The last part of his statement hit me harder than I expected. I hadn’t pegged Jackson for the type of guy who would say something deep or vulnerable. Not that I didn’t love hearing it, because I did. The butterflies that erupted in my belly proved as much.
“Wow, I honestly just thought you were going to make a comment on my boobs or my ass.”
“Did I say too much?”
“Not at all,” I answered honestly.
“Good. Because I didn’t even know I was going to say all that.” He unlocked my door, and we stepped inside. “Now it’s your turn.” He dropped the keys on the counter and hoisted me up next to them, stepping between my legs.
“What do I like about you? Hmmm….” I tapped my lips as if I were seriously contemplating the answer. “You’re illegally hot.”
“Illegally hot?” He laughed. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re too good-looking, but I guess I can live with it.”
“Poor you,” he said, playfully digging his fingers into my waist and making me squirm.
“What else? Ummm… well, our early interactions weren’t great, but once you got used to the idea of me being around, you eased up and gave me a glimpse of a side of you I’m sure you don’t show many people. And when I’m around you, I feel safe, safer than I’ve felt in a long time, maybe even ever.”
A look of peace crossed his features. “I do want to protect you, Sophie. Sometimes from myself, but mostly from anything bad happening to you.”
I was going to let part of his comment slide, but my curiosity got the better of me. “What do you mean from yourself? Do you think you’d hurt me?”
“I don’t know.” My widened eyes had him stammering over his next words. “No… not like… I don’t want to say… fuck!” He huffed several times before continuing. “Sorry, let me try and explain. I would never lay a hand on you in anger. And I would never intentionally do anything to hurt you. But sometimes I can be….” His voice trailed off as he briefly looked past me. “Sometimes I can be a lot to handle. I’m moody, temperamental, according to Trevor, and can sometimes be oblivious to other people’s feelings. Not to mention I’m struggling with some new feelings where you’re concerned.”
“Is that good or bad?”
The downturn of his mouth made me straighten my posture in preparation that his answer would be something I didn’t want to hear.
“It’s both.”
“Okayyyy…” I said, elongating the two-syllable word. “You’re going to have to explain before I think the worst.” I kept my tone light, but inside I started freaking out a little.
He stroked the tops of my thighs in a calming gesture.
“It’s good for me because I haven’t cared about anyone like this, probably ever, but it’s not so hot for you because it means I might become unbearable if there is ever a situation that’ll make me jealous.”
“You did warn me beforehand,” I joked. Even though he’d been open and honest about his jealousy, that wouldn’t excuse him if he reacted poorly whenever he felt threatened. But I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, concocting scenarios that might never occur.
“I did. But I don’t want to end up pushing you away because of my intensity.” His brows scrunched, appearing as if he was seconds away from shutting down. I wanted to keep our conversation flowing as long as possible, so I shifted to talking about something I wasn’t particularly interested in divulging yet.
“All I ask is that you always be honest with me. Don’t play mind games. Say what you mean, no matter if you think your words are going to upset me. Don’t say anything that will purposely hurt my feelings or anything, but be honest.” I took a beat before continuing. “My ex would say one thing but then do another. He was constantly assessing me to see if I’d passed some test of his I didn’t even know about. He’d gaslight me afterward and call me crazy when I’d react to something he set up.”
“Like what?” he asked.
“There were so many situations that kept me on edge, but that’s what he wanted. It was little things, big things. Something as minute as him telling me to wear a certain outfit to go out to dinner, but then if any guy happened to look in my direction, he’d blame me for flaunting myself. When I’d remind him he was the one who picked out the outfit, he’d say he merely suggested it, but I was the one who chose it. Or if he asked me to make something specific for dinner, and I did, he’d get angry and toss the plate on the ground, telling me he told me he wantedsomething else, which wasn’t true. If I tried to correct him, he’d start yelling, getting up in my face and asking why I was calling him a liar. I’d apologize and say that I misheard him, and only then would he back off.”
I took a deep, shuddery breath before continuing. “It sounds stupid, but those types of things happened all the time, and over the years, I’d allowed him to wear me down. I walked around on eggshells, his mood predicting mine. And no matter how often I tried to please him, to be ‘easy,’” I said, gesturing in air quotes, “nothing was ever good enough. And the most confusing thing of all was that he wasn’t always like that. Many times, he was loving, funny, charming, making me feel cherished and valued. So, when he would turn on me, I often blamed myself.” I stopped speaking, waiting for Jackson to add to the conversation, but he didn’t, stretching the silence until it became uncomfortable. “Please say something,” I whispered, touching his arm.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Sophie,” he said, his voice strained as if he struggled to hold back his anger. “And I promise to be straightforward with you. I’m not a man who plays games or gets off on hurting women in any way.” He stepped closer, resting his hands on the top of my thighs. “Can I ask what made you finally leave?”
It was inevitable that I’d have to talk about that horrific day. I gently pushed him back and hopped off the counter, needing space.
“I found out I was pregnant. I was thrilled because I’ve always wanted kids, and I thought he did too. We talked about it often, and he promised me one day we could start a family. But when I told him, he was angry, and he told me to get rid of it. I refused, and two weeks later, I ended up in the hospital because he’d pushed me down the steps. He tried to convince me that I tripped, but he pushed me. The fall caused the miscarriage,” I said, my heart splitting in two as if the tragedy had justhappened. “And for as sick as this might sound, the person I was then might’ve been able to forgive him, but it was the evil smile on his face when he'd heard I’d lost the baby that made me see him as the monster he truly is. A few days later, I left and moved in with my dad and sister.”
Unshed tears blurred my vision, and I prayed this wasn’t too heavy for Jackson. I didn’t know what I’d do if he backed away from me now. He responded by pulling me into his embrace.
“I’m so sorry.” He tightened his arms around me. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated. “But you’re free now, and I’ll never let anything bad happen to you again.”
