I cry-chuckled, shaking my head and closing my eyes. My chin wobbled, and I tried to breathe through the residual adrenaline leaving my system. What a roller coaster of a day.
Jackson sat on the bed, still cradling me, his lips pressed to the top of my head. And that’s when I realized his heart was galloping. I tried to lean back so I could see his face, but he was holding me too tight.
“Jackson, hey. You’re holding me too tight.”
His arms loosened but his heart didn’t slow. I managed to lean back, holding his jaw between my hands, wanting to force his eyes to mine. They were dark and wild, not meeting mine.
“Jackson? Are you okay?”
He nodded, his throat working. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve seen—” he paused, managing a swallow. But when he spoke next his voice was tight. “In my line of work, I’ve seen some things. And when I came in, you looked—and you were on the ground in just a towel, crying, and I thought—” His attention lifted to the ceiling. “Sorry.”
I stared at him, both wanting and not wanting to know what he thought. In the end, I didn’t ask.
I twisted my arms around his neck and held him back. “I’m fine. I promise. I heard Sienna in the room, and it freaked me out. That’s it, that’s all. I’m not hurt.”
He nodded, his arms wrapping around my back. “You were crying because you were scared?”
“Yes. Before I moved into my place in Hollywood Hills, I had a—an intruder come into my bedroom while I was in the shower. I heard him moving around. It brought all that back.”
Jackson seemed to stop breathing. “What happened?” he asked.
“I hid in the bathroom and plugged in a curling iron. He got tired of waiting for me to come out, and when he opened the door, I whacked him in the face with the iron, burning him, then I kicked him in the balls, then I ran out of my place into the street and screamed for help.”
Jackson expelled a breath, pressing a kiss to my neck. “Thank God. Thank God you got away.”
Something about the sound of his voice sent a ripple of unease up my neck, like he’d been a witness to an alternate ending and knew what happened—or what might’ve happened—had I not battled my way out of the bathroom.
We held each other for a short moment, and I barely had a chance to reflect on what I’d said and his reaction to it before he twisted and deposited me to the bed. He then stood, paced to the windows, and checked behind the curtain.
He mumbled something that sounded like, “I left you on that boat.”
“What was that?”
“These windows are locked,” he said, his voice louder. “But I don’t like how big they are.”
I held the towel at my chest, frowning at his back. “Maybe they should have bars.”
“Maybe . . .”
I made a scoffing sound, my blood pressure rising to an unmanageable level for the second time that night. He can’t be serious. “Jackson, no. They don’t need bars, and they’re not too big. The windows are fine. And I’m fine.”
He turned, his hands on his hips. I flinched, shocked by how he was looking at me, like I was a problem to solve. This was the first time he’d ever looked at me like that. It pissed me off, but it also hurt.
“Rae. The door was unlocked and open. The alarm was off.”
“Because Sienna was walking into her carriage house, on her property, which she owns.” Was he treating me like a child? Or was I imagining it?
“But what if it hadn’t been Sienna? Where are Dave and Miguel?” Jackson flung his hand toward the bedroom door, his tone anything but polite. “You’re not safe here.”
“I am safe here, and you are overreacting.”
This statement seemed to only irritate and inflame him, and when he spoke next it was through clenched teeth. “No. You are not safe. You need more guards. Or—or you need to leave. You need to go back to LA.”
I gaped at him, feeling like he’d just slapped me. “You want me to go back to LA?”
“Yes. Dave says your house out there is a fortress. You should at least think about it. You’d be safer there than here. You should—”
“I don’t want to go back to LA.”
“You should—”
“Don’t tell me what I should do!” I said, my voice rising before I could control the volume. I stood from the bed. “I decide what I should do! I am responsible for me, not Harrison, not Domino, not my mother, and definitely not you!”
Now I was yelling. Great. Just great.
Jackson snapped his mouth shut and glared at me, the set of his jaw stern and severe. He said nothing.
I closed my eyes. I breathed in. I breathed out. I was so tired. And my nerves were rattled. And my emotions felt like one giant raw nerve. Now was not the time to discuss this.
“Listen, it’s been a long night. I think it would be best for us to table this conversation until morning, after a good night’s sleep.”
I opened my eyes and found him still glaring at me.
“Jackson?”
“You’re sleeping here tonight?” he asked.
“Yes.” I inspected him, looking for a crack in his armor. He looked infuriated. But behind the fury, I sensed fear. “Will you stay with me?” I asked, trying to gentle my voice but instead ended up sounding impatient and cranky. Great. Just great.
“Is that what you want?” he asked, his jaw ticking. “Since, you know, I don’t get a say.”
I barely, just barely refrained from rolling my eyes. “You do get a say in what you do. You do not get a say in what I do. I’m my own person, Jackson. I make my own decisions; I do not need you or anyone else making them with me or for me.” I repeated the words my mother had said to me countless times. I was my own person, I was responsible for myself and my decisions. Me. Only me. Obviously.
Now he flinched, like I’d slapped him. But then he nodded, his eyes dropping, his features hardening further. “I see.”
Something icy and uncertain slithered through me, settling in my stomach and making my chest feel hard and heavy. He was upset. I was upset. And I didn’t know how to make either of us not upset. More words didn’t seem likely to help, so I stepped forward, reaching for him.
He took a step back, out of my reach.
My hand dropped, and so did my stomach. “Jackson—”
“I’ll just get out of here so you can change,” he said, tossing his thumb over his shoulder before turning and walking for the door.
“Wait.” This was dumb. What were we even fighting about? I darted over to where he was and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my chest to his back. “You don’t need to leave. Stay. Stay and be with me.”
He didn’t touch me, and his body felt so stiff and distant. “I need a minute,” he said quietly. “But I’ll be back.”
Letting my arms slide away, I watched him leave the room. Without looking back, he shut the door behind him.
Chapter 26
*Jackson*
“I wasn’t a sex symbol, I was a sex zombie.”
Veronica Lake