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“You can cry if you want. There’s no one here but me. You can let go. You don’t always have to hold on so tight.”
I want to cry. I need to. The sob is about to rip its way out of my body, but it just can’t seem to find its way. It’s killing me, but I can’t seem to release it. I gasp and shake so much my teeth are chattering.
Jackson adjusts his hold so he can stroke my hair and back with one of his hands. “Shit, kitten. You’re killing me here. You can be invulnerable with everyone else, but you don’t have to be invulnerable here. Not here. Not with me.”
The sob finally makes its way through the block in my throat. Then to my eyes. And I’m suddenly crying uncontrollably. Helplessly. Like I haven’t cried since I was sixteen years old.
“It’s okay,” Jackson murmurs soft and urgent. He’s holding on to me tightly again as I sob against his chest. “It’s okay, kitten. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
It’s what I need to hear. And exactly the way I need to hear it. I cry about all of it. All of what I’ve lost. Every person I’ve loved. How whatever is left for me can be taken away at any moment. And how there’s nothing I can do to stop it from happening.
But also how there’s so much more than the brokenness. Something I’d almost forgotten.
Jackson keeps holding me. Keeps murmuring thick assurances. He’s had a day from hell too, but he doesn’t try to pull away. Roll over and go to sleep.
Maybe in an unexpected way, Jackson needs this too.
It’s a thought that comforts me as the sobs finally die down and I’m sniffing and shaking with a few lingering whimpers.
Even then, he keeps his arms around me. And they’re still around me when I finally fall asleep.
***
I SLEEP THE ENTIREnight with him, waking just before dawn. He’s still asleep. He rolled over onto his back sometime during the night, and he’s stretched out with his lips slightly parted and one arm slung up over his head.
Every part of my body seems to ache, but I feel a lot better than I did the day before. My candle is still burning on the table. I shouldn’t have let it go all night. Candles are one thing we’re not short on, but it’s still a waste.
Jackson opens his eyes when I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. “Hey,” he rasps.
“Hey.” I feel strangely shy, which is ridiculous.
“Is it time to get up?”
“Just about.” When he keeps watching me, like he’s waiting for me to say something, I clear my throat. “Thank you. For last night, I mean.”
“You’re welcome. But you don’t have to thank me for that.”
“It feels like I do. It really helped. I...” I can’t quite meet his eyes.
It feels like his body gets suddenly tense. Expectant. “You what?”
“I needed it,” I admit.
He relaxes. Nods. Mumbles, “I did too.”
That feels like enough. Like an explanation for what happened last night. It makes me feel less self-conscious as I stand up and head back to my room.
***
WE FALL BACK INTO Aroutine for the next week. We have to do it without Brett and Molly, but losing people isn’t new to us. Our lives mold into a slightly different shape without them. I don’t cry again, but I miss Molly every time I walk by the sick room.
Ham acquitted himself so well at the attempted Wolf Pack attack that Jackson gives him Brett’s place in one of the bunk rooms. Molly’s bed gets filled too. There are no further sightings of Wolf Packs in the area—even when we go out on supply runs.
Maybe they’ve all gotten killed or migrated too, just like so many others.
After a couple of days, I check the drop spot and find a note that says if we still want to donate farming supplies, Mack could meet us the following week. I leave a response saying we’ll be there.
Jackson doesn’t grumble about the extra trip or the donations, but I can’t tell if that’s because he’s happy to do it or not. He’s been quiet and gentle with me since that night I fell apart. Maybe he thinks I’m too weak to cut it, but he doesn’t even argue with me much anymore.
