Page 64 of Jackson's Redemption
“I was curious about the day I had my accident.”
“When you ran from me,” he said like it as an accusation.
“Because I had just learned you lied to me about who you were, you had actually purposefully brought me up here and, oh, what was that other thing? Yeah, you had been wrongly jailed by my father. Don’t make it out like running was the craziest thing in the world to do.”
He sighed. “I could have handled that better.”
“You think?”
“I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t the first time he said it, but this time it made me feel like I had a lump in my throat. “I should have heard you out. Not reacted so quickly. I definitely knew better than to think you might really hurt me, but I was so…”
Upset, angry, betrayed. If I was being fair, I was also heartsick. I’d had this magical five days with Jackson. It was like living in a fairy tale where all the bad stuff was gone, and only good things happened.
In a second, it was all torn away.
“Hurt,” he said for me.
I nodded. “Anyway, I was pretty out of it. How did you get us to the truck?”
“I carried you, tried to keep your wound compressed against my shoulder. Mountain Man found us. He carried you, too. We switched a few times to conserve our energy. It was a risk, but in the end, I think we were able to move faster because we did.”
I saw the stark outline of his face as he remembered that day. “You were scared.”
One sharp nod.
“Me, too,” I said. Then I tried to lighten the mood. “But I’m made of scrappy stuff. I wasn’t going down without a fight. You said something to me. I can remember you shouting but not what you said.”
“I told you if you died, I would bring you back from heaven,” he said gruffly.
“Pretty bold claim,” I said, taking a swig of my beer.
“At the time I meant it.”
I swallowed around that lump again. “At the time? So if I died now, you would let me go?”
He didn’t say anything. Just stood and walked to the stove to stir the pasta.
I sighed.
“I don’t know what you want, Kate.” His back was to me, but I still heard him. “I swear to God, I really don’t know why you’re here.”
“That makes two of us,” I whispered. Because I didn’t know why I was here, either, if I wasn’t willing to be what Jackson wanted me to be. Someone who could love him back. Someone who could believe in his love.
I only knew I didn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Fuck this. I’ll make you forget you’re hungry.” He turned off the stove and pushed the dish to a burner that wasn’t hot. Then he turned and, in what felt like a fluid motion, picked me up, lifting me over his shoulder. Not my bad side, of course.
I didn’t scream or pummel him. I did dig my hands into the back of his jeans, running my nails along his ass. Hard enough so that I knew he felt it.
And when he laid me out on my bed, I was already wet in anticipation of him. Like a soothing balm, he made everything go away. All my tension and fear were transformed into desire for him. Only he could do this to me.
He stripped off my socks, leggings and sweatshirt in short order. I shivered as the cold air hit my skin.
“It’s cold. I need a blanket.” It was a demand as if I was unaffected by his need to drag me off to bed. As if I wasn’t laid out like some naked sacrifice in front of him. Like I was the queen and he was the lowly soldier come to serve me.
“Storm is coming from up north,” he said as explanation for the weather. Then he stripped himself naked and crawled over me. “I’ll be your blanket.”
