Page 9 of Jackson

Jackson worked his fingers up slowly from the tips of mine and down to where the burn in the center of my palm was, coating all of it in a nice thin layer of the cream that began to slowly soak into my skin.

His touch was gentle as he worked, taking the kind of care that I wasn’t used to receiving.

“Wow, didn’t know this place came with VIP service,” Tyson teased.

I shot a glare at him, praying that it would be enough to shut him up. One of these days, Tyson was going to get us both into trouble for spouting off nonsense to the wrong person. If he so much as insinuated anything to the COs about Jackson and I, we’d be pulled from the program faster than either of us could blink.

“How’s that feeling? Better?” Jackson fanned out my fingers, completely ignoring Tyson’s remarks.

Truth be told, it actually did feel a lot better. There was no more of that uncomfortable pinch that lingered every time I moved it or that dull ache of pain that seemed to flare up right when I finally stopped thinking about it.

I forced myself not to pull my fingers together, wary of spreading the cream too much or getting it caked onto other parts of my skin where it didn’t need to be.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

For some reason this entire act, while ultimately innocent on the surface, felt so much more than that. It felt intimate in a way I hadn’t been with anyone else since my ex. My touch-starved nature was rearing its ugly head and making me feel things that I really didn’t need to be feeling at all.

Let alone toward the head of the damn Cal Fire Inmate Program.

I wasn’t sure what Jackson’s deal was with seeking me out personally like this—he could’ve just as well had someone else, aCO most likely, come and get me to bring me to the infirmary to make sure my hand wasn’t getting infected.

Instead, he’d gone out of his way to come all the way over to the mess hall and check on me.

At least, that’s what it was feeling like. Although, who knew. Maybe he was just there to grab breakfast before training began. My over thinking this entire situation was probably just me blowing out a kind gesture way out of proportion.

The guy was just trying to be nice, probably even pitied me.

I was sure all he saw was some kid who had gotten himself involved in something stupid and wound up behind bars. That’s what I would’ve thought looking at me. I wasn’t the typical run-of-the-mill criminal with a hardened past and the faint wrinkles embedded into my face to prove it.

I looked like the kind of person that would have a simple 9-to-5 at a local convenience store and occasionally have trouble reaching the top shelf to stock products. Not have a rap sheet that was fifteen charges long.

Not to mention this guy was most likely married with a gaggle of kids at home. That’s what hot guys like him always had waiting for them.

Me lusting after someone like him because I’d been starved of any form of human contact that wasn’t in exchange for commissary wasn’t his problem. It was mine to deal with and get under control before I did something stupid—like flirt back.

Jackson let go of my hand finally, grabbing the scraps of gauze he’d used on me yesterday.

“You shouldn’t need to get that wrapped again. We won’t be doing anything strenuous today, just a few demonstrations and then some prep work. But if you feel like you need it to be wrapped for that, stop by with your CO to the medic station and someone will patch you up again.”

I nodded, my lips pressed together tightly.

“Just let that cream soak in before touching anything, though,” he went on. “It’s best to let your body do what it naturally does.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled again, not knowing what else to say.

Roxy huffed against my stomach when her owner rose from his seat. Her big brown eyes flitted between us both while she continued to stay comfortably stuck on my lap.

Jackson let out an amused chuckle before recalling her back to his side. “You boys have a good breakfast.”

My gaze locked onto his back as he left, heading over to the buffet where the spread of food was still laid out and one of the prep workers was standing behind the plate display.

Without realizing it, I let out a slow breath.

“Next time, let me get burned,” Tyson said. “I want a hot daddy to rub cream all overmyhand.”

I wrinkled my nose. “You’re disgusting.”

He laughed loudly.

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