Page 28 of His to Burn
But despite all that, I couldn’t let him go.
I didn’t.
Even though he’d killed Jorge, I held Jackson and let the tears flow.
Let the reality hit me.
The world was falling apart.
I knew that without a doubt.
And I wasalone.
At that thought, I held him tighter, holding him with a desperation that was as embarrassing as it was undeniable.
Some distant part of me was aware of how good it felt to be in Jackson’s arms.
How right it felt.
Even in this state, I didn’t dare let myself believe I was anything but alone, but in these precious moments in his arms, I wasn’t.
Yes, he was a stranger.
Yes, he was terrifying.
He gave less than a shit about me.
But the way he stood stock still as I squeezed him with all my might felt like a promise.
A vow that he would be there.
That, if nothing else, I could count on him to help me weather the storm we foundourselves in.
The broad breadth of his shoulders, the strength in the arms that tightened around my waist whispered at me to do just that, telling me that just this once, I could trust someone.
I decided then I would try.
But still, this shit, this kind of breakdown?
This wasn’t me.
I was strong.
I always had to be.
But not now.
For now, I held him even tighter, letting myself cry harder.
His solid body felt like the best kind of anchor.
Felt like the only thing that kept me from slipping into the nightmare I hadn’t even begun to understand.
I held onto Jackson like he was the last solid thing in a crumbling world.
Because maybe he was.
I should haven been ashamed of how tightly I clung to him, ashamed of the tears soaking into his shirt.
