Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12
Jackson
We avoided each other for the rest of the day—or rather, I kept my distance.
I couldn't bear to look at Ayen if it turned out I really had misstepped and crossed over a major boundary and he now hated me for it. I wouldn't blame him, as I would obviously feel the same in his shoes. To have someone you trusted pressure you into something...
Fuck.
My head was an entire mess, toggling between replaying exactly what happened and filling in the blanks of what ‘could've been'.
The noise he'd made had been enticing, but it wasn't like I could judge anything off of just that.
He hadn't leaned away from me or fought me off, but what if he'd simply been scared?
I had no idea what his past was like, and aside from that small glimpse the night I'd pulled him out of his cabin after that fight, I couldn't exactly claim to know anything.
The more time I spent with Ayen, the more I wanted to get to know him. He had a deep inner world that I was desperate to learn about, especially when he got caught up in whatever memory or thoughts that took him out of our conversation for a time.
In all my years of doing this program, not once did I ever think about looking into an inmate's rap sheet. Yet, as soon as we'd all gotten back from our hike and the inmates had been sent to the mess hall for dinner, I was pulling up a chair at the COs table.
"You look like shit," one of the other COs said to Barlow once he slid into a chair at the table with a tray full of food.
"You try walking in eighty degree fucking heat with this fucking uniform," the man grumbled back, digging his fork through a scoop of corn.
"How's Gonzalez's foot, Hall?" one of the COs, Stinner, I think his name was, asked. "Heard he was hobbling around all afternoon."
I paused with my fork at my mouth as I tried to think of some excuse.
"He's probably faking it," Browne chimed in. "Remember what he was like when he first got put onto the unit?"
The entire table erupted into laughter, which made my blood boil.
But I could either sit there and be mad at them for talking shit, or I could use this to my advantage and dig up some info out of them on the man who was beginning to haunt my every thought.
"Why? What was he like?" I asked.
Browne scoffed. "He acted like this scared little puppy. Always trying to get sent to the infirmary for... what the fuck was his excuse?"
"Panic attacks," Stinner volunteered.
Browne jabbed his fork in the direction of his coworker, nodding. "Yeah. That shit. Funny considering he's a hot one . So I don't know why the fuck he was trying to play the baby bird card."
My brows shot up practically into my hairline. "Pardon?"
Stinner leaned over toward me. "He's got a body on his rap."
"Stop talking, both of you," Barlow snapped. "Hall, you keep that shit to yourself or we're all fucked up the ass by the state."
I ripped my gaze away from the group in order to scan through the entire mess hall, searching for him—my so-called baby bird. It took me a minute to find him tucked into the corner away from everyone else, where he ate quietly by himself.
Was that why everyone stayed away from him?
Because they were scared?
But they're all non-violent.
For some reason, remembering that eased me.
Ayen wasn't violent, of course he wasn't. He was the furthest thing from it. Murdering someone was serious, but to be in this program, it had to be either a complete accident or for a good reason. He wouldn't have been let out of SAC otherwise.
How long was his sentence, anyway?
That'd give me a good indication on what kind of charge it was.
Underneath the table, my leg began to bounce.
"Hall, you hear me?" Barlow said.
"Yeah, no worries. I'm not all that interested in his background," I lied. "I'm here to make sure they all walk out of this program still alive."
Stinner laughed. "Close call the other night with that fight?"
"Where the fuck did they swipe the cards from, anyway?" Browne asked.
"Who knows and who fucking cares."
My mind wandered as their conversation deviated from Ayen. My heart squeezed; watching him eating alone by himself as he hunched over his food had me fighting the urge to go over there and claim a spot at his table. His gaze was moving slowly around the hall, taking in the other inmates around him, until he caught sight of me watching him.
A small, quick, smile was flashed my way before he looked back down at his food again.
My entire body relaxed at the sight of it.
Was I forgiven for earlier?
Without any hesitation, my mind was made up. I had to know.
Later tonight, after lights out, I'd sneak over to his cabin to talk to him about what happened during our hike.
I had to make sure we were still good or else it was going to kill me.