When we got in the truck, Jackson didn’t start it right away, and we sat in a pained silence. He was staring down at his hands, picking at some of the now-dried blood from when he wiped his split lip with the back of his hand.
“I, uh . . . really don’t want to go home to Peter tonight,” I said quietly.
Jackson turned on the car without a word, and I let him take me to his house. “Look After You” by The Fray started playing, and I forced myself not to cry, telling myself that the song didn’t mean anything.
We walked through the dark garage and into the kitchen. It would just be the two of us here tonight, since everyone was out of town.
“I’ll grab you some of Julie’s clothes,” Jackson said before sprinting upstairs.
I sat on the couch, stretching my legs out in front of me. I felt exhausted, and entirely depleted.
When he came back downstairs, he had a pair of Julie’s leggings and an old T-shirt in his hands.
“You’re bleeding too, Addie,” Jackson said as he dropped the clothes to reach for my arm. He gently flipped it so my forearm was facing up.
I pulled it back sharply. “It’s just a scratch; it’s not a big deal.”
Jackson let out a sigh. “At least let me get you a Band-Aid.” He left the room before I could argue.
When he came back, he motioned for my arm again, and I slowly lifted it toward him. He held onto my wrist while he carefully placed the Band-Aid over the cut. It felt dramatic. It was just a small scratch from Peter’s nails—nowhere near the injuries Jackson had on his face.
He didn’t drop my arm right away, and his grasp tightened as he stared at my forearm before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to my wrist. I had to bite my cheek to stop myself from reacting. His eyes met mine briefly, then he disappeared to go shower like nothing had happened.
I changed into Julie’s clothes, and was cuddled up on the couch when he came back into the room without a shirt on, his hair still dripping wet. His face was clear of any trace of blood, but he still looked awful. The split in his lip was raw and red like it had split back open during his shower.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Jackson said as he sat down on the opposite side of the couch.
“I can’t help it; you’re hurt,” I said with a scratchy throat.
“You should see the other guy,” Jackson said with a smirk as he grabbed the remote. We both knew he was the one who lost that fight, and I didn’t like that he was joking about it. He positioned himself so his head was resting on the opposite armrest, then he stretched out his legs so they rested up against mine.
“I really don’t want to see the other guy ever again,” I said softly. Hopefully Peter was at home cooling off, and maybe—if I was lucky—he’d be too drunk to remember anything by tomorrow.
“Yeah, fuck that guy,” Jackson said. His jaw was clenched, and I could already see a bruise forming where his jaw connected to his neck. He clicked something on the TV, then tossed the remote between us. “It’s time you watchedNever Back Down. Best movie ever.”
I faced the television, watching as his favorite movie started. He positioned his legs so one of mine was between both of his. I was hit by that familiar jolt in my heart, and I tried to tamp it down.
“Thank you, Jackson,” I whispered. There was so much to thank him for. For making Peter let go of me, for getting punched for me, for convincing Rami not to call his parents or the cops, and for letting me stay here and taking care of me.
He stayed silent for so long that I thought maybe he didn’t hear me.
“That’s what friends do, Addie. They protect each other.” He let out a long breath before facing me for a brief moment. His brown eyes were so sincere I wanted to burst into tears. “I’ll always protect you.”
I wanted to say something back—to admit that he was my favorite person, that I didn’t know what I would do without him. That regardless of what Julie said, I wanted to touch him. I wanted to kiss him to show my gratitude—to kiss his split lip, his hands, the bruises on his jaw. Instead, I stayed silent, and didn’t move a single muscle.
When the credits of the movie played, Jackson was already asleep.
And when we woke up in the morning, our legs were still intertwined.
Chapter 13
NOW
June
On Saturday afternoon, Jackson reappeared at my door with a bag of food. I opened the door and stared at him for a moment, trying to look intimidating. He burst out laughing, squeezing right past me and into the house like he owned the place.
“Why do you do that?” I asked as I crossed my arms.