Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Ayen

The bag that was strapped to my back was heavy, weighing me down as we trekked through the forest. The vegetation wasn't particularly dense but with all of us in heavy protective gear and lugging the bags around, it made for a difficult walk.

After the demonstration of putting out a fire with hand-held intervention, gear had been distributed amongst all of us for a day-long hike into the woods where we'd be shown different burn sites and how to go about spotting the signs of what would constitute a controlled burn and what wouldn't.

I had to say, I was actually pretty interested in learning all of this. Never in my life did I think I'd ever care about forest fires or helping to control or stop them, but with Jackson's words still ringing in my ear from this morning, it had me feeling inspired.

Maybe that was the point of his speech to me—to get me thinking about doing something with my life after I got out, something important that would give back to my community in some way. Maybe he was just being nice and wanted to help a kid like me out because that was kind of his job and there was nothing deeper to it.

Regardless of what his motives were for reassuring me this morning, I still wanted to make him proud.

I sucked the fresh mountain air into my lungs, breathing deeply; it felt nice to be out here in the open again.

Having been locked up for so long and only getting an hour of rec time every day was demoralizing and always had me feeling restless like I was in some kind of perpetual hamster cage.

I understood that going to prison was punishment and that punishment wasn't supposed to be comfortable. Doing penance for my sins wasn't supposed to be some walk in the park where I got to just hang around for five years in some cushy cell while my ex's family had to take care of what was, essentially, a thirty-nine-year-old adult baby for the rest of their lives.

But damn did it feel nice to finally be free for a little while.

I felt something brush against my leg and turned to look down at it, spotting Roxy happily trotting along next to me. I smiled and looked toward the back of the group where Jackson was taking up the rear.

He was engaged in a deep conversation with Barlow, who was visibly sweating from our hike. My CO was nodding along to whatever Jackson was saying while he was fixing his eyes down at the ground with a strained frown.

Clearly this hike wasn't on his list of things he wanted to be forced into doing—especially with his heavy uniform on.

I turned back ahead to face the rest of the group, ignoring the subtle feeling of eyes on the back of my head.

I was probably blowing it out of proportion, but would it be wrong of me to assume Jackson sent Roxy up here with me to keep me company?

I was the only one out of the group not walking next to someone, after all.

I brushed my hand against her head as we walked, petting her every so often as I whispered how much of a good girl she was. She seemed happy to accompany me, her tail swaying behind her while she navigated the slightly rocky terrain with ease.

Eventually, we reached a large set of stones that looked to be carved down intentionally, giving most of us a spot to rest while we took a water break. I claimed one of the smaller rocks toward the far right side and set my bag between my legs. The zipper parted easily as I peeled it open, trail rations and my thermos of water were right on top. I tossed some of my jerky to Roxy after ripping open the bag, belatedly realizing that I probably should've asked Jackson first before doing that. I winced.

With my luck, his dog was on some super fancy diet that only contained fresh cooked ingredients from a local butcher shop.

"How we doing over here?"

I looked up mid-chew to Jackson coming over to us. Roxy let out a few barks and circled around her owner's legs, before coming back over to me.

"Good. Hey, listen... your dog isn't on a special diet or anything right?"

He laughed. "Uh oh. Did she manage to weasel something out of you?"

I looked down guiltily at my pack of jerky. "Uh..."

"I swear it's the eyes," he said, flashing me a smile and bending down to grab his dog and ruffle her fur. "She'll get you to give her anything with the right look."

I smiled a little and shoved another slice into my mouth. He wasn't mad, that was a good sign. I hadn't realized how much my heart rate had spiked when he'd come over until I was starting to feel my body relax again.

Jesus, who knew PTSD was such a bitch?

"You got enough water?" He nodded to my bag.

"Yeah. I'm all good. Did you drink anything yet?"

"Hey now, I'm the one that's supposed to be taking care of you. Not the other way around."

You, he said.

Not you guys , as in the whole group of us.

Why did that small, subtle word feel like it had something else behind it—like it was charged with more than just him looking out for me because I was technically under the program's care?

Jackson had a way of saying things rather flippantly, even with the underlying message sounding so much more than what was being said on the surface level. I was the king of over-thinking everything, too, that much I was conscious of.

But then, why was I getting the feeling that he was purposefully not looking at me now?

Instead, he was focused on rubbing Roxy's belly as she rolled around on the ground, getting her golden fur dirty with bits of dead leaves and dirt.

"Well, you've done a good job so far," I said, shoving another piece of jerky into my mouth.

