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Gabe and Effie arrived at the house, announced by a chime from the new cameras. I peeked at the screen then ran downstairs to let them in.
We climbed the spiral stone stairs.
“Has Raph spoken to Jackson this afternoon?” my older brother asked.
“Not that I heard, why?”
“There was a knifeman at Leo’s appearance today. Jackson intervened.”
I stopped dead.
“What happened? Was he hurt?” Raphael demanded from the stairwell above.
Gabe squeezed past me and finished the journey. “Gordain said not. He caught the arsehole before he got close. No one was injured.”
My shoulders slumped.
My brothers jogged on up, talking.
Still on the stairs, Effie tilted her head at me. “Ye okay there?”
“Yes, sorry. Go on up. I’ll just be a minute.” Without making eye contact, which would give away the effects of my racing heart, I disappeared back down and sat on a stair, taking out my phone.
Ariel: Are you all right?
If he’d been messed up by it, he wouldn’t come tonight. I wouldn’t get to see him. Raph wouldn’t leave.
It was only concerns for his safety that bothered me. Practical stuff on behalf of my brother who cared about him. Nothing more.
His reply didn’t keep me waiting long, though it felt like an eternity.
Jackson: I’m outside. Let me in?
My heart leapt, and I flew down the remaining steps, throwing open the door, though I kept well back from being seen.
There he was, pink-cheeked from the cold, a sports bag on his back and his gaze fixed on me. Jackson entered, kicking the door closed behind him.
Neither of us spoke.
Hunger. The sense overtook me. That and relief.
He advanced on me, muscles locked, his gaze on my lips.
I took an instinctive step backwards. “Camera.”
Jackson stopped short, and his gaze darted to the new installation over our heads.
God.If he’d been about to kiss me, I would burn up in flames.
Footsteps drummed above us.
“Jax,” my brother yelled.
In a heartbeat, he was there and drawing his friend into a backslapping hug.
Raphael peered at Jackson’s face. “Gabe was just telling me what ye did, diving on stage to tackle a knife-wielding fan. Holy shite, ye fucking madman.”
He guided Jackson upstairs, taking all his attention with him. But as he passed, my brother’s best friend caught my hand in his. Brushed over my fingers.
