Page 37 of Dirty Fighter

I tip my head to see him. “Thank y-you.”

Illuminated by the storm, he’s all heavy lines and dark shadows. The tiny creases around his eyes and accumulation of small scars born in the last ten years have been erased by the night, making him look almost like the boy from a lifetime ago.

When the next boom sounds, I feel it, but not like before.

Jason’s hold loosens. “You okay if I turn on the lights?”

“Yes, please,” I whisper, the heat of embarrassment warming my cheeks. “Just for a minute.”

Just long enough for me to find my sweater and move out to the living room so the poor guy can get some sleep.

He nods, his eyes still locked with mine through the bits of darkness breaking up more lightning than I can count the distance of the storm through.

Not that I need to. It’s on top of us.

Jason shifts, leaning around me to the lamp on the corner nightstand.

Click, click.

My stomach drops.

His chest rises and falls against my shoulder with his heavy sigh. “Power’s out.”

I swallow hard, nodding into the darkness. “It’s fine. Just a storm.”

Lines go down. It happens.

But even as I try to talk myself into a rational headspace about it… it’s like I can feel the rain needling against my arms, the cold and the⁠—

“Hey, you’re shivering.” Strong hands, warm and wide, rub gently over my arm, smoothing away the chill of fear pebbling my skin with the physical reminder that I’m not alone. I’m safe.

“I’m okay, really.” I climb out of bed to show us both how fine I am.

Jason nods, reaching for the blanket.

Forcing my feet to move, I round the bed, figuring I’ll wait out the storm in the living room. Only before I’ve even made it to the hall, he’s there… wrapping the comforter from the bed around my shoulders.

“Let me go first.” He gives my arm a reassuring squeeze before catching my hand as he steps past. “I can literally make my way through this place with my eyes closed. Gramps used to make a game of it when I was a kid.”

He leads the way down the hall and into the living room.

There’s more light in here with the picture window and fewer trees blocking the sky, but he holds my hand until I tuck myself into the corner of the couch across from the hearth.

“Okay?” he asks, before letting me go.

“Yes. Thank you. I’m good. You should go to bed.”

Instead of replying, he moves to the fireplace and crouches low to set the wood and tinder. “The power will probably be on by morning, but at least with a fire you’ll be able to see better and stay warm.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.”

He pauses, the broad expanse of his tapered back rising with a heavy breath. “Yes, I do.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes me want to ask what he means.

But then he’s striking the match, and I’m riveted by the kaleidoscope of red, white, and yellow coalescing into a flame.

Soon, a fire blazes to life, and Jason stands in front of the amber glow. He looks over his shoulder at me. “Few minutes, and we’ll have some heat.”