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“I almost died and that makes you feel guilty, so you’re here to mother me?” I snarl at him, shove him back where he’s sat down on the bed beside me. “Fuck you. Leave me alone, just—” I shove at him again, and just that burst of exertion makes me light-headed. Panting, I let my hand drop.
“I need to check the dressing on that wound,” Ashton says, matter-of-factly. “Change it for you.”
“I got it. Don’t need your help.”
“Jax—”
“No. You don’t get a say in this because, you know what? I needed your help when I was a kid at your father’s court, being tormented and starved and whipped, but you didn’t lift a finger to help me then, so I don’t need your help now. I survived, no thanks to you. So fuck you.” I try to shove at him again but fuck, I’m falling again.
“Dammit, Jax.” Strong arms go around me, pinning my arms to my sides. “Just… fucking stop. I’m sorry. Fucking sorry. I couldn’t help you then, and if you don’t want to believe I tried, fine. But let me help you now, you bastard. Give me a second chance.”
I’m breathing hard. Can’t catch my breath. He’s not holding me too tight, just tight enough to make me feel it, feel the embrace. I don’t like enclosed spaces but his hold doesn’t make me feel imprisoned. I shouldn’t like a guy holding me, but I do…
Fuck, I do, I need this, I crave this, I can’t… can’t get enough.
Slowly I raise my arms and put them around him. I haven’t had enough gentle touches in my life, haven’t had enough hugs, and I told myself I don’t need them, don’t fucking want them, but now that he’s pressed to me like this, keeping me in the protective circle of his arms, telling me he wants to help me, I fucking can’t.
Can’t stop it.
Can’t stop my defenses from falling, my need for this crashing over everything else, old hurts and resolutions. And for the first time since I found him here, at the school, I wonder if he’s telling the truth after all…
Eventually, he relaxes his hold on me, starting to pull away, and though I don’t wanna, I have to let go, too. I become aware of the burn in my eyes, the wetness on my face.
Hell.
When his thumb wipes under my eye I flinch away. “Stop it.”
“You really are like a wild animal,” he mutters. “Let me—”
“Fuck you and your condescendence.”
“I apologize.”
His words catch me by surprise—again. It’s the second time he’s apologized since he entered my room. “Ash—”
“I’ve been playing this arrogant role for so long sometimes I think I’ve forgotten how to be a decent person.”
Fuck. What do you say to that? The anger recedes, leaving me empty and shaky. I sort of always knew that Ashton couldn’t have helped me back then, but he’s the only person from my past and I had to direct my fury somewhere. Why…? Why am I only realizing it now?
What will I do without my anger? I’ll fall to the ground, like a puppet with its strings cut. I can’t fucking afford it… But right now I can’t find the heat in me anymore, the urge to lash out and cover up the emptiness I feel inside.
Maybe, I think, it’s because he’s still stroking my jaw, my neck, the touch featherlight, his gaze on my face, as if trying to read me. His ring is cool where it touches my skin.
I push his hand away. Another touch like that and I’ll shatter. “What do you want?”
“Well…” He seems to give this some thought. “We have to talk about the attack, about so many things. Later. Tomorrow. But first you need to rest, get better. No more practice until you heal.”
“Sure, mom,” I mutter.
Ashton grins and it does strange things to my insides. “Don’t make me lash you to the bed.”
A wisp of anger returns and I try to get up, get away from him. “Nobody gets to lash me to anything again.”
“Fuck, sorry. Sorry, Jax.” He lifts his hands. Sighs. “I’m an idiot. Sometimes I wonder if I have a brain. Maybe it just isn’t connected to my mouth.”
I sag. “What do you want from me?” I whisper.
“To let me take care of you. Is that too much to ask?”
