by Tigris Eden
Did Jackson Storme just admit he was wrong? Without all the drama?
Seriously?
I may need to pinch myself, make sure I’m not dreaming. Maybe I’m on more medication than I think. I have other things inside my head I need to get out of my mouth, or I’ll never say them. Now’s as good a time as any.
“I can't live here anymore," I blurt and watch him visibly still. So I try and amend my statement. "At least, not right now. I don’t feel safe, Jackson, and you're leaving me tomorrow. I can’t be here without you. I know you love this house, and I can’t ask you to leave it. But—“
His hands gently grip mine and squeeze.
“Anna, you have every right. We'll figure it out. For now, Joey and Treat want you with them while I’m on assignment. I promise, baby, I'll keep you safe."
A heavy weight I hadn’t realized existed lifts from my chest, and I momentarily float on a sea of calm.
If I could kiss him, I would. But it means I'd have to move, and right now, I just can’t. I'm sore, and although my meds are working, it still hurts. I smile. It’s my only response, as a lone tear slides down my cheek. For the very first time in a long time, I feel better. I was scared to tell Jackson how I felt. That he didn’t push back or try to bully me lets me know our relationship is stronger than ever. Normally, he’d try to get his way by any means necessary. Usually by sexual persuasion or with those incredible lips of his, but this time, it’s neither. The vibe in the room is warm and sweet. Jackson eases off the bed and heads to the dresser, pulling out boxer briefs, sleep pants, and a shirt.
“Let’s get some rest, darlin’, then we’ll spend the day together before you have to go to my sister’s place.”
When Jackson climbed into bed with Anna, he wasn’t expecting her to snuggle in deep and burrow in beside him.
“Anna, be careful, baby.” She turned on her side.
“I'm okay, you're like a huge, warm hot water bottle."
He wasn’t going to let her ruin her progress. She'd been hospitalized for over two weeks, a good portion of it spent in intensive care. Jackson gently maneuvered Anna to where she lay on her back and used pillows to prop her up.
“This sucks. I finally have you in bed with me, and I can’t even lay on you.”
Jackson hid his smile in her hair. He knew exactly how she felt. He wanted to crush her to him but settled for propping her legs on his and holding her hand.
“I'm gonna keep you safe, Anna.”
She didn’t say anything for long moments. Then she whispered, "I know, Jackson."
“Do you believe me?”
Her head nodded.
“I do.”
“Good.”
“After the case is closed, we'll plan our wedding, and I'll build us a house. Someplace nice, somewhere safe for you and Ava.”
“How is Ava?" Anna asked, sounding generally concerned.
He loved how she worried after his daughter.
“She's good. I'm gonna see her tomorrow before I head out to the New York office."
“Give her a hug from me.”
He would. Ava was worried about Anna. When he'd been able to talk to her over the phone, she'd started calling Anna her honey mom. When Jackson asked how she’d come up with the name, Ava had said it was because Anna’s skin was the color of the honey the bees make. Jackson couldn’t argue with that.
“Sleep, baby. Wake me up when you need the bathroom or it’s time for your meds.”
She nodded while yawning but otherwise said nothing. Jackson was restless, his mind going in a hundred different directions. He was anxious. He wanted to get on with his life. Wanted the case closed and the Perettis behind bars. His time with the NSA had taught him many things. Resilience. Fact-checking, and knowing when to move in and get your man. Cases needed to be closed, and in the process, sometimes took them into long stretches of nothing. But at the last minute, their boss’s boss had tossed out a ‘Hail Mary,’ asking them to take Inara with them into hiding. Make it look like they were off the grid. Beauville seemed like the right place to be. Treat was in love with Jackson’s sister, and the town had an opening for a sheriff. No one would think to look for him here. If it wasn’t Inara who blew their cover, then someone had followed them back to his hometown, or his location had been compromised. He’d made sure to stay out of the newspapers, and when he’d come to New York to visit Anna, he’d been careful. Very careful. He wasn’t sure if Inara was behind the attacks, but he'd find out. She'd been picked up the night of Anna's stabbing. Now back in New York, she was kept in a safe house and being looked after by Federal Marshalls. He’d get to the end of the case and move on. He was marrying Anna, knocking her up, and building her dream home. Somewhere she'd always be safe. A house filled with love, laughter, and family. Things he’d always wanted but had been unable to attain. He and his sister were close. At one time, so were he and his mother. Now, he just wanted his family safe, his baby growing in Anna’s belly, and a place to call home.
