Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jackson
You’re a monster. You destroy everything you touch.
She’s not wrong.
I’ve spent years trying to justify my actions, wrapping them in pretty words like “protection” and “necessity.” But standing here in this suffocating silence, I can’t escape the truth Ava just threw at me.
Regardless, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.
I stare down at her, taking in every detail of her face.
She’s so beautiful. No makeup. No pretense.
She’s always been this way, comfortable in her own skin.
She’s never chased trends or worried about what people think.
She gives zero fucks about all that, and damn, if that level of confidence doesn’t just make me want her more.
“I never claimed to be a good guy,” I say, my thumb tracing the line of her jaw.
“I guess it’s my fault, then.” Her eyes glisten, but I know she’s too damn stubborn to let a single tear fall. “All those years ago, I thought I saw something good in you. Something redeemable. Clearly, I was wrong.”
“Yeah.” I release her and take a step back, my chest suddenly tight. “Clearly.”
She glances away and pulls in a deep breath. When she looks back at me, the anger is gone, replaced with, I don’t know, uneasiness, maybe. “Seriously, Jackson. If there’s any part of you that still cares about me, then you’ll just let me go now.”
“I can’t do that.”
She glances away again to hide the tears, then she walks over and sits on the edge of the bed. I curl my hands into fists and pull in a deep breath. I could confess everything, tell her every detail about why she’s here. But it’s better if she thinks I’m the villain in her story…
It’s the role I know how to play. The role I’ve been playing for years.
“Is this about Chase?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Is he the reason you’re so desperate to leave?”
She glances at me sharply, unflinching. “You think this is about Chase?”
“Do you love him?” It’s the question that’s been plaguing me for months now, since I discovered they were dating.
I flex my hands at my sides. There was a time when I wouldn’t hesitate to reach out and touch her.
I needed the feel of her skin more than I needed the air in my lungs or the blood in my veins.
I’d memorized every dip and valley of her body.
Even now, I could close my eyes and map out every faint scar, every freckle, like constellations scattered across the canvas of her flushed skin.
“Yes,” she says.
My hand is around her throat in a split second. Now that makes her flinch. She whimpers, and I smile. Good. Let her feel the pain of my hand. Let it burn away the memory of every other guy who’s ever touched her…
“Funny, wasn’t long ago you said you loved me,” I bite out.
Her throat flicks under my palm as she blinks up at me. If she’s scared, she doesn’t show it. Most girls would be a puddle of tears by now.
“Some things change,” she says stiffly.
“And some things don’t,” I reply, pulling her an inch closer.
“Whatever you think this is between us,” she says. “It’s all in your head. Anything we had…it died three years ago.”
My fingers tighten around her throat—just slightly—and her eyelids flutter closed in anticipation.
In pleasure. Fuck, yeah. There’s my girl.
She can say whatever the fuck she wants, but I know her.
I know what she needs, what makes her breath hitch and her legs shake.
She can lie to herself all she wants, but she can’t hide this part of herself from me.
“Your heart is racing,” I murmur, leaning in until my breath brushes across her lips. “Your body tells the truth, even when your mouth doesn’t.”
She shudders, and I smile.
“Say whatever you want, baby. Fight me with your lies. But we both know how this ends…”