Leaning my weight against Jackson is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
“Please take me home,” I beg, voice cracking on my plea.
Jackson guides me into the parking lot towards his waiting G-Wagon. My brain is so scrambled that I don’t remember my mother and Honey until he’s buckling me into the passenger seat. A moment later, my worried-looking mother appears at the door. Her perfectly manicured finger taps the window in a silent request for me to roll it down. Great. Awesome. Superb.
Jackson quietly places Honey into the back seat, busily buckling her into the seat harness under the pretense of not eavesdropping on our conversation. But I know he’s listening, and I honestly don’t care.
I roll the window down.
“Hello,” I say curtly.
Mom clears her throat awkwardly, eyes darting from the back seat to me. “Jackson is going to take you home. Maybe we can do lunch another day?”
“Sure,” I agree, not meaning it at all.
Her painted-on smile flickers, but she stands up straighter, preparing herself for war.
“I love you, Harp.” Her voice trembles just a little, making me feel like a total asshole. My eyes close tight when she leans into the window to press a barely there kiss to my cheek.
She disappears out of sight, no doubt into her own vehicle to return to her fancy office downtown. Honey whines and licks her lips, just in time for Jackson to climb into the driver’s seat with a pinched look on his beautiful face. As he pulls out of the parking lot, I reach across the console to tangle our fingers together. His are so warm against my own, a lifeblood when everything inside me is painfully cold. Sometimes, I feel like I’m rotting inside, but since Jackson came into my life, everything has gained color and life. He’s brought life to me again, brought beauty, brought hope.
I’m in love with him. The realization is so startling, so terrifying, that I’m momentarily afraid I might go into cardiac arrest. Instead, my body grips his fingers tighter without any input from my own toxic brain. In the raging storm of my life, my abject misery, Jackson is an anchor that keeps me from floating away on the dangerous waves.
The house is silent as he helps me inside, as if knowing my body is weak with exhaustion. With his large palms on my thin shoulders, he guides me towards the sofa. I fall onto thecushions like a rag doll, letting him cover me with blankets. My eyes feel disconnected from my body as I watch him fill Honey’s bowl with fresh water and then grab a rawhide from the bags of treats he brought over and left a few days ago.
For a moment, I worry he’s mad at me because of the way his shoulders are tense, almost to his ears. But then he drops to a squat between my legs, places his hands on my forearms, and gently rubs my skin back to life. Shoulders tense, eyes boring into me, he’s the picture of pure pain. Just the sight of him on his knees before me has my heart pounding in my ears, the tips of my fingers tingling with the urge to touch him.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the brain scan?” Jackson asks firmly, not giving me a chance for an out.
“I don’t like you seeing me that way,” I admit, cringing at the shake in my voice.
“What way?”
I swallow hard. “Weak.”
“Harper,” Jackon says, out of breath. His fingers tug at my shirt roughly. “I have never wanted anyone as much as I want you. No, want is the wrong word. Need. Making you laugh, smile, even roll your eyes at me is my life’s fucking mission. Don’t you get it, punk? I’m fucking in love with you. Every goddamn thing about you. I worship the ground you walk on. My world doesn’t start spinning for the day until I taste your sweet mouth. You’re perfect to me. Do you get it now? Huh?”
All the blood rushes from my heart, leaving me dizzy. The world returns, in pieces, until I’m blinking Jackson back into vision. Concern radiates off of him in thick waves as his fingers slowly drift through my hair, eyes rapidly flicking between mine.
“Okay, punk?”
I clear my throat awkwardly. “I’m fine.”
Jackson hums in disbelief, thumb dragging along my lower lip. “Caught you by surprise, huh?”
“A little,” I admit. Butterflies wage a war in my stomach, rising up to my chest. “Did you mean it?”
“Yeah. Stop trying to break up with me for stupid reasons.”
Tossing my forearm over my eyes, I hold back a sob. “Jackson, they’re very good reasons. The seizures aren’t controlled. Sometimes I piss myself. It’s fucking embarrassing. This could cause so many complications for the rest of my life. I can’t… I can’t saddle you with having to fucking take care of me.”
Jackson carefully tugs my arm away from my eyes. “It’s a part of life, part of you. I understand that more than anyone. But I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get rid of me now. I’m in your bones, in your lungs, just like you are for me. I’d go to war for you, so stop asking me to go to war to keep you. It’s not fair.”
“I feel so useless. I don’t want to need you to take care of me. I hate needing anyone.”
Jackson shifts to his knees, takes my face in his hands, and stares deeply into my eyes. He lightly shakes my head, imploring me to listen to him. “You don’tneedme to take care of you. Iwantto take care of you. Just fucking get that through your head, Harper.”
“I’ll stop trying to break up with you,” I say, grumpy as hell.