The bed is empty, but I still smell Jackson. The distinct smell of man—his virility, if one can even call virility a ‘smell.’ Jackson has his own unique fragrance. It’s clean and strong. My day with him is all mapped out in my head. Me in his shirt, and getting him to wear many throughout the day. It will be the soft, scent-saturated cotton that gets me through the roughest nights without him. When I’d become so dependent on him, I didn’t know exactly. But my fascination with Jackson began eons before he noticed me. I saw him long before he saw me. He’s real. Very real. Jackson is an eclectic mix of brooding and angelic-like features. Hard and handsome. From the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, there isn’t an inch of him that isn’t masculine.
My body is stiff, but I’d managed to get out of bed in the middle of the night to use the restroom. I didn’t realize how much my stomach muscles came into play during those simple movements until getting up and out of bed became a chore. The pain is tolerable. Barely. But I refuse to wimp out. I don’t want Jackson to leave, because deep down, there's the fear. But if we want to move forward in our life, he needs to close down his case. And I need to keep moving forward and let go of the past. It will be a challenge for sure, but one I’m ready to take on.
It’s early morning and as the smell of bacon, coffee, and eggs fill the air, my stomach rumbles. I miss bacon. My mother would tell me to take it easy. She'd bring me tea and toast. Before I finish the thought, Jackson enters the room with a smile on his face. He must do like a gazillion crunches a day, even most male models I’ve photographed aren’t as toned as he is. His shoulders take up most, if not all, of the doorway they’re so broad. Okay, maybe I’m still medicated. I should shake my head, clear myself of this dream-like state.
“Morning, baby.”
“Morning, what you got there?”
The smile he gifts me with warms me from head to toe.
“Bacon, eggs, toast, coffee, and tea.”
“All for me?”
“No, Pearl called, it’s tea and toast for you. Hungry man breakfast for me.”
I slowly sit up, wincing a little at the tightness in my belly.
“I can at least smell the bacon, right?”
Jackson tosses back his beautiful head and laughs. I love his laugh. It’s deep, heartfelt, and every single time I hear it, I swear my whole day is set right. Out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. My entire body clenches up. Jackson and I are the only two people in the house.
“Jackson,” I whisper, looking towards the dark bathroom. I look over to him, but in his place is a masked man. He's no longer holding food but a knife, a shiny knife dripping with blood. When I look down, the sheets are soaked with red. I scream. I scream until I can’t scream anymore.
The sound of Anna’s scream had Jackson knifing up out of the bed.
“Baby, I'm here. Shhhh, it’s okay, I'm right here.”
Inwardly cursing, he softly pulled her into his arms. Careful of her stomach. Tears ran down her face, and everything inside told him
that this was his fault.
"I'm so sorry, Jackson."
"Don’t apologize, Anna. You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t dream like this in the hospital. What's bothering you? Is it the house? Me?" God. He hoped it wasn’t him. He needed her to feel safe with him, and if she was waking up screaming, he was doing a horrible job.
"No. Yes. I don’t know, all of the above. I could smell bacon, and then you were in the doorway one minute, and the next minute, it wasn't you but someone in a mask holding a bloody knife."
Jackson's arms tightened around her shoulders as Anna tried to burrow deeper. He should take her to Joey's now, not wait. It was painfully obvious she wasn’t comfortable in their home any longer.
"I remember things."
"What kinds of things?" Jackson asked. Now, he was really worried.
"I remember his smell. I remember hitting the floor and the feeling of pain before there was nothing. But it’s not nothing. The feathers."
