Settled by her breath in the dark and too comfortable to move, he tumbled back into the misty clouds of sleep, with Leah’s hand over his heart and her knee against his thigh.
When he was woken by the ringing of his phone, the room had lightened and it was morning; the space beside him was empty again. Automatically Jackson answered the call, the cramping of his stomach reminding him that two Ritz crackers was all the food he’d had in thirty-six hours.
“Yes?” He scraped the palm of his hand against the stubble on his chin. Damn, he needed a shower and a shave.
Natalia had a list of questions on some drawings he’d asked for. Head heavy, thoughts dull, Jackson swung his legs over the edge of the mattress and pushed himself to standing. He took a step toward the window, looking out over the vast backyard as he tried in vain to kickstart his business brain. A dull thump flared in the base of his neck and his stomach roiled again. In the end, Jackson cut across her.
“Natalia, you’ll have to give me a minute. Can I call you back?” He hung up without waiting for an answer.
A movement in the doorway caught him by surprise. Leah’s dark eyes were fixed on his face, all-knowing and all-seeing.
“The water will be hot,” she said. “Do you think you can manage a shower?”
Jackson nodded, not entirely convinced but prepared to sell his soul to feel clean again.
“Why don’t you do that and I’ll make some breakfast? There’s fresh towels in the cupboard on the landing.”
He nodded again. It seemed his limited strength lay in silent communication this morning.
Bracing himself against the tiles with one arm, legs shaky, Jackson ducked his head under the warm torrent and washed the slick of sickness and sweat from his skin in quiet bliss. A squeeze of shower gel was enough to soap up his hair and swipe under his arms before his stamina deserted him. He rinsed and shut off the water.
Get your act in gear, Jackson told himself as he brushed his teeth.
Pull yourself together, as he tugged on clean shorts and a fresh t-shirt, fragile as a day-old kitten.
Stop being pathetic. Just fucking get on with it.
Back in the bedroom, he saw Leah had stripped the bed and remade it with clean sheets. He wanted to climb under the covers so much he could hardly breathe. Instead, he sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress and buried his head in his hands, willing the jangling neurons in his brain to settle down. Long minutes ticked by; he couldn’t bring himself to move.
“Hey, Jax.” Leah entered the room, carrying a tray so full he wondered how she’d gotten it up the stairs. He struggled to his feet as she laid it on the dresser. “Now, I’m gonna say this super-fast before the pancakes get cold. I want you to listen and then you can shout at me later.” He saw nerves in the look she flashed him but the lift of her chin was defiant. “I called your office—”
“You did what?” He was genuinely stunned.
“I spoke with Natalia. Who is absolutely lovely, by the way. You’re so lucky to have her on your team.” Leah beamed, momentarily distracted. “Anyway, I explained how sick you were yesterday and I told her...” She swallowed. “... you need to take one more day to recover and that you will be back in contact again tomorrow, if you feel up to it. Natalia says there’s nothing on the schedule today that’s too urgent for her to handle, Oliver is on top of everything in the office and he’ll speak to Rufus as well. She’ll only call if something comes up that none of them can deal with. And she hopes you feel better soon.”
Leah’s eyes, as warm and dark as heated molasses, held his and she waited.
He should be furious. Jackson opened his mouth and closed it again.
Something in her face softened and Leah pulled back the covers. “Get in,” she told him. And he did. The relief was huge; the sheets smelled like heaven.
Leah brought the tray to the bed, laid it on his lap, and perched next to him. “I brought enough for two so you have to share.” She removed an upturned bowl from a dinner plate to reveal a stack of warm pancakes. “My specialty and my weakness. I didn’t know what you’d want so I brought toast and fruit, too. Caffeine’s out for now, so there’s juice instead.” Leah picked up one of the plump pancakes and bit into it. “Don’t wait too long or you’ll miss out.”
“You’re something else,” he told her.
“I know.” She reached across him to snag a slice of banana.
Jackson tore off a piece of pancake. “These are so good.”
“One of the only things I can make without a recipe—thanks to Esther and Hazel.” She chewed thoughtfully. “Tell me more about your family. Esther was full of stories about you and your brother when you were small. And Atherton, too. Your grandad sounded lovely.”
“I don’t remember him much. He died when I was very young. But if I ever smell tomatoes, the proper warm smell of fresh-grown tomatoes under glass, I see his face in my mind. He loved his greenhouse.” He smiled at the memory, then frowned. “I guess Dad got his coloring more from my grandmother’s side of the family because they didn’t look alike.”
“Who did your brother look like?”
Jackson’s eyes slid away from her, toward the window. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “He looked like me.”
“Some people have all the luck.” His chest rose and fell on a gruff laugh which held no humor. “Tell me about him,” Leah prompted.
