Stay(74)

“He really played it up,” Jackson said to himself and shook his head. He closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Get some sleep. You need to rest.”

“Okay. You too,” I told him, knowing it was late.

“I will,” he promised. He backed away from the bed and picked up his book. “I’m just not tired yet.”

I didn’t believe him, but I was too worn to tell him that. I leaned back against the pillows and closed my eyes. Despite the emotions that flooded my ill head, I fell asleep quickly and was out for the rest of the night.





CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE





WAKING UP IN Jackson’s bed wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be. I pushed myself up just enough to get a drink of water and glanced around the dimly lit room in search of him. He was nowhere in sight. I laid back down feeling a lot better than I had the night before. Still, my body was exhausted. I thought about Jackson and how he put himself in danger—again—to take care of me. I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to make that deep, painful sadness in his chocolate eyes go away. The gentle hum of the ceiling fan lulled me back to sleep with the image of Jackson’s face still lingering in my mind.#p#分页标题#e#

I woke up several hours later needing to use the bathroom. Grey clouds muted the early morning sky, and the promise of rain was heavy on the breeze that came in through the open windows. I swung my feet over the bed and stepped on a leg. Startled, I jolted forward. My foot caught in a blanket and I lost my balance. I fell in slow motion, catching myself on my hands and knees. Jackson sat up, looked annoyed for a second, and then smiled.

“Are you okay?” he asked and moved over to me.

“What are you doing on the floor?” I replied and disentangled myself from his blanket. He stood and helped me to my feet.

“I didn’t think you’d want me sleeping next to you,” he confessed, looking almost embarrassed. “And I didn’t want to leave you alone. Your breathing was kinda shallow. It, uh, made me nervous. You look better now. I mean sound. Sound better now.”

A half smile formed on my face. “I feel a lot better. What was that nasty stuff you made me drink?”

Jackson smiled back at me. I hadn’t let myself acknowledge how good he looked when he smiled before. It was such a small, simple expression, and yet it changed his face so much. The heavy sadness was momentarily gone, and he looked boyish and handsome at the same time. With his dark, wavy hair and his strong jaw line, he was actually a very attractive man. It was just hard to see past the pain and the bruises that almost always covered his face.

“You don’t want to know,” he said with a smile. “It’s an old family recipe with a little bit of everything in it. My grandpa used to make it for me when I would get sick. He said it ‘burned the fever’ out of me, though I think the alcohol just made it worse.”

I bit my lip and tried to smile back at him. That was the first time he had ever mentioned anything from his past. “Well, whatever it is, it helped,” I said gratefully. “I don’t feel like I’m going to burn up from the inside anymore.”

He gently pressed the back of his hand to my forehead. “Not from the outside either.” He let his hand fall and stepped back, his eyes locked with mine. My heart did that flutter thing again. I took a step closer. “Are you hungry?” he asked, blood rushing to his cheeks.

“Yeah.” I coughed and ran my hands through my messy hair. “I haven’t felt hungry in days.”

“That’s a good sign. I’ll make breakfast,” he offered and strode to his dresser. He opened it, revealing a very small selection of neatly folded clothes. He handed me a white T-shirt and a blue pair of loose fitting exercise shorts. “I’m assuming you want to shower and change.”

I took the clothes from him and nervously eyed the attached bathroom. “I do.”

“There are towels in the cabinet under the sink. I’ll stay out until you’re done. Take your time,” he said before turning out of the room. He shut the door behind him. I heard the stairs creak as he descended them. My head was still foggy with sickness but not enough to make me leery of stripping down in Jackson’s room. What if Nate or Zane came home? Jackson was sure that they wouldn’t just yet, and I believed him.

I walked into the bathroom nonetheless. It was small and, like the rest of Jackson’s room, very neat and tidy. It was also void of paint and decorations. I turned the shower on and looked at myself in the mirror. Instantly, a small amount of embarrassment rose and caused my cheeks to flush. My hair was a ratty mess, old makeup clung to the skin around my eyes, and my nose was red with dry skin. I looked awful.