Page 54 of Mountain Freedom
“I hope so.”
“Me too.” He gave me a long look, then rapped his knuckles on the door frame and left me alone in his living room.
I sighed, feeling his absence in more ways than one. With nothing left to do or say, I slipped into the guest bathroom to change. Then I made up a bed on his couch and drifted into troubled sleep.
Hours later,I jerked awake, startled by loud cries.
“No! Stop! Please don’t hurt her.”
It took me a moment to realize the yells were coming from Jackson. I rolled off the couch and ran toward his bedroom.
I threw open the door and flipped on the light. Jackson immediately sat up in bed. He was sweating, but he was alone. My body sagged with relief as I realized his screams had been from a nightmare.
I clutched my heart. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair and ducked his head.
I crossed the room and sat beside him on the bed, squeezing his hand. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” He looked away.
“Jackson.” I repeated his name until he finally looked at me. Those eyes were full of grief—and humiliation. “It’s okay,” I said. “Everything’s okay.”
“I’m a grown-ass man—no, a grown-asslaw enforcement officer—who has nightmares like a child. Nothing about that is okay.”
I ran my hand over his face, wishing I could wash away all the years of hurt. “Don’t even start with that. I know what you went through. Remember? I saw the way he beat you.” I stroked his hair, patting him much in the same way I had when he was a kid, when I would find him hiding down by the creek. I spoke softly, like I had then, trying to ease the pain in the only way I knew how. “I saw, Jackson. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“I should be over this by now.”
“Over trauma?” I gave a small laugh and shook my head. “That’s not how it works. Your body remembers. And after working a child abuse case, it’s completely understandable that you were triggered. There’s nothing wrong with you. You just had a bad day.”
“You have no idea.” He covered his face with his hands and fell backward on the bed, groaning. “Allison, I need to tell you something. And you might not forgive me for it.”
“What?”
He uncovered his face and looked at me. “I don’t even know how to tell you this, but…I think Russell is the one breaking into your house.”
“Russell?” The thought shocked—and terrified—me. I knew what that man could do.
Jackson nodded slowly.
“But why? Why me?”
He closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low. “Because he knows what you mean to me. And he wants to use you to hurt me.”
I stared at him, processing it all. If he was right, that was scary. Scarier even than an opioid-deprived patient breaking into my house. Russell Sharp was someone I didn’t want to cross paths with, much less be targeted by.
“We found a cigarette butt in your backyard, the same kind he smokes,” Jackson continued, his eyes still closed like he couldn’t bear looking at me. “There was a boot print out back tonight. I checked when you were packing your bag. It looks to be the same size as his. And he’s been threatening me. Following me. He knows we’ve been spending time together. He’s seen us.”
“No wonder you had a nightmare,” I said weakly. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t think we can hang out anymore,” Jackson said, his eyes still closed, his voice still low and full of pain. “It’s not safe for you.”
I kept staring at him—at this man who had lived through an unspeakable childhood and come out on the other side dedicated to keeping everyone else safe. This man who cared about me—probably more than he would admit—but wanted to walk away to keep me safe.
“Well, I’m here tonight,” I said, making a decision. “So there’s that. And I’m not going back to the couch. I’m sleeping in here with you.”
“You shouldn’t—” he started to say, but I cut him off.