His head snapped up to look at me, freezing me in my place.

Something passed through his eyes, causing my stomach to clench with excitement. I doubted he was trying to give me what I could only describe as bedroom eyes, yet the intense focus was making me squirm.

Shit, I really did over-think all of this, didn't I?

Jackson rose to his feet and stepped around his dog, coming closer to me.

My gaze tracked his every movement, my heart picking up its thrumming beat again as he slowly squatted down in front of me and, without warning, gently cupped one of my legs.

His fingers worked quickly at the laces of my boot, gently pulling it off of my foot and setting it down next to the rock I was sitting on. He rested my heel against his thigh and pushed the cuff of my pant leg up just enough to expose my ankle to him.

I swallowed, his fingers brushing over the skin right above where my sock was and trailing down to my ankle bone. He eased pressure into the tendon, running his fingers up and around a few times while tingles spread throughout my entire leg.

I let out a little groan of pleasure and tightened both of my hands around the pack of jerky as I stayed very still, not wanting to break the moment—wherever the hell it was leading to.

Around us, our group was already beginning to pack up, our break over with.

"Hey, what's going on with him?" The crunch of Barlow's boots were making their way over here.

"Looks like he twisted his ankle," came Jackson's easy reply.

Glee shot through me almost instantly.

Jackson's eyes flitted up to find mine again, searching me for any kind of objection while he continued to massage my lower calf and ankle. He wouldn't find one, though, because there was no way in hell I was breaking up this moment.

"Jesus fuck, Gonzalez," Barlow grumbled. "Are you the clumsiest motherfucker on this planet, or what?"

"Guess so, sir," I said, ripping my gaze away from the man in front of me to focus on my CO instead.

He sighed. "You need to go back to medical?"

"I think he'll be all right with a little more rest," Jackson said, leaning back to show Barlow my ankle. "The swelling's already coming down. Elevating it for another forty-five minutes should do the trick."

Barlow grunted. "We don't have forty-five fucking minutes, Hall."

Jackson made a show of glancing back toward the rest of the group, a frown on his face. My leg involuntarily twitched in Jackson's hold, causing him to tighten his hands around it to secure me.

Thank fuck that I decided to put my rations pack on my lap or else I'd blow my cover with how turned on this entire interaction was making me.

"Why don't you all go on ahead? We should be able to catch up by the time you reach the first site." Jackson's head swiveled back around to Barlow again.

"He can't walk on it at all?"

"Not if you want this sprain to turn into a strain."

Barlow grunted.

"It's that or I carry him back to medical," Jackson went on. "Either way, he can't be on it right now."

"Shit..." Barlow mumbled.

The man dragged a tired hand over his jaw, scratching at the stubble forming there. He looked back out across the group to where the three other firefighters and several convicts were standing together in a small group, their packs already on.

There were no other COs that decided to come on our hike together, choosing to voluntarily stay behind once they were told how far we'd be going today. I had a feeling that Barlow drew up short in their lotto and hadn't actually wanted to come with us, but rather had to and he was now regretting that choice.

"You think he'll only need forty-five minutes?"

Jackson nodded. "Should be about that. I've got an ice pack in my bag I'll slap on and see how we do with that."

Barlow nodded, dropping his hand from his face. "All right. I'll radio you when we get to the site to see where you're at. If you do have to head back, you need to let me know."

Jackson's thumb stroked along the edge of my sock, sending small pulses of pleasure right to my groin. "Of course."

As my CO stepped away and headed back to the group, I let myself relax again.

Trying not to read into Jackson keeping me back just yet, I slowly sealed my rations back up and stuffed everything into my pack again but kept it on my lap. Roxy perked up once the group started to file out of our resting area and head down the path again, leaving Jackson and I behind.

"Forty-five minutes, huh," I said as soon as we were completely alone.

He turned back to smile at me, a rather smug look on his face. "Technically, the protocol is half an hour, but what's an extra fifteen?"

My stomach clenched with excitement. Both of us knew that this bogus excuse was, well, bogus.

So why was Jackson leaning into it?

I wasn't going to complain about spending more time with him, though, and maybe our situation from last night and into this morning had left more of a lasting impression on him than I thought.

All of this was fun and games, though. It wasn't serious—it couldn't be. Not with me being actual government property.

"How's it looking, Doc?" I rolled my foot in his hold. "You think I need to take it easy for the rest of the day?"

He chuckled and patted my leg before pulling the cuff of my pant leg down again. "I think you'll live. Just barely, though."

