Page 46 of Jackson

“Tell me,” he said.

“It’s a long story.”

“I want to hear it anyway.”

“No…” I sighed again. “You really don’t.”

He grew quiet, his hand idly carding through my hair at slow enough pace that it had begun to make me feel drowsy. I blinked a few times, forcing myself to stay awake—needing to—while he was still here.

We had such precious little time together. I didn’t want to miss any of it because my stupid body was running on fumes.

“My father,” Jackson murmured. “He was a lot like your ex-husband. From the sounds of it, anyway.”

His tone was even, but being so close to him like this, I could feel the sudden hitch in his voice as he said the words. I hadn’t been expecting him to open up to me at all, not like this, anyway. I wanted him to keep talking but I didn’t know how to ask.

“We always walked around on eggshells around him,” he said after a while. “After my mom died, he changed into a different person. Things got worse.”

“I’m sorry.” My heart hurt for him. I’d never been close to my parents, but I knew the lost feeling as a child with having no one you could trust in the world. The love of a parent was something that could never be replaced.

“My brother and I were always trying to get him to be proud of us. We were military brats, so you can only imagine the kind of disciplinarian he was.”

I winced.

While Alex had never been in the military himself, he’d run our household like the fucking barracks. Back when I was a teenager, if even a single thing was out of place or not to his liking, I got punished. I’d learned his habits quickly, making sure to keepfrom angering him or else I was sure he’d throw me out onto the streets to fend for myself.

It wasn’t much different after we’d gotten married, but at least I had a little say in what went on under that roof. His expectations of me had been astronomical, though, which counteracted most of the privileges I’d been granted once I became his legal spouse.

“Alex was like that,” I said softly. “He wasn’t military, but…”

Jackson’s thumb moved across my cheek. “I’m sorry he treated you that way, Ayen.”

“I didn’t know any better. He took me in off the streets when I was sixteen. I was a runaway so I thought he was this… I don’t know. Messiah figure. I think that got to his head.”

“That seems to be a running theme with abusers.” He had a slightly ironic tone that was tinged with sadness. “They get a savior complex after a while.”

I sighed. “Yeah. And then blame you for it when reality comes crashing down and they realize they’re not shit.”

He chuckled softly.

I tilted my head to the side and pressed my ear over his heart. It beat steadily under me, the thrumming sound of it comforting. I raised my hand to grip his bicep.

If anything were to happen to me, I knew Jackson would protect me. He’d done it plenty of times so far and that wasn’t even life and death shit.

He was a noble man with a good moral compass. He saw injustice and he fought against it. That was the kind of man that deserved the world.

“At least you had your brother. I’m glad you were there for each other.”

Jackson grew quiet again, his fingers pausing in my hair. My body tensed, realizing I’d said something I shouldn’t have, though I didn’t know what. I waited, with baited breath, for him to speak again.

I needed to stop assuming things like I knew what I was talking about. I was so desperate in wanting to know Jackson that it’d led me to putting my foot in my mouth. Despite us being this close physically, that wasn’t my green light to believe I knew anything about him personally.

When he finally spoke, he said, “Used to. He’s gone now.”

Shit…

“I’m—”

“It’s okay,” he cut me off. “He was sad for a long, long time.”

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