Chapter 12 #2
Instinct, she said. The word is familiar.
A compass I’ve used ever since I became a cop.
One I heard my dad tell me so many times.
Instinct, son, it never lies. I take her small, cold hands in mine, taking my time, making sure she’s okay with it, and then I turn her hands palm-down.
I caress her knuckles as softly as my calloused hands can.
She shivers but doesn’t back away, her gaze locked on mine with an intensity I’ve never encountered.
You’re here for a year.
You won’t stay.
Only it’s too good, the intimacy, the unknown promises, the familiar closeness of Alaska.
More than that, there’s her cinnamon scent, her voice, her PJs that leave so little to the imagination.
It’s in the small things, the way she grounds me with her presence alone, how she seems shaken and out of breath at the same time.
Right now, I don’t care that I’ll have to go back to Minneapolis soon, or that there’s so much I still don’t know about her, or that I haven’t found a way to get rid of my stutter.
Right now, all I can think of is her and the hurt I wish I could erase from her porcelain skin.
I may not know what happened exactly, but I can try.
So I start kissing each finger, taking my time, making sure to cover each of them with my lips, my stubble brushing against her skin as I hear her breathing pick up.
I mark her hands with the unspoken words stuck in me, each knuckle on her left hand, and then on the other.
She doesn’t back away, nor does she tell me to stop.
Her skin is velvet against my mouth, her fingers curling ever so slightly.
I kiss the war etched into her skin. The battlefield may have healed, but the trenches are still there.
Ready to split open again, screaming beneath the surface.
So close, you’d have to be blind not to see it.
After worshipping every inch of her delicate fingers, I flip her hands, and her breath hitches as I press my lips one last time to the center of her palms. Leaning back, I look at her.
She’s trembling, only it isn’t from fear.
I know that, ’cause she leans in a bit, not much, but enough to confirm my gut feeling.
There may be a storm out there, crashing at the walls and windows, but here, on her small sofa, time has stopped.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.
“I’m…” Her blue pools drown in mine, stripping away every layer of worry and stress I’ve been carrying.
I can’t hide, no matter how much I try, I always end up finding my way back to her.
Her gaze bores into me, brutally honest, so raw it makes my stomach churn.
She exhales, barely above a whisper. “...I like you, Jack.” The words sound like they scare her and they strike me like a fist to the gut.
She likes me.
Alaska Jenkins, the girl with the scars, the one I haven’t been able to get out of my system for weeks, likes me. Damn, if that doesn’t make my broken, dark heart skip a beat.
“But I can’t…” she whispers, her body betraying her as her hands find my chest and fist my vest like a life jacket. She says she can’t, but she’s not pushing me away, holding onto me like she’s scared I’ll disappear if she lets go.
“Alaska…” My voice is deep, my teeth aching from how tight my jaw is.
She’s so close, I can’t think straight. “It’s m-me…
I’m not right f-for you,” I manage to say, the admission tearing through my chest. There’s a sense of intimacy here I’ve never felt with anyone, one that goes far beyond flesh.
“I-I tried to st-stay away… I really t-t-tried.” I blink hard for a second, one hand drifting to cup the side of her face as she leans into me, embracing my touch like gasoline meeting fire.
“Jack, I…I’m the one trying to stay away from you,” she says. “But I…I can’t. Since I saw you, you’re-”
“All I think about,” I finish for her, my hand brushing her soft skin, wanting to run my fingers through her caramel locks.
“Yeah,” she breathes out. “Constantly.” Something squeezes inside my chest, sharp and cold, similar to diving into the waters of a frozen lake.
“With you, I-I don’t feel like a-a-a…” I stop. “A f-f-failure.” A tiny whimper slips from her, her gaze burning with frustration, maybe even anger.
“Don’t say that,” she murmurs, pushing a hand against my chest. “Never say that again.” Teary eyes meet mine, and I want to hold her in my arms. I hear her take a deep breath, her hands slowly tracing up the sides of my neck, so close I can barely breathe without inhaling her apple-pie scent, the one that’s slowly driving me insane.
