Chapter Fifty-Four
Brooklyn
The first thing I notice is the cold.
When Jackson sleeps, his entire body is warm, always. It's like he’s got a furnace under his skin. When he’s here, the bed is heat and weight and safety, but when he’s gone, it’s just sheets and quiet and the echo of my heartbeat in my ears.
I blink myself awake slowly. The room is gray with early morning light. It’s still, too still.
I reach before I think.
My hand hits an empty pillow.
That’s all it takes.
My chest tightens and my breathing skips. For a second, I swear I’m back at the cabin, with his shadow breathing heavy beside me.
No.
*No.*
I squeeze my eyes shut and remind myself where I am. Jackson’s apartment. Our bed. My heartbeat slows, but only a little.
He always tells me when he leaves. Always wakes me. Always says my name softly, like a promise.
He didn’t this time.
I sit up, the room swimming for a second, and I wait for the dizziness to pass. The window is cracked enough to hear the city waking up. Sirens somewhere distant. The hum of traffic below.
I pull Jackson’s hoodie off the chair and put it on. It smells like him. Cedar and soap and the faintest hint of coffee.
My feet hit the floor slowly. They’re not perfect yet. The healing is…slow. It’s stupid and beyond frustrating. But I can walk, I can move. And that’s what matters.
I pad into the living room.
The couch is empty, and his keys are gone from the hook. His boots are gone, too.
Panic spikes sharply. Too fast and familiar.
I grab my phone from the coffee table and unlock it.
No text.
I swallow hard and call him. It rings once, twice, three times.
No answer.
My pulse gets louder, and I get hot behind my ears.
The lock clicks, and the front door opens.
I don’t think, I run. My feet ache, but I don’t care.
Jackson steps in, and I collide with him so fast he grunts, hands flying up on instinct so he doesn’t drop whatever he’s holding. His jacket is cold against my cheek. He smells like river air and metal. His heartbeat thuds hard under my ear.
"Hey. Hey. Baby. I’m here. I’m right here." I don’t realize I’m shaking until he says it.
"I woke up and you were gone," I whisper into his shirt. My voice sounds tiny. Stupid. The kind that makes me hate how afraid I still am.
His hand slides to the back of my head. Slow and steady. He presses his face into my hair. "I know. I should have woken you. I’m sorry."
Tears hit before I can stop them. Not loud, just hot as they slip down my face like I didn’t ask for them.
"I thought I lost you," I say. It comes out broken. Like bone under skin.
He holds me tighter. Not too tight. Just enough.
"You’re not losing me. Not now. Not ever." His voice is low. Rough. Real. "I just had a call. Work thing. I didn’t wanna wake you up. You were finally sleeping deeply."
I lean back just enough to look at him. His eyes are tired, and it's not a normal tired but the kind that means something happened.
"What did you see?"
He hesitates. Once. But that’s enough.
There was another girl.
He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t have to. I see it in the way his jaw tightens and his shoulders lock and the cold that settles in his eyes.
"Okay," I say. I don’t collapse. I don’t fall apart. I just…hold onto him.
"We’re gonna talk about it later," he says. "Only if you want, but not now."
I nod.
He brushes his thumb across the tear on my cheek. "You sure you’re okay?"
*No.*
But I nod again.
He sees it, of course, he does. Jackson reads me in ways that scare me sometimes.
He pulls me back against his chest, and we stand like that for a long time. Just breathing. Just existing.
The world outside keeps moving. Sirens. Traffic. People living their lives.
But right here it’s just him and me and the quiet.
When my breathing settles, he presses a kiss to my temple.
"Come on," he murmurs. "Sit with me."
We move to the couch. I curl into his side. His arm wraps around me. I tuck my face into his shoulder, the fabric warm now from body heat.
His heartbeat steadies mine.
I haven’t asked about the girl yet. I will. But not now.
I don't think he's any more ready to talk about it than I am to hear about it.
And right now, I just need to know that he’s here.
Jackson’s fingers stroke slowly through my hair. There’s no hurry or tension, just touch.
"I’m okay now," I whisper.
"I know," he says. "I got you."
I close my eyes and breathe him in.
He’s here.
He came back.
And that’s everything.
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