Page 22 of Wild Cub

Over the mountain, over the sea,

Back where my heart is longing to be,

Please let the light that shines on me

Shine on the one I love.

Most of my life, I rely on the songs to soothe and ground me. When I slipped into my dark depressed days, the songs of the past brings me back.

We stay like this for what seems like hours, until I finally notice when darkness casts a bright moon glow into the living room. I get up to finally change out of my work clothes and into my yoga shorts and an old college hoodie. I’m starting to feel that half bottle of whiskey I’ve emptied with Britt. Chris Stapleton is playing in the background, drowning out the emotions that escaped the day with his deep soulful voice.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at my door, startling all of us. Seamus barks and aims straight for the door. I think I stood up too fast, because my legs wobble. I debate opening the door, but I can’t imagine who it could be. I get to the door and look through the peephole on my toes. My heart starts to race.

“Darlin’, I know you’re there. Open up,” Jackson sounds, but I can’t see his face. After days of silence, I shouldn’t answer him, but I do. I swing it wide, and the first thing I notice are small beads of red on his face. I step closer, not speaking a word. He’s sporting a fresh black eye and a couple open wounds on his head. This man is bleeding, and in my house, or more like my porch..

“Jackson, what.. who.. why…” I caress his cheek. I need to get him some medical attention.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.” There’s a hint of laughter in his voice. “You going to let me in or are we gonna stand here all night? Because I’d much rather do something else with you.” His voice is deep, lower than normal, he chuckles softly.

“Who the fuck is at the door?” Brittany gets to her feet and comes face to face with the man who has a chokehold over my thoughts. She takes a long, wandering look over Jackson. “Hot damn, she’s been hiding you. Guess those cobwebs are cleaned out.”

Heat and shock cover my face almost instantaneously. “Britt, I think it’s time for you to go,” I say as I shove her out the door.

Jackson steps into the house as I push Britt out of it and shut the door behind me. This is the first time he’s seen my house and I’m inexplicably nervous. Seamus trails behind him as he walks, huffing and sneezing to get his attention. Jackson bends down and scratches his ears. A strange tingle washes through me. Seamus isn’t too keen on men, but Jackson appears to have won him over. “Go to the kitchen. I’ll get my first aid kit and some ice.”

Thank goodness for me being extra prepared. I think I have enough supplies to get me through the end of the world. I’ve taken enough first aid classes to do fine and at one point, I was a medical social worker intern, where I learned a thing or two,especially in the emergency department.

“You’ve been drinking, Little Cub.” His voice booms through the hallway with a hint of judgment.

“I’m fine; I have a higher tolerance than many people believe.” I pad down the hallway with my supplies. “It’s either me or the hospital.” He’s sitting at the island, waiting for me. Something about him waiting for me and the thought of being his nurse...Alright, I’m cut off.

“No hospitals,” he gruffly answers.

“Then you’re stuck with me.” I open the kit and grab my supplies.

“Good, I like this choice better,” Jackson says with a glint in his eye.

“One second, let me get a stool. Even sitting down, you’re a giant. I need to see these cuts better.” I go to turn but I’m picked up and set on my kitchen countertop before I can draw my next breath.

Jackson steps between my legs. “This works better.” His sly smile sends electricity coursing through my body.Focus.

“Fine, but no funny business,” I chastise him. “You ain’t in the hottest state right now.”

“Awe, Little Cub. You think I’m hot.” I apply pressure to his wound and he flinches.

“Sweetie, there aren’t enough words to describe you,” I say as I try to clean up the wound. The cuts aren’t too deep, so maybe a butterfly bandage will work.

Jackson lightly brushes his fingers against my thighs. The feeling, combined with the alcohol still coursing through my system, may be enough to put me to sleep. “Sir, if you don’t stop, I won’t be able to finish taking care of your wounds.”

“Can’t stop thinking about it,”

I roll my eyes. “About what” as I continue to work on his head wound, pondering what the hell happened.

“Your soft skin under my touch.”

“Maybe you took more to the head than I thought, Don’t get cocky with me.”

He smirks. “You ain’t seen cocky yet.” I smack his hands away, but he moves to put them back. I bandage him up with the butterflies, then tilt his chin up to check for any more cuts or bruises. About to clean any more, then he continues.

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