“I want to… I want to p-protect you from whatever d-did this,” I confess, running my fingers over hers. She freezes at the touch, shaking her head.
“You’re…you’re a good man, Jack,” she says, her tone sad and resolved. “Too good for me.”
“I’m n-not—” I start, but she cuts me off. Only this time, I know that it isn’t from impatience.
“You are a good man,” she insists firmly, showing me a side of her I hadn’t seen yet, stronger, certain.
“And I’m…complicated is written on my forehead, Jack.
That’s the truth. No one should bear the burden of trying to be with me.
I’m not worth it. You have to believe me.
” She pleads, her small hands squeezing softly at the sides of my neck, her touch quieting the spasms beneath my skin.
“I think…” I clench my forearms, fighting the waves, pushing through the stutter. “I think you’re more than w-w-worth it. If anything, I-I’m the one unworthy of you.”
“What are you talking about? All the single women in Lakeside have eyes on you. You’re young, smart, about to become sergeant—”
“First of all, no woman in Lakeside is even remotely, uh, interested, and-and e-even if they were, I’m not.” My thumb runs over her lower lip. “And s-second of all, I’ve got complicated written on my forehead too. Just ’cause you don’t see it right away doesn’t mean it’s n-not there.”
“Tell me.” She frowns, not believing me.
“I need to get r-r-rid of my stutter. It’s,” I clear my throat, “ruining my life and my opportunities at work. Most-most of the time, I don’t even speak so people don’t have to hear me, but it, it s-s-sucks.
I’ve spent a lifetime with people finishing my sentences, getting imp-impatient.
It’s not a-a-a big deal,” I pause, releasing the tension in my neck, “but at the same t-t-time, it k-kinda, kinda is. My father always admired cops, so I b-became one. I gotta become the best I can, that’s what he’d have, he’d have wanted. ”
“Jack,” she murmurs, “You can’t live your life for someone else.
... Even if that’s what your dad wanted.
” Since he passed, all I could think of was the police academy.
I’ve been a patrol officer for a while now, and the next logical step is sergeant.
It never occurred to me that I could become anything else.
“I just… I just want to do th-the right thing. Only no matter what I do, it always b-backfires.”
“You protect people,” she says softly, a balm to my wounds.
“You’re a good man, Jack. I’ll stand by that.
When I saw you at the supermarket, the way you took charge and made sure everyone was safe,” digging her teeth in her lower lip, “Your stutter didn’t matter then, and it doesn’t now.
You’re…brave. I wish, I wish I was more like you. ”
“Y-you know why I was that calm under pressure th-that d-day?” I ask, letting out a shaky breath.
“’Cause I felt your presence right-right behind me.
I swear, I didn’t even need to turn to see you.
I j-just knew.” She frowns, her hands returning to mine, our fingers interlacing, a bridge between two wildfires eager to meet.
“I-I calmed you down?” she asks.
“You did.”
“But—”
“You make whatever m-makes me this way go away. You make it b-b-better, Alaska. Even if I still st-stumble on words, it bothers me less when I’m w-with you.
Look—” I let out a rough chuckle, “when I passed your door, I was overwhelmed as hell, and you just…I don’t know…
” Her eyes widen, watching me with wonder. “You just m-made it all go away.”
“Jack—”
“No. I can’t hear you say one more t-time that you’re not worthy.
” I clear my throat, my heart hammering against my ribs, warning me about the words I’m about to let out, the ones that have been chained inside me for weeks.
“I want t-t-to try,” I tell her. “This.” I glance down at our hands, my voice hoarse, the words heavy and real.
“You’re going away soon,” she murmurs, her big eyes glassy with tears I can’t quite read.
“In t-ten months,” I remind her, and myself.
What am I doing? Why am I playing with fire here?
Instead of following logic, I look at her, hungry, desperate for anything she’s willing to give me. Even if I can’t have her heart, then I’ll settle for the crumbs of it.
“A lot can happen in ten months,” I murmur.