"Feathers?"
"Yeah, they're warm. Vibrant. Comforting. But right when I thought I'd relax into them, I'd hear your voice. You’re talking to me, telling me to be strong.”
He had.
For days, he’d sat and talked to her. Hoping she could hear him. Her confirmation warmed his insides, right down to his soul.
“Yeah, baby. I was talking to you."
Anna didn’t say another word, and Jackson took her silence in. He listened to her breathe. A week ago, she’d needed the help of a machine to do that; now, she was doing it on her own. As soon as Treat was well, he was taking his brother-in-law out for drinks. If not for Treat, Anna would still be in the hospital. Or worse.
Her breaths evened out, and Jackson knew she was asleep. He reached for his cell on the bedside table and called one of his deputies.
"Sheriff Storme?"
"I need two of you over here in the morning. I'm moving Anna to Treat and Joey’s while I’m in New York.”
“Yes, sir.”
The men at the station had no idea he was NSA. His cover was still intact. He told his team he was working the case with the Feds, and he’d debrief them when he had more information. For the most part, it was true. He didn’t need anything else added to his plate. He was still the sheriff of Beauville but was also an agent for the NSA. The room was dark, shadows crept across the walls as the lights outside his window danced back and forth, casting shadows.
Jackson couldn’t go back to sleep; instead, he watched over Anna. When he was sure she was in a deep, peaceful slumber, he rose quietly from their bed and started packing. It was too early to call a realtor, but first thing in the morning he was putting his house on the market.
When the sun finally brightened the sky, Jackson had already boxed more than half of Anna's clothes. The woman had a shit ton. Her shoes alone needed their own entourage. She was still asleep, and he didn’t want to wake her. He made himself coffee and breakfast while he waited for his deputies to arrive. He was working at frying his bacon when her arms surrounded his waist and squeezed. His Anna was awake. Jackson turned around and took in her fragileness. She'd lost a lot of weight, and her skin didn’t have its usual warm glow.
Jackson grabbed Anna’s face with both hands. The look in her eyes was warm, sleep-soft. His head bent low, he tasted the corners of her mouth before sipping at her lips. This was the first time he'd been able to really kiss her. Every kiss before this one was burned into his memory, but this kiss was a coming home of sorts for him. To think, he'd almost lost her. His anger mixed with his passion, he growled into the kiss, deepening it, his intentions clear. He wanted her to know he’d missed her, but at the same time, he wanted her to understand that he was just as concerned. He worked his tongue in heavy, long strokes against hers. Anna gripped his shirt and sighed. He would have kept kissing her if not for the knock at the door.
The guys were there to help get her things to his sister’s house.
"Baby, I gotta get the door. You okay here?"
Anna planted her head against his chest, squeezing him before stepping back.
“Yeah, I'm good. Gonna throw on my robe."
"You need help?"
"I got it. I need to start doing things, Jackson, or I won’t heal properly."
She was right. But it hurt him to see her in any kind of pain.
"Of course, baby. I'll get the door."
Jackson watched as she made her way down the hall to their room. They would get through this. There was no other acceptable outcome. The knock at the door sounded again. He was about to tell the two deputies where Anna's stuff was, only he realized it wasn’t his deputies.
“Who are you?" Jackson asked the stranger at the door. The male was wearing a track suit with the jacket open, and a t-shirt small enough for a fucking toddler.
“I’m Beau Matthews. I’m looking for a Miss Annabelle Macon."
“Why?"
"I'm her physical therapist. I'm here to go over the training regimen. Methodist contacted me."
Shit.
He’d completely forgotten about that. Was the guy even due to come today?
“You're early."
“Yes, sir, I like to do a welcome visit with my clients.”
"Can I see some ID?"
The man-child didn’t look old enough to be a physical therapist. And why did he have to keep smiling? What was wrong with him?
"Sure."
The kid pulled out his credentials, and Jackson committed his info to memory. Beau Matthews, Certified Physical Therapist, twenty-six and owner and personal trainer at Matthews Rehabilitation Center. Jackson gave him his card back when Anna stepped out of the room and into their line of sight in the hall.
