“The place was rigged. The second we stepped in…an explosion sent a beam on top of us. We were both pinned, and he begged me to stay awake. I think he knew he was dying, but hedidn’t want to be alone. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital with second-degree burns and a dead partner.”
My heart feels like it’s being pounded with a mallet, aching for the guilt he’s let become his armor. “You w-were burned?” I stammer, shifting to my tummy and stifling a wince at the pull on my arm.
“Mostly my left leg. By the end of it, all the therapy and wound dressing—I couldn’t stand anyone’s touch. I don’t even know why. I’ve had injuries before. But it’s like being cared for only made me feel worse.” His words come out a little less strained, like voicing the pain has loosened some of the stronghold it has on him. He’s probably been told a hundred times that his aversion is psychosomatic, and I don’t know what to do with the fact that he doesn’t mindmytouch. I’m hoping it’s a step to living fully free.
“I’m so sorry for what you went through.” I move so that my head is resting on his shoulder. “But it sounds like you were blindsided. You have a good heart, Jack, and I’d bet my life that the possibility of shutting down a human trafficking ring was worth the risk for you.”
He doesn’t put a hand on me, but I feel the steadying of his heart under my ear.
“I may not mind your touch, Lo, but I know I’m still too messed up to start a relationship. I don’t know if I can survive letting someone down like that again. And tonight is proof that that’s what happens when I let people get too close.”
I scrunch my face as I lift my head to scowl at him. “So what, you’re gonna go the rest of your life pushing everyone away ‘cause you’re afraid? You can’t live your life in a fortress. It’s hard either way, Jack, whether you choose to let people in and risk your heart or you keep yourself closed off forever. Neither of those options is easy, but only one of them has the potential for happiness.”
With slow movements, he sits up, raking a hand through his hair before maneuvering out of the sleeping bag to put on his boots. And it feels like I’ve been pulling a loose thread on a sweater. I’m only trying to fix things, but I’m not sure if picking at it wasn’t a huge mistake, because now the whole thing will unravel until it’s ruined.
“I’m gonna check the perimeter.” He turns to cast me a ghostly look over his shoulder. “Get some sleep. Your body needs it.”
What I need is his arms pulling me close against his chest and an extra soft mattress. A pillow would be nice, too.
Seriously, why are pillows not a bigger deal when camping? No one ever mentions a pillow.
Jack’s boots crunch out of our little cave, taking most of the warmth and a little hope along with him. Dejection sends another ripple of shivers down my back as I pull the sleeping bag over my shoulder, and I’m stuck wondering if this whole thing was a mistake.
How much worse can things get out here?And how much longer can I really last?
They’re the last thoughts I remember as my eyes sink closed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
It turns out, things can actually getbetter.I didn’t wake up on a satin pillowcase or a mattress made of clouds, but there’s no arguing that what’s happening right now surpasses the most outrageous sleeping aids imaginable.
I don’t move a muscle, pretending to be asleep for as long as I can. Screw needing to pee and the agony of no toilet plus the pain from a very rude introduction to a bullet. This is the stuff women worldwide dream of—right up there with morally grey heroes and men who growlmy wifeandwho hurt you. I’m determined to memorize every detail for spinsters worldwide and victims of D-bag boyfriends. They deserve to know that there are good ones out there and that moments like this actually happen. And I’m currently the top slice in a Jack-and-Willow sleeping bag sandwich.
How I ended up using Jack’s shoulder as a pillow with his thumb hooked under the hem of my shirt is a mystery, seeing as I was knocked out on pain meds most of the night. But can you blame me for snuggling up to the sexy, kind, and slightly grumpy source of heat beside me? Even my subconscious knewthis was a no-brainer. In fact, I might have questioned my own sanity if I’d woken up any other way.
I know the instant Jack is awake, because the steady thumping of his heart picks up speed beneath my ear. Then he drags his thumb up and down on my back once, seemingly savoring the contact before he clears his throat and slips out from under me.
Well, it was nice while it lasted.
My new life goal is to make sure that wasn’t a one-time occurrence. Preferablywithoutthe bullet wound, next time.
My good arm stretches forward as I slump to a sitting position, faking a yawn. “Good morning,” I say.
“Good morning. I’m gonna take the perimeter rope down, then you can do what you need to do?—”
“You mean toilet things, only without the toilet.”
“Yes, Lo, toilet things.” He gives me one of his rare smiles, the one that’s always reluctant to appear, and it feels like getting a glimpse of something precious and beautiful. “I’ll check your arm and get your meds once I’m back, then we can eat breakfast.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” I salute his retreating back. “Your butt looks good in those pants, by the way. Your backpack has been hiding some good buns, Jack Ripper.”
His short, snorted laugh echoes into the cave before he disappears.
He’s wasting energy, pulling away from me. Wasting all that snuggle time…and make-out time.
This thing between us is inevitable. I know it in my gut, but I’m also a very persistent person, and I’m not above annoying him into giving in.
Ten minutes later, I’ve cringed through the no-toilet business, brushed my teeth, and stuffed Jack’s hoodie into Marigold. My arm hurts like Thor himself struck me with a bolt of lightning,but I can’t tell Jack that. I already know he’ll put up a fight when I insist on carrying anything, but I’ll fight back. Having an active part in the outcome of this mess feels vital to soothing the turmoil churning in my chest.
