years later, it hurt to think about.

All those nights I’d spent trying to convince him that I wasn’t meant to be some house husband who stayed in line and did whatever he wanted—I had dreams and passions, too, and just because I didn’t know what they were or where I wanted to go with them, didn’t mean that they weren’treal.

Hearing Jackson talk about something like that had the memories of my past flooding back into my mind, reminding me of the person I’d always been dying to be but never got a chance to because the justice system was fucking rigged. No one cared about a kid who was barely legal at the time being manipulatedfor years on end to the point of snapping and doing something that could never be taken back.

All anyone saw of me now was a cold-blooded murderer. Not the abused husband who’d been trying to run away only to get caught in the end.

But not Jackson.

He saw therealme.

Or at least until he found out about what I’d been sent to prison for. I was sure after that, he’d change his tune real fast.

Most people did, but then again, could I really blame them?

Until then though, I’d bask in his confidence in me.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

He smiled and slowly let go of me. “Did you want something to eat? I made pancakes. They’re probably not as good as the ones down at the mess hall, but they do the job.”

My skin burned where he’d touched. The remnants of the heat of his hand on me felt like a brand that I never wanted to fade. I liked how it felt, him touching me so casually and like we’d been doing this for a while.

I swallowed again and nodded, taking a seat in one of the chairs at his small dining table, Roxy following me over to join me.

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