“Come on in. Anna, this is Mr. Matthews, your physical therapist—"
The man decided to interrupt with, "Beau, just call me Beau, and can I say it’s an honor to meet you, Miss Macon.”
An honor? Why the fuck for? Jackson barely contained his anger as he walked Beau into the sitting area.
"How so, Mr. Matthews?" Anna asked, equally confused by his statement.
The male had the nerve to try and pretend he was shocked and star-struck at the same time.
"I'm a huge fan. I went to one of your shows when you were first starting out. You did a live show with models and had them pose as you snapped stills."
Anna's eyes went wide.
Kiss ass.
"Wow, that was two years ago."
"Yes, ma’am.”
"Anna, please."
"Anna."
Did he just drop his voice an octave? Oh, hell no. Jackson was not about to let the gushing continue. His fiancée was only in a robe. Jackson cleared his throat.
"Baby, you want me to help you get dressed?"
Anna looked down at her robe and grinned.
“I got it. Why don’t you offer Beau something to drink, coffee maybe?"
"Sure, would love a cup. It’s good you're dressing on your own, Anna. One thing at a time. I'll have you back into shape and out taking pictures in no time."
Anna smiled and turned to Jackson.
"I turned the stove off, meat was burning."
''Thanks, darlin’, I'll clean up. Maybe we can go to the diner for breakfast?" Jackson asked, hopeful. He only had the afternoon with her. Then again, maybe the diner was a bad idea. Too many people.
“How about we stay in?” Anna asked. She had a playful smile on her face, and Jackson didn’t like that Beau was privy to her smiles, they were only for him, dammit.
"All right, darlin’. My deputies will be here soon to take your stuff over to Joey’s.”
"Are you leaving?" Beau asked.
Jackson had almost forgotten the other male was in the room.
"I have business in New York."
“Well, an option I have yet to discuss is living here. Some of my clients prefer it that way. It’s extra, but I'm willing to do it. Anna is my only client. I cleared my calendar. I want her recovery to be successful."
&nb
sp; Living here?
Live-in, while he was gone? That was a hell no, and Jackson knew the answer was clear on his face. The Casanova punk ass wasn’t staying in his house, or his sister’s, whether Jackson was out of town or not, and if the idiot didn’t stop talking, he was going to see to it that he helped him out by shutting his shit down with a punch to the face. One way or another. Slow it down, man. He’s just trying to do his job, his mind reasoned.
Didn’t matter. No one of the opposite sex was going to be looking after his woman except her older brother. That was it. Jackson was looking for a reason to apologize. He’d been working on one since the male had walked through the door. Because before the conversation was over, he was ninety-nine percent sure he and Beau would be having a fist-to-face talk. It wouldn’t end well for Mr. Matthews. So, yeah, keep talking, pal. Give me a reason.
"That won’t be necessary, Beau, but thanks for the offer. I would prefer to stay with my family,” Anna said before excusing herself.
She saved your ass, punk.
Jackson walked into the kitchen while Beau sat at the breakfast table. He poured the man his coffee and sat it in front of him.
"Anna and I will be working closely for a few months, you sure y’all don’t need me here?"
The male had balls, he would give him that. Beau was too sure of himself. Jackson smirked and sipped his coffee.
“Anna stays at my sister’s. You work with her, get my girl better. As for closeness,"—he grunted—"I’ve got that under control."
The other male looked surprised he would be so blunt.
"You misunderstand.”
"Sure I do."
"No, really, I want her better. That's my job."
"And as long as you stick to your job, you and I will have no problems."
Anna returned, wearing a black maxi dress that left her shoulders bare. He knew the loose clothing was more comfortable. Jackson stood, walked to her, and pulled her in gently for a hug. He buried his face in her neck and took a deep breath before releasing her. Stepping back, he pulled out her chair. She was beautiful, radiant, and all his. Her face free of makeup and her beautiful eyes bright with love.
