Page 89 of Middle Ground
I nod. “I’m okay,” I say. “Mostly.”
His gaze hardens. “Definemostly.”
“My chest hurts a little. I’m waiting to be called back to radiology for an x-ray.” In this moment, it’s easier to be upfront. “And I’m probably going to have a gnarly bruise on my jaw from the airbag… But you should see the other guy.”
My stupid joke falls flat as Jackson’s own jaw works, clenched to the point of grinding his teeth. His hand reaches up, fingers brushing the column of my throat. I’m sure he can feel it when I swallow thickly, my breath shallowing. Again, from the chest pain or from his touch, I’m not sure. He tilts my head to the side, inspecting my jaw.
“Fuck,” he curses.
“That bad?” I ask. “I guess my usual tinted moisturizer isn’t going to cut it while it heals. I’ll have to cover it with foundation so I don’t scare the guests away. It’s?—”
“Meyer,” Jackson says, cutting me off again. “Make no mistake, you’re fucking beautiful, bruised or not. I just hate that you’re hurt.”
I nod as I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Sorry. This is how I cope with things. Or avoid them, I guess.”
His gaze softens as he continues to take me in. “You have nothing to apologize for, baby.”
Everything—the fear, the exhaustion, the pain—stacks up and takes my breath away. And then tears begin to prick my eyes. I blink furiously. Crying in public is a line I won’t let myself cross.
My chin wobbles as I stifle the sob working its way up my throat, begging to be set free.
I hardly notice at first, but Jackson’s arms slide under me, and then I’m being settled on his lap. I curl around him,hiding my face against his shoulder. I pay no mind to the burning in my chest when I shift. I need the comfort more than I care about the pain.
We stay like that for what feels like forever, but I eventually manage to calm myself enough to lift my head. “Jackson,” I say. “Something was wrong with the brakes in your car.”
His arm tightens around me. His kiss ghosts my temple. “We can talk about it later. Right now, let’s just focus on getting you out of here.”
I want to argue, but I’ve already been at the hospital for what must be hours, and I’m exhausted. I don’t have it in me.
“Meyer?” a nurse calls. “You can head on back to radiology now. Just make a right at the end of the hall and follow the signage.”
Jackson pulls his arms back, allowing me the space to stand. I do so on shaky legs. Now that the adrenaline has seeped from my body, I feel wrung out, like a used sponge. I want nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed.
When he starts following me, I turn to him. “You don’t need to come with me,” I say. “It’s okay.”
He takes my hand. “And you don’t need to be alone.”
Alone.
I’m often alone—with my thoughts, with my hurts. Not for lack of trying on Mom’s and Pippa’s parts. But it’s much easier to keep this cage around my heart intact if I don’t give anyone the tools to dismantle it.
But Jackson Vaughan has thoroughly wormed his way in. He came prepared with instructions and snuck past mydefences, in such an effortless way I had no choice but to let it happen.
Alone used to be a comfort. Now comfort comes in the form of a pair of honey-coloured eyes.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Always, baby.” He squeezes my hand. “Always.”
CHAPTER 31
JACKSON
After a few more hours atthe hospital, we finally push through the door of Meyer’s cottage. She leans heavily into me, ready to fall asleep at any moment.
“I’m beyond ready for bed,” she says, pulling away from me. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”
“You okay on your own?”
