Page 93 of Middle Ground

“I won’t,” he promises.

He knows. He knows without my saying how hard all of this is for me. It’s not like I expect him to never wake up before me. I’m not that unreasonable. But after pouring my feelings out until I have nothing left inside me, I don’t want to be alone. I refuse to be alone.

After another moment, I pull back, pull myself together. “It looks like you managed to get into Fish’s good graces.”

“It’s a wonder what a little food can do.” He studies me for another moment, looking for signs of distress, maybe, but then he relaxes. “Come eat, it’s getting cold.”

Sitting on the island is more food than both of us will be able to eat. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausages, and home fries sit on plates. Beside them, a bowl of fruit salad.

I eye the spread as my stomach grumbles. “Did you make all this?”

His smile is embarrassed. “I left a very generous tip for the employees at the diner.”

I grin. “That’s okay. I still like you, even if you are just a pretty face.”

I feel him near my back, crowding me against the island. I spin in the cage of his arms to face him.

“Are you calling me pretty, Ellison?” he taunts.

“Maybe,” I reply. I pat his chest. “Don’t let it get to your head, Hotshot.”

“Any compliment from you is a straight shot to my ego.”

“Duly noted. We can’t let that get too inflated.”

“I recall you offering to stroke that ego a couple months ago.”

I roll my eyes, and he laughs. Then he leans in, and my eyes flutter shut. But his lips never meet mine. Instead, they brush against the crown of my head, and then Jackson is urging me toward the food again.

Warmth, unfamiliar but not unpleasant, rolls through me. This feeling is entirely new, but I already don’t want it to leave.

Now that the worry of Jackson being gone has subsided, the soreness starts to make itself known. My whole body aches, a low thrum that reminds me of what happened yesterday. Not that I could easily forget.

I grimace as I take a seat at the island. But before I can say anything, a glass of water and a pain pill are set in front of me.

I look up at Jackson, words getting caught in my throat. “Thank you for breakfast,” I say. “For taking care of me.”

His gaze is soft. Possibly even adoring. “Of course. Anything for you, baby.”

“How much longer?”

Jackson chuckles. “We’ve been in the car for two minutes.”

“I don’t like being unable to see!” He doesn’t respond. “I’m going to open my eyes,” I threaten.

“Baby, I promise we’re almost there. Keep them closed for a little while longer.”

I sigh as I settle against the back of the passenger seat in Jackson’s rental. The car was delivered from Calderville this morning. It isn’t as nice as his Audi, but it’s better than my piece of junk.

I heed Jackson’s plea and keep my eyes closed. True to his words, a few minutes later, I can feel the car come to a stop, and then the engine is being shut off. Jackson already told me to stay put until he could help me out, so I unbuckle my seatbelt and wait impatiently for him to round the hood.

“Here,” he says, “take my hand.”

I place my palm in his and let him guide me to wherever it is we’re going. We haven’t left Fraisier Creek, at least. Beyond that, I have no idea where we are.

I hear a door creak open, and then a familiar voice shouts, “Auntie M&M!”

My eyes pop open just in time to brace myself as Atticus comes barrelling toward me. Jackson reaches out, trying toslow him down so he doesn’t hurt me, but Atticus dodges him easily. I suck in a breath as he knocks into my legs, wrapping his little arms around me. I return the hug as I look, surprised, at Pippa and Declan standing in the doorway of their house.