The man clenches his jaw and his nostrils flare, but he doesn’t seem angry with me. He wipes a hand down his face and mutters something that sounds like, “That won’t be a problem for long.”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, or if I heard him right, but I ignore it.
“Fine,” he says with a decisive tone. “If you won’t let me take you to a hospital, I’ll just have to patch you up myself.” I open and close my mouth, but in the end, I can’t protest. “Good. Lead the way to your place.”
We walk the last couple of blocks to my apartment in silence. When I reach the door of my ground-floor apartment, I unlock it and step inside. Turning around in the doorway, I give my bodyguard a hesitant look, still not sure about this whole situation.
He steps closer, though he’s not using his size to intimidate me. As the man slowly lifts his hand to my face, he pauses, silently asking permission to touch me. I nod, and he tucks a few strands of hair behind my ear before gently cupping the side of my face.
“You can trust me,” he whispers.
The thing is… I do trust him. As insane and naive as it might be, I’m filled with a sense of safety and belonging.
“I do,” I murmur, matching his soft tone.
Stepping aside, I let him into my apartment and close the door behind us. I twist my hands nervously in front of me as he performs the security check he was talking about earlier. I go to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit, pausing to stare at myself in the mirror.
Ouch.I do look a little rough, I’ll admit. I rinse off my face, getting rid of the dirt and grime. Taking a few moments to compose myself once more, I step outside and look around for my bodyguard.
It doesn’t take me long to find the giant man sitting on my couch. If I weren’t so scared and overwhelmed by everything that’s happened to me today, I might find it comical that his knees are nearly up to his ears as he crouches on my tiny loveseat.
He looks up as if sensing my presence, his hazel eyes roaming all around my face before he pats the spot next to him. I join the man on the couch and present him with the first aid kit, my hands shaking the entire time. He takes the plastic box and sets it aside before wrapping his much larger hands around mine. He rubs the pads of his thumbs across my knuckles, taking a few deep breaths, and silently urging me to do the same.
After a few moments of deep breathing, I feel a little more in control. No words pass between us, but they don’t have to. His actions show he already understands me more than anyone ever has.
My bodyguard works silently as he cleans the cuts and scrapes on my hands, arms, and face, putting bandages over the worst of them. When he’s done, he once again tucks my hair behind my ears, letting his fingers trail down my neck and slide over my shoulder.
“I’ll be standing post outside your front door all night, so you can sleep peacefully.”
“Please stay. I can’t ask you to stand outside when I have a perfectly good couch in here.”
We both look at the tiny loveseat, and then I take in his large frame, trying not to drool. I let out a soft laugh, just picturing him folding himself onto the small seat. He must be thinking the same thing.
“I’m not sure this would be any more comfortable than standing outside,” he jokes.
“I have extra blankets and pillows. I can make you a bed on the floor,” I suggest. He’s about to protest again, but I won’t let him. For some reason, the thought of him being on the other side of that door nearly sends me into a panic. “What if someone tries to sneak in my window? Shouldn’t you be inside so you can protect me?” I meant it as a way to convince him to stay, but now that I think about it, that is a truly terrifying thought. Before today, I’ve never been a very paranoid person. But after getting jumped in an alleyway, all of that has changed.
“Hey,” the man says soothingly. He seems to know I’m on the verge of a breakdown. “I’ll stay wherever you want me to; wherever you feel the safest.” The earnestness in his gaze lets me know he means every single word.
“Thank you,” I whisper, letting him see how much his presence means to me. It occurs to me we haven’t had a proper introduction. “What’s your name? I probably should’ve asked that before demanding you stay in my apartment,“ I tease.
“I’m Jackson Bennett,” he says, holding his hand out for me to shake.
“I’m Sage Makenzie, but I suppose you already know that.”
I shake his hand, noticing a flash of something across his features. It’s gone before I can dwell on it, but I store it away in the back of my mind. I want to trust him, and I already do, more than I should. Still, growing up the way I did, I have a healthy dose of cynicism.
“I’ll grab the extra blankets and a pillow–” a yawn overtakes me, breaking off my sentence.
“Why don’t you point me in the right direction, and I can get myself all set up?“ I start to shake my head, but he insists. “You’ve been through a lot today, Sage. Get some rest, and I’ll take care of myself.“
Hearing my name falling from his lips shouldn’t have a shiver of desire running down my spine, but it’s there all the same. I nod before letting out another yawn, and I see a brief smile curl up one side of Jackson’s lips.
I hardly remember going into my bedroom or putting on pajamas before crashing onto the mattress and rolling up in my blankets. As the heavy darkness of sleep wraps itself around me, the last thing I think about is that I feel safer than I have in my entire life.
4
JACKSON