Alaska
There’s no more ice-cold blood in me. It’s been replaced by a boiling, hot, crimson liquid, flushing my cheeks and warming my belly with butterflies. So many butterflies, I’ve never experienced that before.
A lot can happen in ten months.
I hold my breath, his body so close I want to nestle in the crook of his neck and stay there forever.
His jacket is damp against my fingers, the scent of rain and mint clinging to the fabric.
Beneath it, I can feel the rise and fall of his chest, slightly uneven, like he’s trying to control his breathing.
I lift my gaze, and his golden stubble catches the dim light, the roughness of it tempting me to brush my fingertips over his jaw.
His lips are slightly parted, his breath warm against my skin, tinged with something crisp and cool, gum maybe, or the lingering trace of toothpaste.
Whatever it is, I wish I could taste it.
“Jack…” I whisper, as if I had any right to claim his name.
My voice is barely a murmur, but it carries between us, charged with the danger of unspoken wants.
His gaze darkens, flickering to my lips, his own pressing together as if he’s trying to keep himself in check.
Only I see the way his throat bobs, the way his hands tighten slightly against my face as he cups both sides of my jaw, the motion running slightly on my neck and dropping goosebumps all over my skin as a result.
The space between us sparkles, turns thick, something I barely understand but feel all the way down to my toes.
“Alaska…” His voice is hoarse, rasping against me like a match striking, and I feel the heat of it everywhere.
Slowly, we lean in, both of us, drawn by something bigger than reason.
My fingers tighten around his thick forearms, my pulse hammering in my ears.
His lips hover just above mine, one breath away from a moment I know I’ll never come back from-
A sharp crackle splits the air.
“Unit 24, we have a family stuck in their home, 579 Farren Road. Respond ASAP,” someone’s voice grumbles.
The murmur of a curse breaks our spell as Jack leans back, his hand leaving my face, the loss like water vanishing down the drain, leaving me cold and alone.
He sighs, his amber pupils going back and forth between my gaze and my lips, a low growl of frustration coming out of him as he snaps himself back to reality.
I swallow the lump in my throat as disappointment settles deep in my chest.
Did I really want that to happen?
Why am I so disappointed?
“Go,” I whisper. He exhales sharply, frowning like this is physically painful to him, and then reaches for his radio.
“21 to 24, on my way,” he rasps, standing and towering above me. “Don’t leave your house,” he commands me without a single stumble.
“I won’t,” I answer instinctively.
“Your area should be okay, b-but if you need me, just-just call the station, I’ll be there in a…in a heartbeat.”
“I will.”
“I’ll check on you t-t-tomorrow morning,” he declares. “Just—” he runs a hand on his tired, handsome face, “just stay s-s-safe, okay? I-I can’t be out there if I’m not-” He doesn’t finish his sentence, as if it would give him away. I don’t like seeing him like this. Stressed. Worried.
“I’m safe. Just go,” I murmur, hoping to appease him.
“Alaska, when-when I’ll see you again, there’s things I-I-I want to t-t-tell you.”
“We’ll talk then,” I assure him, the confidence coming from out of nowhere.
He nods, his chest rising higher, and I sense a strange familiarity with wives of soldiers, reassuring their husbands before they leave for war.
Only Jack isn’t my husband, and I’m not his wife.
We’re two people drawn to each other for reasons both of us can’t even seem to grasp.
Long-lost lovers, tearing ourselves apart as if it was painful and unnatural.
Jack leans in and rests a hard kiss on my forehead, the touch lighting my heart on fire.
The organ beats so fast I’m afraid it’ll jump out of me.
Without another word, he turns and leaves, the door closing behind him mirroring the window opening in my chest.
He came to see me. He was worried, and I found a way to appease him.
I didn’t know I could do that. That I could bring something good to this world.
Perhaps not all is lost. Maybe there’s still a glimpse of me that’s worth it.
I exhale loudly and crash on my sofa, one hand on my forehead, wishing I could still feel the brush of his lips on it.
Jack kissed me tonight, and my world just rocked out of its axis.