Page 73 of Middle Ground
Meyer spent a great deal of time with Trystan, calling guests with reservations to keep them apprised of the situation and issuing cancellations where needed. I spent that time with Pippa, figuring out a solution to our new storage issue and deciding how best to replace our waterlogged inventory.
I also wasted a great many minutes on the phone with the insurance company. It was frustrating, but I wanted to save Meyer from having to do it. She was already stressed enough.
It’s moments like these where I know we work perfectly together. Whether she wants to admit it or not, Meyer cares. A lot. Her strength is people. Talking to them, bonding with them, making sure their needs are met. My strengths lie behind the scenes.
After walking a still-jittery Pippa to her car and ensuring she is okay to drive, I enter the inn through the main entrance. Meyer is slumped against the front desk. She tries to fight it, but her eyes are drifting closed.
Seeing the bandage wrapped around her palm has my fists clenching as my anger surges anew. I know it’s only a minor burn that will soon heal, but what if it wasn’t? What if she was the one trapped inside that room? I’m not sure what I would have done.
“Meyer,” I say gently, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “it’s time to go home.”
Her lashes flutter, and then she’s blinking up at me. Her gorgeous blue eyes are tinged in fear, but they relax as they settle on me.
She shakes her head. “I can’t leave.”
“The night clerk is here, right?” She nods. “Then there’s no need for you to be here, too.”
She swallows as she weighs something in her mind. “I’m scared that if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up and it will all be gone,” she finally admits. “I can’t lose this place, Jackson.”
I round the front desk. Grabbing Meyer’s hand, I tug her upright and into my chest. She stands frozen for a moment before her body sags against mine. She slides her arms around my middle. My touch settles on her back, one hand smoothing a circle against her t-shirt.
We’ve already had sex, arguably the most intimate you can get with a person, yet this feels more so somehow.
“You give good hugs, Mr. Vaughan,” Meyer croaks.
I tighten my hold. “You can have one whenever you want, baby. All you have to do is ask.”
“I’m not your baby,” she protests.
I simply grin, my lips pressed to the crown of her head.
The walk to Meyer’s cottage is silent. All that can be heard is chirping crickets and the soft whispering of the breeze. I keep my hand anchored in hers. To make sure she stays upright, but also to feel her. To reassure myself that she’s okay.
I may have been the one trapped in that storage room, but all I seem to be able to focus on is Meyer and how easily that could’ve been her.
Once she has unlocked her front door and stepped inside, I take a step back, getting ready to leave. I wait until the door has closed before I start walking away.
But then I hear the creak of hinges, followed by?—
“Jackson?”
I pause. Turning on my heel, I try not to let my hopefulness show. “Yeah?”
“Will you stay?” she asks. Her voice is small. “I, um, don’t really want to be alone tonight.”
I shouldn’t feel victorious—not when Meyer is a shell of the woman that regularly enjoys busting my balls—but I do. Because for once, Meyer is admitting that she needs someone. That she needsme.
Maybe some would mistake this as weakness, but I know better. She has never been stronger than she is right now, asking for help.
“I don’t want to be alone either,” I confess. And I don’t. Not after the day we’ve had.
I walk back up the porch and step over the threshold, into the house. Meyer rises on the tips of her toes as she takesmy face in her hands. I drop my forehead to hers, and then my lips follow suit, brushing against her soft pink ones.
If someone were to ask me what I was doing with her, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. All I know is being with Meyer—well, it feels right. More right than anything else I’ve ever experienced.
I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her that she would be the sweetest indulgence. Now that I’ve had a taste, I’m not sure I can let go. I don’twantto let go.
But it’s more than that, too. I care for her in a way that leaves me breathless sometimes. It snuck up on me, this feeling, but I want to lean into it.
