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Curling around the curtain that shielded the bed from the light in the hall, I took in the sight of him starting at his toes. His legs looked so small and thin under the stack of blankets. His arms were laid flat at his sides, and the name tag around his wrist was a size too big. There were no visible signs of his wounds. I took another step and lifted my eyes to his face. He wasn’t pale anymore. He looked like he was sleeping, an oxygen tube tucked under his nose.
“Jack?” I croaked. “Can you hear me?”
He didn’t stir, but the wavy line on the machine to his right, and the steady rise and fall of his chest, told me he was alive. I touched his hand and the vision of his death rose from the depths of my mind. I braced for the impact, but then it hit the wall of memories I’d created and dissipated. I squeezed his fingers and let myself cry.
“You’re warm,” I said. “I was so scared you’d be cold. Oh, God, Jack. Please open your eyes. I want to tell you so much. I want to tell you how much I love you and that you were right. You were always right. I never should have doubted you. I never should have pushed you away. I love you so much. Please, please, be okay.”
“I love you t—” Jackson started to cough.
“Jack!” I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. “Thank God, you’re alright. I was so scared.”
He groaned between kisses. “Ouch.”
“Oh, shit.” I scrambled back off the bed. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No, stay. It’s okay. I’m okay. Come back here.” He pouted.
A sob spasmed through my chest and I pressed a hand to my mouth. “Oh, Jack.”
“I feel like I’ve been run over by a semi, but I’m okay,” he said. “What happened? The last thing I remember is…is…the shifter pointing a gun at you and then pain. A lot of pain.”
“The shifter tricked us. She dressed up like Ingrid and we fought her. You jumped in front of the bullet for me. I tried to save you, but it didn’t work and—it was so bad. I was so scared. Jack, I thought you were dead.”
He frowned, holding out his hand. “Were you hurt?”
I shivered, lacing my fingers through his. His warmth radiated into my bones, melting the tension along my spine.
“You’re not wearing any gloves,” he said.
I smiled. “No, I’m not.”
He tried to pull his hand from mine. “There have to be latex gloves around here somewhere.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ve been meditating and…and after everything, I need to feel you.” I clasped his hand tighter with both of mine.
His eyes narrowed. “What do you see when you touch me? I know it’s different, but—”
I froze and started down at the blanket. “It doesn’t matter what I see. It’ll never happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just rest. You need to rest,” I said, massaging the muscles in his hand.
He rolled his eyes and pulled me closer. “So stubborn.”
“Always,” I said. “But, Jack. There’s something I have to say before you go to sleep.”
His eyelids sagged closed, and he sighed. “What?”
“I love you.”
His lips turned up in a smile. “I know.”
21
Safe Haven
Jackson slept for the better part of three days. He’d open his eyes, say a few words, and then start snoring again moments later. He needed rest. Isaac promised that the surgery had been successful, Jackson’s energy levels were just too low for him to heal and stay awake at the same time.