After getting my shoe back on and laced up, he grabbed me by the arm and hoisted me up off the rock. Without even having to ask, he slipped my bag over his shoulder and nodded for me to follow him.

Thankfully, by now, my body had calmed down somewhat, though I was still buzzing from our close proximity.

We walked at a slow pace; much slower than what we had been when we were with the rest of the group. I didn't mind, though. Not if it meant stealing a little time with Jackson without the watchful eyes of my COs around.

Roxy fell in line next to me, keeping up pace with me easily.

"I'm surprised she likes you so much," Jackson said after minute

"Does she usually get scared of inmates?"

He hummed thoughtfully before answering. "Not exactly. She typically keeps her distance but that's not due to any kind of past experiences or anything."

"Oh."

For some reason, that made me feel special. Like I'd been chosen out of the however many dozens of inmates who had come through this program before me.

None had been trusted before this, so what made me so different?

Almost as if reading my mind, Jackson spoke again. "I think it's your soft nature."

My face flushed.

Soft.

If only he knew what I'd been sentenced for—I doubt he'd think of me as ‘soft' then.

Holding that gun in my hand, though, the one my ex-husband had bought only a few months prior as a tool to intimidate me with, and pointing it at him, had felt powerful then—holding a tool that could take a life with the simple pull of a trigger was both exhilarating as it was terrifying.

I knew it made me a fucked up monster to think that way, but it was the truth.

That had been the only time in my life that I had ever felt in control of anything.

In prison, I'd been mandated to take a bunch of psych evals and see a counselor regularly to work through and process what had happened. And while I'd told them over and over again that I was sorry and that I regretted my choices, deep down I wasn't.

I never would be.

Perhaps that feeling would go away in time when I got out and started to live my life the way I wanted to, but who knew.

Not many people could come back from attempting to kill someone. It fundamentally changes you as a person, no matter what the intentions were behind the action. Deciding to take a life was a crossroads that very few chose to take, and the suffering that followed, those haunting dreams that still kept me up sometimes, were my cross to bear.

"Hey…" A hand on my arm stopped me from walking. "Where did you go?"

"Huh?" I glanced up at Jackson, confused.

He was frowning down at me. "You disappeared... You did that yesterday, too."

Disappeared?

"I did?"

Looking around the trail, I didn't see any footprints from my boots that told me I'd wandered off the path. We were still on the same trail and walking at the same casual pace we had been.

"Yeah…" Jackson turned to face me fully, his hand coming up to cup my jaw. Using his other hand, he tapped lightly on my forehead. "Up here. You went somewhere."

My eyes widened.

Oh.

How the hell could he tell that?

I wasn't saying anything out loud, nor was I distracted in my thoughts for that long. Either he'd been watching me the whole time, or I'd somehow made it obvious my mind had drifted away from our conversation.

"Oh. Sorry."

"What were you thinking about?"

Being there in the middle of the woods alone with him was doing some fucked up things to me. I wanted to stay like this, with him touching me and keeping me close like I was something precious to him. But at the same time, I was petrified that we were going to get caught.

How would this look to anyone, especially a CO, passing by?

I'd be dragged back to SAC faster than I could blink and probably thrown in the hole until my parole hearing.

Hell, Jackson would definitely lose his job, too, if people thought he was fraternizing with the inmates.

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Just about what you said this morning."

His brows pulled together for a moment as he tried to recall our conversation. Whatever he remembered had his expression softening, though, and he reached out, moving his thumb over my cheek like it had this morning.

I wanted to lean into it so bad, nuzzle my face into his hand while he continued to touch me.

"It's the truth, Ayen. You deserve to find yourself while you're here, or whatever truth you're searching for at least."

My lips parted, though I had nothing to really say to that.

His belief in me to change, or rather, become a different person than the one who was caught and thrown into prison, was touching. Back home, I didn't have anyone. Not a mom or dad or any siblings who were eagerly waiting for me to get released.

That was what had made me so susceptible to my ex's attention. I basked in it, reveled in it, even, because it was the first time in my life that I truly felt wanted.

Hearing all of this was addictive.

Could I believe Jackson?

Did I want to?

I'd trusted my ex in much the same way and look where that had gotten me.

But this man was so much different than Alex. He was compassionate and dedicated with his work and with the inmates that were here, and he took the time to check in on me, even without me asking for it.

"I want to trust you," I whispered.

His lip quirked up into a smile. "You can."

My breath hitched as he leaned forward, his gaze darting down to focus on my lips.