“Um…mostly…” I bite my lip, assessing my options. I’m so tired I could fall asleep right on this speckled bathroom tile. My lips flap as I remind myself of everything I accomplished over the past half a week. If I can tackle crossing the Grand Canyon looking like a wet koala, I can survive asking Jack for a spare shirt to sleep in. Heck, I might even have fun trying to make him blush.
I square my shoulders, opening the door with as much dignity as I can fake. Jack jumps back.
“So…uh…I have nothing clean to wear.” I tighten the slightly too small towel around my body, enjoying Jack’s look of trepidation, as if I’m a wild animal who could attack at any second. “You wouldn’t happen to have a clean shirt I could borrow, would you? Actually, I’ll be honest, you probably won’t get it back. Same with the hoodie, by the way. But if you have one you’re willing to part with, that would be amazing.”
He doesn’t speak, just swallows and holds out a large brownpaper gift bag. My eyes ping from him to the bag, and he blinks, snapping out of a daze.
“I got these for you. I hope they’re okay.” He slides the twine handles of the bag over my fingers and drags a hand down his face. “There’s underwear, too. I didn’t choose the underwear. Dr. Roberts did…for you, I mean. It’s all new, from the gift shop. Except I did put one of my T-shirts in there in case you preferred…uh, yeah, okay. I’m gonna…go. Over there.” He points to the bed, a beautiful pink blush peaking out from behind his stubble as he rushes away. While I’m thoroughly enjoying this flustered side of him, I think my plan to rattle him has backfired, because it’s only made him that much more appealing and impossible to let go.
Call it exhaustion or the fact that this man keeps making it incredibly hard not to fallhard, but my eyes are suddenly leaking, and I’m at risk of turning into a puddle right here on these chipped bathroom tiles. I nod my head, sniffing and rapidly blinking the tears away while pretending to peer into the bag.
Do not fall apart yet, Willow. At least wait until you’re alone.
“Thank you,” I manage over the knot in my throat, and then I promptly shut the door, fanning my flaming cheeks with my hand.
Damn you, Jack Jackson.I snort at the thought of his full name.
How am I not supposed to fall head over heels for him, even when the possibility of being rejected feels scarier than the prospect of tumbling into the canyon? He’s making all these sweet gestures, being all kind and protective, yet I can feel he’s still keeping himself guarded.
What happens if I leave tomorrow without this case getting solved? He keeps saying he wants to get past the case before thinking about a relationship, but there’s obviously more to itthan that. He’s still scared, afraid to take a risk…on me. And I won’t lie, it stings a little to think he doesn’t see me as beingworththe risk.
A yawn snaps me out of my internal processing, reminding me that Jack is probably just as exhausted and will want to use the shower soon. I take out the clothes he bought for me, rolling my lips when I hold up the oversized coral pink T-shirt with the words “I hiked the Grand Canyon, and all I got was this sore everything.”
There’s also a soft pair of navy sweatpants, a sports bra, underwear, toothbrush and toothpaste, and, because the universe enjoys keeping me humble, a two-pack of men’s cactus-print boxers. At the very bottom is a soft, white T-shirt that’ll fit me like a dress.
I bring it to my nose, nearly going catatonic at the rush of the delicious smell of Jack. Surely it means something that he put this in here. And wearing it gives me more opportunity to tease him, which is my new mandate in life. I pull on the sports bra, followed by his T-shirt and then the boxers, smiling like I’ve just claimed emotional ownership of this man via fabric. Those pain meds are doing a great job at the moment, because my arm only throbs a little during all my moving.
After brushing my teeth and aggressively towel drying my hair, I’m officially ready to pass out. There’s a stubborn part of me that’s hoping to get some Jack snuggles too, but if he’s already pulling away, the safest thing for my heart would be to follow his lead. He’s got another thing coming if he thinks I’m letting him sleep on the floor, though.
I zombie walk out of the bathroom, and Jack pops to stand from his perched position on the foot of the bed. Theonlybed.
I mean, it’s not like this would be the first time we shared a bed, right? Technically, it’d be our third, considering the time Islept smushed against him in a separate sleeping bag, which absolutely counts.
Jack swallows, his eyes trailing down over his shirt to where it falls mid-thigh on me. His attention seemingly shifts to my coral pink toenails as he runs a hand through his dark hair, and he clears his throat when he finally glances up and meets my amused expression.
“I’m, uh…gonna use the shower.” He points to the bathroom.
I stifle my grin, not wanting to embarrass him, even though seeing him flustered is the cutest thing ever. “Jack?”
“Yeah?” He turns, heat in his gaze.
“Don’t sleep on the floor. I’m gonna be out like a log the second my head hits the pillow, but you should sleep on the bed, too.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” I flash him a gentle smile, and even though I’m running on one-percent battery life, I just can’t help pushing his buttons. “While the very fact that you’d sleep on the floor just to make me feel safe is the swooniest thing ever, you’re a big guy, and it can’t be comfortable sleeping on a hard surface with all those already hard muscles.” I gesture with my palm, making a point of checking out his biceps. I’m beyond giddy at the flush that creeps up his neck.
He nods, apparently ignoring my comment, but inside I know there’s a laugh or at least a smile he’s holding hostage.
“Sleep on that side.” He points to the pillow farthest away from the door before hastily grabbing his duffel bag and disappearing into the bathroom.
My lips roll in when I hear him muttering behind the closed door. I climb under the covers on the side Jack indicated, releasing a sigh. I’m a deboned chicken, limp and unable to move. I should probably turn my phone on and update myparents and Hayley, but whatever I send is going to come out like a drunk text if I attempt any level of coherence right now.
The springy mattress jostles me awake as Jack sits, the other side of the bed dipping with his weight. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”
“That’s okay,” I whisper, scooting back a little but letting myself soak in this softer version of him—freshly showered in a loose white tank and gray sweatpants, all of his edges smoothed out. It’s a version of him I already want more of. It feels like a rare, unguarded glimpse, and the thought that tomorrow might be the last time I see him hits a little too hard.
I’m tired, and my heart is still begging to be guarded, yet I’m desperate to savor this remaining time with him. He grabs a throw blanket, and instead of climbing under the comforter—womp womp—he settles himself on top, exhaling as he reclines. He stares at the ceiling, his dark eyelashes brushing his cheeks.
