Page 32 of His Secret Obsession

“I’m going to take you home,” I murmur. Reaching over, I turn off her car and pocket her keys. When I pull back, she moves forward but I stop her with a hand on her shoulder. She gives me a questioning look, but I don’t answer her. Instead, I bend down and scoop an arm underneath her thighs.

“Jax!” She shakes her head. “I can walk. I’m fine.” She tries to push away from me, but I only tighten my grip.

“Well, I’m not.” My voice quivers, my pulse throbbing in my ears. She stills against me, studying me with a searching look. I fight the urge to duck my head. “Iwon’t be okay until we get you home. Just let me take care of you.” My chest heaves as I continue meeting her gaze head on, hiding none of my vulnerability. I feel like my insides are exposed, allowing her to seeeverything.

“Please,” I add quietly. “Let me.”

A long moment of silence passes between us as she studies me. My heartbeat is erratic, and a fission of fear takes root inside me. I want to take care of her, not just because I think she needs it right now, but also becauseIneed it. I need it to assure myself she’s still in one piece. I need to keep touching and soothing her for my own damn sanity. Just as I’m beginning to think she’s going to deny me, she gives me a tight nod.

“Okay.”

Her whisper is so soft I almost don’t hear her. The relief sweeping through me makes my knees shake. She gives me a tentative, understanding smile before looping her arms around my neck.

“Thank you,” I say.

She’s light in my arms as I scoop her up and shut the car door with my hip. My shoes dig into the snow and mud as I trudge back up the embankment, but I manage to make it back up without slipping. Carrying her towards my waiting truck, I relish the feel of her warm body pressed against mine. Lowering my head, I take in a whiff of her shampoo. It smells like coconut and something clean. If she notices that I’m sniffing her, she doesn’t comment on it. I get the passenger door of my truck open and gently slide her onto the seat. Before she has the chance, I’m leaning across her shivering body and buckling her seatbelt.

Pulling back, my bicep accidently grazes her breast. My skin tightens, and I want to groan. I try to ignore the way her breath hitches.

After walking around to the driver’s side, I climb in and shut the door behind me. The warmth of the heat blowing from the air vents feels good on my chilled skin, but Maddie’s small frame continues to shiver. She places her hands underneath her thighs, probably in an effort to warm them up. Reaching forward, I turn the heat to full blast. Maddie watches me in silence as I twist around in my seat and grab the small blanket that I keep back there. Being a firefighter has taught me that certain items such as blankets and jumper cables are better to have and not need. I drape it over her lap and pull it up to her shoulders.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “For the blanket, and for…everything.”

She’s thanking me? I should be thanking her. Some part of her must trust me, or she would never allow me to fuss over her like this. Having her trust, being the one to take care of her when she’s feeling vulnerable, is such a privilege. Do I even deserve it? After avoiding her all week in a pathetic attempt to hide my feelings for her, I’m not sure that I do. Maybe if I hadn’t been avoiding her so much, I would have realized a lot sooner that she wasn’t home.

I could have prevented this.

“No thanks needed,” I murmur, my voice gruff. “I have a buddy who owns a tow truck.” Pulling back onto the road, I keep my speed a little slower than usual as my truck maneuvers through the icy slush. “It didn’t look like there was much damage to the car, so I’ll ask him to tow it back to the house.”

“How did you know to come looking for me?” Her voice is so quiet and tentative, I have to strain to hear her. She gazes out the window, her eyes not meeting mine.

“When I came home, you weren’t there,” I begin.Should I share what I know about the wreck that killed her parents?“I know that when you were eighteen, you were traveling in a car with your parents during a snowstorm. A semi-truck slid on some ice and collided with your vehicle head on. Your parents both died before they even made it to the hospital, and I should think that would leave a mark on anybody. I didn’t want you out by yourself in this kind of weather.”

“Sounds like Luke told you everything.”

I shift in my seat. I’m not sure what she wants me to say to that, so I squeeze her hand instead.

“Fuck, it feels good to bring you back to the house,” I admit, deciding it’s time to change the subject. Putting the truck into park, I turn the engine off before reaching over to unbuckle Maddie’s seatbelt. She stares up at me with an expression I can’t quite place. I keep my hand on her elbow as we walk up the front steps. Maybe I should leave her alone to collect her thoughts, but she looks so fragile right now.

We’re silent as we enter the house and make our way upstairs.

“Take a shower in my room. My bathroom has a jacuzzi.” I nod towards my bedroom door. She hesitates, nibbling on her bottom lip before nodding. Placing my hand on her lower back, I guide her into my bedroom before she can change her mind. I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but when she mentions needing to get pajamas from her room, I hand her one of my old shirts along with a pair of gray sweatpants. Surprise flickers across her face, but she takes them without protest and disappears into the bathroom.

I change into a pair of sweatpants myself before slumping down on the edge of the bed. Releasing a heavy exhale, I finally allow some of the tension to seep out of my body. That’s when I hear the faint sound of sobbing coming from behind the closed door. My eyelids fall shut, sharp pain lancing through my chest.It kills me to sit out here and listen to the grief and despair echoing off the bathroom walls, but I fight the urge to go comfort her. I doubt she wants me in there right now.

No doubt she’s remembering her parents.

I hate that it’s something we have in common. Losing your parents just as you are entering adulthood is a special kind of pain. It feels like having a rug ripped out from underneath you, a support system stolen while you’re still trying to find your way.

Turning out the lights, I climb onto the bed and sink down against the soft sheets. The bathroom door opens, and light floods the room. When her eyes find mine, I pretend not to notice the puffy, swollen skin around them. Her gaze travels down my bare torso, her cheeks turning pink. My stomach swoops. Fuck, I should have put a shirt on. She’s had a rough day, and I don’t want her to get the wrong impression. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to puff up my chest a little at the attention.

“I didn’t know you had a tattoo.” Her voice is quiet and subdued. I peer down at my chest, my eyes landing on the fire helmet tattooed above my left pec. It’s encased in flames with the number 847 at the top of the helmet.

“Got it after my old man died,” I admit. “It’s a reminder of the sort of man he was and who I want to be.” I don’t tell her that while I have a tattoo to memorialize my dad, I have nothing for my mother. Have never wanted anything because I have so few happy memories with her. But that’s a story for another time. Pulling back the covers, I gesture to the other side of the king-size mattress.

“Sleep next to me tonight.” My voice is soft, coaxing. I swallow, my heart skipping a beat as I search her face for a reaction. Her eyebrows arch up, her lips parting. She looks down at the empty spot then back at me. I think I see a hint of longing on her face.

As if I would let you be alone tonight, sweetheart.

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