For years, I held onto those words. I might as well have etched them into my bones. For the longest time, I made being strong my entire identity, and now I don’t know how to exist in the moments when my strength leaves me.
Jaxon’s thumb glides back and forth over my knuckles, and I momentarily forget how to breathe. I’ve never liked being touched, but it feels different when Jaxon touches me. It’s like my body is attuned to him and him alone. It’s beyond all reason or sense.
His gentleness grounds me, and I give myself permission to let go. That’s when I feel the first fissure forming in the wall I've built around my heart. It’s small, barely more than a splinter, but enough to weaken my resolve.
“Ok,” I say on a sigh. “Just this once.”
He picks up the spoon. “We’ll see.”
I let Jaxon feed me the rest of the soup, then settle back into the corner of the sofa. He tucks the blanket around me, his hand sliding down my arm.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He removes the evidence of my breakfast and gives me a half-hearted smile. “Get some rest while I clean up.”
I nod sleepily, and whatever fight I had left dissipates.
Jaxon
Callie is sleeping contentedly when I return from the kitchen, her soft breaths escaping through slightly parted lips. Her fever has gone down, and she doesn’t look as pale as she did when I found her. Careful not to jostle her too much, I scoopher into my arms and carry her down the darkened hallway. I pause between her room and mine, longing to lay her in my bed.
That would be too dangerous. It’s easily recognizable from my online content. It must’ve been too dark to see much of anything the other night, or surely she would’ve said something.
With a resigned sigh, I transfer the sleeping beauty to her bed, drawing back the blankets and draping them over her body.
After a brief moment of indecision, I press my lips to her forehead and settle on top of the covers on the opposite side of the bed. We’re close enough to touch, but she still feels miles away.
Sometime later, Callie rolls over in her sleep and burrows into me like a contented kitten. Heat radiates off her body, and she’s a bit clammy to the touch, but I don’t have the heart to move her.
She hums and nuzzles her cheek against my chest as she begins to stir. “Mm. You smell good.”
A quiet laugh bubbles out of me. “Hey there, beautiful. How did you sleep?”
She glances up at me through sleepy eyes. “How did I get here?”
“I carried you,” I say matter-of-factly. “You were on the other side at first, but you just couldn’t resist me.”
She rolls her eyes and starts to move away.
“I didn’t say I wasn’t enjoying it. Stay.”
“I feel gross,” she grumbles. “I need to shower. Or maybe a bath. I don’t think standing is a good idea.”
“I think we can manage that. Bubbles or no bubbles?”
“What kind of question is that?” she says with mock indignation. “Bubbles. Always.”
“Stay here. I’ll get your bath ready and come back for you.”
She doesn’t argue with me this time, and it feels like I won a goddamn prize.
Atticus curls up on the bath mat while I run the warm water and pour in a generous amount of her favorite floral-scented bubble bath. I trail back to the bedroom to find Callie sitting on the edge of the bed, typing out a text on her phone.
“The bath is almost ready.”
“Ok. Thanks.” She sets her phone on the nightstand. “I was just postponing the double date with Mo.”
An overwhelming sense of relief washes over me, and it takes all of my self-restraint not to fist pump the air. With any luck, they won’t bother rescheduling.
