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What if he doesn’t want me anymore? I’m not exactly baggage-free, and he doesn’t need to deal with my shitshow of a life.
Licking my lips as I try to control my surging emotions, I wait as he glances up from the stove. Instantly, my chest crushes. His expression is locked down in a way that stops me from reading how he’s feeling, and I don’t like that. He’s closed off, keeping me at arm’s length.
Disappointment and hurt flow through me as I fiddle absently with the hem of my sweater. His sweater. I remember he gave it to me to wear before he tucked me into bed.
“You hungry?” he finally asks, breaking some of the ice growing between us.
Not anymore, but I nod anyway since the food is already prepared.
“Did you sleep okay?” I ask. Considering he was out of bed before me, it seems like a silly question, but I want him to tell me where his head is.
“I got maybe a couple of hours,” he says, moving the spatula around the pan. It’s bacon he’s cooking, and there are slices of bread on two plates, ready to go.
I grip his forearm, forcing his attention toward me. “Are you okay?”
His body tenses, his shoulders squaring, but he doesn’t look at me, and that doesn’t feel positive. “I can’t stop replaying what happened over and over in my head.”
My stomach tightens. It’s my fault he’s having nightmares. I didn’t stop to think about what dying would do to the people around me. All I was focused on was getting back to myself. And him. “I’m so sorry, Jackson.”
“It’s not your fault. You did what you had to do. You were only in that position because of the girls. Because Halle thinks she can control everything.”
“It wasn’t their fault.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, dropping the spatula into the pan and turning abruptly to me. “They broke your brain, Dove. They meddled with things they didn’t understand, and you paid the price. The best thing for us to do is hit the road as soon as you’re feeling better. We can vanish, get the hell out of here, go somewhere safe, away from the Order and whatever the fuck is going on.”
His words send a tendril of fear blasting through my body. My blood turns to ice at the anger coming from him. I don’t like hearing he feels this way, though a part of me is hanging on to the fact that he said “we". He does want me that way, enough to leave everyone behind, and that eases the blooming pain inside my chest. “They’re your friends and your family. We can’t just leave.”
His eyes blaze as he leans into me, his voice ragged as he snarls, “You had to die to undo what they did. You think I want you around them? Not to mention not a single one of them believes that we’re meant to be together.”
My heart breaks for him. For the bitterness in his tone and the bone-deep hurt I feel. I never wanted to turn him away from his family.
“Don’t hold onto your anger, Jackson. I’m fine. You’re fine. That’s all that matters.”
Clearly, it’s not even close to what matters to him. He shakes his head, picking up the spatula again and turning his back to me.
I don’t like the distance growing between us already.
“They deserve my anger, Dove.”
I agree with him; I really do, but there is more at stake here than holding on to grudges. “They were trying to help.”
He shoves the pan across the stove, making it rattle loudly. The bacon slips over the edge, firing onto the top of it. I almost flinch, but I stand my ground. He’s overreacting right now, but I know he needs to get this out after weeks of being on his own.
“No, they weren’t trying to help. They were trying to prove a point, and they used you as a fucking guinea pig. We need to leave here and put some distance between us and the Order, and between everyone who seems intent on hurting you.” He backs me up until my spine is pressed against the counter. I’m not scared of him; I’ve never felt afraid around Jackson, but I am scared for him. The way he grips my shoulders is almost bruising. “Trouble is coming, and I don’t want to be a fucking part of it. And I sure as hell don’t want you to be either.”
I nibble my bottom lip, unsure how to answer him diplomatically. As much as I would love to run, to pretend we have some semblance of a normal life, it just isn’t possible. Because of what I am, I will always be hunted by those who think they can use me for their own gain. The only way to stop this is to face it.
I reach up, my hands cupping his cheeks, and I give up on diplomacy and settle on honesty. My heart flutters as his gaze softens at my touch. We should be talking about us, not this.
“I appreciate you trying to take care of me, but I’m not going anywhere, Jackson. Those girls rescued me from whatever hell I was going through with the Order. They tried to help me, and okay, it backfired, but their intentions were good.”
“I don’t care what their intentions were. I had to watch you walk around like a zombie for weeks. I had no idea if I’d ever have you back.”
His words shatter something inside me. He’s right. I might have been locked in a cage, but he was right there with me.
But this isn’t about what happened to me. We have to build a future—one where we’re not looking over our shoulders all the time. We can’t do that alone.
“The Order isn’t going to stop looking for me. If we leave the Sanctuary, we risk being caught. I won’t go back there, Jackson. I can’t. I don’t think I can survive it again.”
