Page 58 of Jackson
Nothing felt good.
Nothingtastedgood.
With a frustrated exhalation, he closed the door.
Since Paula had left him, Jackson had buried himself in his work and volunteering at Club Indigo. If he wasn’t at one place, he was at the other, or else home watching Tolkien movies as he tried to get to sleep at night.
The meth lab investigation continued, but no one was making any breaks in the case. They had arrested multiple low-level dealers, both from the independents and from the cartels. There had been another truck hijacking of pharmaceuticals, so the independent operators had plenty of cold medicine to use in making the deadly drug.
His work life was plodding along.
But he missed Paula like a vital part of himself was absent.
Watching a movie with her or listening to music they both liked—it didn’t seem to matter what they did—she threw herself into the experience with abandon and made it more fun and exciting for him, too.
Then there was Club Indigo. Jackson couldn’t decide if he was filling his time or torturing himself with how much time he spent at the club.
Maybe the club had been a distraction, but at least it had been something. He’d spent every weekend there since Paula left. He served as Dungeon Monitor. He checked people in, set up equipment, and cleaned when it was over. Whatever needed doing, he took care of it, anything to keep his hands busy and his thoughts off her.
It hadn’t helped.
Every time, he saw other couples moving in sync—the way a submissive softened under their Dominant’s touch, the way trust built between them.
It wasn’t even the lack of sex that made him ache—although it had been damn good with Paula.
It was the connection he missed.
He braced his hands against the counter, letting his head hang.
The club was buzzing, the low murmur of conversations mixing with the rhythmic crack of a flogger against bare skin.
Jackson stood near the bar, watching Paula as she moved through the crowd. She was observing and learning. She did that a lot, soaking in details like they were clues to a puzzle only she could solve.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he murmured, stepping in beside her.
Paula glanced at him, arching a brow. “And you’re making assumptions.”
His lips twitched. She was always like this. Defiant, even when she didn’t mean to be.
“Come here.” He tugged her gently by the wrist, leading her to a quiet corner. “Tell me what you see.”
She hesitated but played along. “Trust.”
That surprised him.
He had expected her to say control, maybe obedience. But not trust.
She crossed her arms, watching as a Dom whispered into his submissive’s ear, adjusting the cuffs on her wrists. The woman’s breathing slowed, her shoulders relaxing under his touch.
“I don’t get it,” Paula admitted softly. “It’s not just about rules, is it?”
“No.” Jackson studied her, tilting his head. “It’s about knowing someone well enough to give them what they need before they even ask.”
She turned her gaze back to the scene. “And that’s what you want?”
It was almost 4 AM now.
He grabbed his phone, staring at the blank screen.
