Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Rubbing the heels of my hands over my swollen eyes, I release a slow breath. “Food.”
“I’ll make you something.”
We eat dinner in complete silence, but I feel safe. I can breathe.
He takes my empty plate, and I instinctively slide my chair away from the table to avoid him getting too close.
He frowns.
I do, too. “Sorry,” I murmur.
“Don’t apologize. I won’t touch you until you ask me to touch you.”
His kindness makes my heart ache. What if that day never comes?
After the dishes are done, he returns to the table. I haven’t moved. I feel so fucking lost.
“You should try to sleep.”
I nod.
“Where would you like me to sleep?”
My gaze flits to the broken door.
Jack heads straight to the living room and drags the sofa to the door. “This is where I’ll sleep.”
I don’t deserve him. But I need someone to make me feel safe until that door gets repaired, so I relinquish a nod. “Thank you,” I murmur. I walk toward my bedroom and say, “Good night.”
Just before I reach my room, Jack says my name.
I stop.
“I fucking love you.”
A flood of emotion surges through me. I can’t even speak; it’s too strong. I can only nod and hide in my bedroom for the night.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
JACKSON
Jackson fixes the door. He hires a security company to cover the house with alarms and cameras inside and out. Every night, he sleeps on the sofa to monitor the house while Frankie stays holed up in her bedroom with the door locked.
He makes her meals.
Orders grocery delivery.
Laundry.
House cleaning.
And not once does he ask why Black Beauty is covered in blankets.
In fact, they don’t talk much at all.
Frankie slowly makes progress by showering every day. Yesterday, she even curled her hair. While Jackson rakes the leaves in her yard, she does yoga and sits in a meditative pose for a good twenty minutes.
“I have no clue what I’m doing,” he confesses to Jessica on the phone while arranging pumpkins and gourds around Frankie’s front porch to get in the Halloween spirit. He’s noticed a lot of kids in the neighborhood.
“Sounds like you’re doing everything you can and then some. Luke agrees. What else can you do if she won’t see a therapist?”
“I don’t know if she’ll see one. I’m afraid to ask.” He sits on the top step and gazes out at the treelined street.
“Has she left the house yet?”
“No.”
“Have you suggested it?”
“No.”
Jessica laughs. “Well, you can offer to take her for a drive without it seeming as invasive as suggesting therapy.”
“Maybe.”
“Have you talked with Livy?”
“Yeah,” he says, stretching his legs and crossing his ankles. “She’s adamant that my place is here. And I agree. But I feel torn into two pieces at the moment.”
“You’re feeling that way because you went so long without seeing your family, and now that you have them back, you don’t ever want to leave.”
“Mmm,” he agrees with a low hum.
“Has she talked with her parents?”
“Yes. But she’s acting like she’s working and staying busy like nothing happened.”
“Well, I understand that. But at the risk of sounding like Luke, I have to say she needs to tell her parents what happened. Maybe not the part about Archer, but she can tell them she was robbed in the parking lot, and they would understand that it shook her.”
“I’ll suggest it. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m so afraid of losing her.”
“Keep doing what you’re doing. She’ll come back to you. Your love is enough. Trust that.”
“Thanks, Jess.”
“Love you.”
“You too. Bye.”
Jackson removes his shoes and steps into the house. Frankie’s in the kitchen. It smells like pumpkin spice.
“Whatever you're doing, don’t stop,” he says, leaning against the counter without getting into her space.
She focuses on the batter she’s stirring in the stainless steel bowl and doesn’t try to hide her grin. “Muffins.”
“Perfect.” He washes his hands. “Have you thought about telling your parents about the robbery? Just that part. It might feel like a weight off your conscience. I’m sure lying to them is exhausting. And they would understand that something like that would leave you unsettled and fearful.”
“If I tell my parents, they’ll come here.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
She drops muffin liners into the pan and shoots him a quick look. “I’m going to say yes because they’ll see I’m not okay. And they’ll feel like my reaction to having my purse stolen is extreme. Then, they’ll worry about me. And they’ve dealt with too much grief to have my problems thrust upon them.”
Jackson hangs the towel over the dishwasher handle. “When parents have kids, they take on all of their problems. And there is no expiration date. Ryn had a daughter when we met. She was a real piece of work. They had a rocky relationship for years. And when Ryn died, Maddie flew in from Baltimore for the funeral and left the next day. I haven’t seen her in so long. But … I have someone who keeps an eye on her whereabouts and gives me updates. I’ll have someone check on her for the rest of my life because Ryn would have wanted it. Maybe you’re not giving your parents enough credit. I think they’ll be relieved that you’re okay.”