Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Ayen

I slept well that night, surrounded by a comfortable bed and pillows that felt like heaven against my face.

It'd been two long years since I'd slept on a proper mattress with actual back support and not the flimsy material of my foam mattress back in my cell with a steel bed frame underneath it. Two long ass years since I'd actually felt well rested by the time I finally blinked my eyes open in the morning.

I stretched my arms over my head and sank further into the covers surrounding me. Jackson's scent was all over them, enveloping me in him just like his jacket had. I savored it all, memorizing it for when I was back in my cellblock at SAC later on today when the bus finally came to pick us all up and bring us back.

As sad as it was to be leaving this place after only a few days, I couldn't say I regretted any of it.

Especially meeting Jackson.

I was never going to see the man again after this, and while that kind of choked me up inside, at least I was able to see him one last time before leaving. It seemed so silly to be lusting after a man I barely knew in the grand scheme of things—but even if it was just the idea of him that I had been enamored with, that was something that I would cherish for the rest of my time while I was locked up.

The entire time he'd been nothing but kind to me, going out of his way to help me when he was never asked to. He was a good man, one that anyone would be lucky enough to know, let alone be with.

Sitting up, I peeled back the covers and climbed to my feet. My entire body cracked, easing the tension in my bones almost immediately.

Damn, I was going to miss this bed.

There was a delicious smell wafting from down the hallway that I found myself following. I spotted Jackson in the kitchen cooking something over the stovetop. His shirt was off and he was in just a pair of sweats that did everything to highlight the kind of assets he had.

Jesus, as if my lusting for him wasn't bad already.

Most likely feeling me staring, he glanced over his shoulder at me and flashed me a smile. "Morning."

I blinked a few times, trying to clear the image of his body now ingrained into my brain. Roxy lifted herself up from where she'd been laying down on the floor over by the dining table and trotted over to me, her tongue hanging out of her mouth as she panted happily.

I bent down to pet her before turning back to Jackson. "What time is it?"

He glanced over at the clock before answering. "Just after eight."

My eyes widened. "I need to get over to the bus."

"Woah, woah, woah." He grabbed my arm just as I was starting to head for the door. "It already left."

" What ?"

Oh fuck, fuck, fuck.

I was in such deep shit.

"Yeah, about two hours ago."

If there wasn't solid ground under my feet, I had no doubt I would've melted into the damn Earth.

Fuck, I was in so much trouble.

Why the hell didn't the COs come looking for me when the bus had come?

Could they not find me?

It wasn't like they had a giant headcount to keep track of. There were only four of us! As soon as SAC found out I was still here, I was going to be thrown in the hole the second I got back.

Anxiety spiked inside of my chest at the thought.

I'd only been there once and it had been the worst three days of my life. I never knew that I was the kind of person who needed human interaction in order to survive but I sure learned that weekend.

"Ayen…" Jackson's voice jerked me out of my thoughts. "You're all right. The bus already left."

"That's the problem ." I could hear the shaking in my voice. "I was supposed to be on it."

He shook his head. "No you weren't, honey. You're staying here at the program."

Wait, what?

I stared at him, trying to find the hidden joke that he was trying to tell.

Was this some kind of prank?

A test?

To see if I'd go along with it and not correct him, therefore making it seem like I was taking his word over my COs?

They'd be the type to do that fucked up shit.

Especially Stinner.

Oh fuck.

Roxy whined at me, her nails tippy-tapping against the hardwood floor as she shifted foot-to-foot.

Jackson set down the wooden spoon he'd been using to move around whatever was in the pan and then turned the burner off. When he faced me, he cupped his hand around my face, tilting it up to look at him.

"You didn't get left behind by accident, if that's what you're thinking."

I blinked at him again.

Wait, what?

He smiled a little. "I talked with the Warden this morning when he called and explained what I saw last night. He agreed that it wouldn't be in the program's best interest to punish you when you had nothing to do with the fight."

My mouth fell open.

What?

He went out of his way to talk to the Warden ?

His thumb trailed along my cheek gently, sending a shiver up my spine. His touch was so gentle that it made me want to lean into it more. "You wanted to stay here, right?"

I nodded, completely shell-shocked.

He'd defended me to the Warden?

But why?

What did he even get out of that?

I was one less number to worry about if I was gone.

Holy shit, I owed this man my damn life.

Or at the very least, some kind of favor.

Was that why he'd done it?

To get something out of me?

I couldn't imagine what the fuck he'd want from an inmate who had nothing to give. I didn't have any money and I certainly didn't have any pull with any of the local gangs.

I was essentially useless to him.

So then, why?

"I want you to finish out this program," Jackson went on. "I think it'll be good for you. Maybe you don't agree with me but that's the way I see it. This program isn't about toughening people up or teaching them to learn a bunch of useless facts about fire fighting. It's about finding the piece inside of you that is dedicated to helping people. I may not know you, Ayen, but I can tell that you can understand that."

I swallowed thickly.

Even though Jackson would never know it, his words meant a lot to me.

Up until the day I'd gotten arrested, I'd been considered a wallflower, a shy and naive boy who never knew what he wanted out of life. There wasn't a day that passed by where I didn't feel like I was in the way or that I was a burden to someone.

Especially my ex.

Even now, two years later, it hurt to think about.

All those nights I'd spent trying to convince him that I wasn't meant to be some house husband who stayed in line and did whatever he wanted—I had dreams and passions, too, and just because I didn't know what they were or where I wanted to go with them, didn't mean that they weren't real .

Hearing Jackson talk about something like that had the memories of my past flooding back into my mind, reminding me of the person I'd always been dying to be but never got a chance to because the justice system was fucking rigged. No one cared about a kid who was barely legal at the time being manipulated for years on end to the point of snapping and doing something that could never be taken back.

All anyone saw of me now was a cold-blooded murderer. Not the abused husband who'd been trying to run away only to get caught in the end.

But not Jackson.

He saw the real me.

Or at least until he found out about what I'd been sent to prison for. I was sure after that, he'd change his tune real fast.

Most people did, but then again, could I really blame them?

Until then though, I'd bask in his confidence in me.

"Thank you," I said quietly.

He smiled and slowly let go of me. "Did you want something to eat? I made pancakes. They're probably not as good as the ones down at the mess hall, but they do the job."

My skin burned where he'd touched. The remnants of the heat of his hand on me felt like a brand that I never wanted to fade. I liked how it felt, him touching me so casually and like we'd been doing this for a while.

I swallowed again and nodded, taking a seat in one of the chairs at his small dining table, Roxy following me over to join me.

I watched the muscles in his back move as he grabbed the pan and jiggled the pancakes out onto a plate, giving me a nice show on how strong he really was underneath all of that firefighting gear. Even without him being shirtless like that, I knew he was built. But seeing him without anything covering the stark contrasts of his muscles had me wanting to reach out and touch them.

He was certainly strong enough to throw me, all one hundred and thirty pounds, over his shoulder like I was nothing.

"Syrup?" he asked, while opening the fridge.

"Sure, thank you."

He hip-checked it shut before walking over to me with the plates, the bottle of thick syrup tucked under his arm.

The smell was divine as the plate was set down in front of me. He drizzled a nice helping of syrup over my pancakes before moving it over to his and doing the same. A set of silverware was already laid out nicely on a cloth napkin next to me.

"Thank you... for everything, Mr. Hall." I spoke quietly, not at all surprised when Roxy nuzzled her face onto my thigh.

He chuckled. "Please, call me Jax."