Chapter 31
CHAPTER 31
JACKSON
After a few more hours at the hospital, we finally push through the door of Meyer’s cottage. She leans heavily into me, ready to fall asleep at any moment.
“I’m beyond ready for bed,” she says, pulling away from me. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth.”
“You okay on your own?”
She gives me her signature eye roll, and fuck, if that doesn’t ease some of my worries. “I’ve been brushing my own teeth for twenty years, Hotshot. I think I’ve got it covered.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. But I still watch her walk down the hall, just in case. Once the bathroom door shuts behind her, I take my time locking up the cottage. Then I head for Meyer’s bedroom.
Just as I flick on the bedside lamp, my phone vibrates with a text.
Pippa
How’s our girl?
Tired but okay. We’re finally home.
Pippa
Thank you, Jackson.
For what?
Pippa
For being good to her. I had a feeling you would be.
My throat tightens with emotion. I was so scared earlier. When Meyer said she had been in an accident, I got tunnel vision. The only thing I knew was that I had to get to her—to see with my own eyes that she was alive and breathing.
Pippa had been with me in the office. She was off today, but she happened to stop by to drop something off. One look at my face and she had led me to her car, no questions asked. We got to the hospital in record time. She would have come inside if she hadn’t needed to go home to her son.
Thanks for the ride. You’re surprisingly fast. Ever thought about joining F1?
Pippa
Haha. Just because I’m a mom doesn’t mean I drive like a grandma.
Now get some sleep!! Tell Meyer I’ll come see her in the morning.
I set my phone on the dresser and then cross to the bed, pulling back the corner of the comforter on Meyer’s preferred side of the mattress. Just as I finish, I hear soft footsteps pad into the room, and then she enters.
“Pippa says to expect a visit from her tomorrow,” I say, as I work on unbuttoning the sleeves of my shirt. If she thinks I’m leaving her alone tonight, she’s mistaken.
When Meyer doesn’t respond, I look up. She stands in the centre of the room, arms wrapped around her middle. The stricken expression on her face makes my stomach drop to my feet. She looks seconds away from breaking down.
I carefully approach. “What’s wrong?”
A stupid question after the day she’s had. What isn’t wrong right now? She’s hurt, and it never should have happened.
“The brakes didn’t work,” she croaks. “Why didn’t they work?”
I’ve been asking myself the same question since she mentioned it at the hospital. I wasn’t sure where my car had been towed at first, but I managed to find out that it was taken to an auto body shop in Calderville. My insurance company—and the police, since Meyer had to give them a statement at the accident site—also wants to know why the brakes failed, so my car will remain at the shop until they can assess all the damage.
I take good care of my car, though. I’m always on time with my oil changes, and I have it inspected regularly. It was last serviced two months ago. The brakes were perfectly fine then.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I’m not sure what to say. I don’t want to scare her when I can tell she’s already spiralling. But I can’t lie either.
“I don’t know, baby.”
I open my arms to her, and she steps into them. All I can offer right now is to hold her, so that’s what I do. Her body sags against mine, grateful that I’m bearing the weight of the day. I’d take it gladly.
She inhales a shaky breath and then pulls back. “Do you think it’s all connected?”
I know what she’s implying, but I’m wary to voice it. “Is what all connected?”
“All the fucked up shit that’s been happening,” she replies. “First the spray paint, the pictures, and then the fire in the storage room. Now your brakes. What if they were tampered with? It’s like someone’s out to get us. Or me.”
“You think Reggie could be capable of all this?”
Our former employee, as far as we know, is still in the wind. He was suspect number one when the spray paint occurred, but if that wasn’t an isolated incident, I’m not sure. Surely someone would have seen him if he’s been lurking around, causing trouble. It isn’t exactly easy to hide when everyone knows everyone in this town.
She shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe? I didn’t think he was capable of stealing from the register, yet he did.”
“Theft and vandalism are a far cry from arson and tampering with brakes.”
The consequences of the latter are a lot more severe. Meyer could have died today. The fire in the storage room could have trapped numerous guests if they hadn’t all been evacuated in time. If that fire extinguisher hadn’t been there, who knows what would have happened to me.
If someone is behind all of this, they are playing a dangerous game with other people’s lives.
“Whoever this is, they don’t seem like they’re going to stop,” Meyer says. Her voice cracks. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
I frame her face in my hands. My thumb brushes her cheekbone as I meet her gaze.
“We’ll get through this,” I assure her. “Everything will be okay.”
I try desperately to keep the uncertainty from my voice. The truth is, I don’t know what’s going to happen. If, like Meyer said, whoever this is doesn’t stop, someone is going to get hurt. It’s only a matter of time, especially if they escalate.
She nods at my words, but I know the reassurance is temporary. We’re both aware that I can’t promise anything, not really.
“Alright,” I say, “time for bed. Do you need anything? Water?”
With a small wince, she sits on the edge of the mattress and then leans back against the headboard. “Water would be nice. Thank you.”
Her gratitude shines in her eyes, but it’s the least I can do for her. So I head out to the kitchen and pour her a glass. When I return, I find Meyer watching me. The expression on her face is hard to read. I settle on the bed beside her and then turn in her direction. She’s chewing on her bottom lip so hard, I’m surprised she hasn’t drawn blood.
“Please tell me this isn’t a guilt thing,” she says.
My brows furrow. “Is what a guilt thing?”
“This.” She waves her hands around. “This fussing all over me, getting me water.”
While some part of me would always wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t let her borrow my car—if I had driven her myself instead—that isn’t why I’m here right now. In truth, there is nowhere I would rather be, whether Meyer was hurt or not.
Fussing over her, in a situation where I feel almost no sense of control, helps me stay calm.
“This,” I say, handing her the glass, “is an I want to take care of you because you’ve had a long day thing. Is that acceptable?”
Her head cocks to the side as she thinks. “Yeah, I think that’s acceptable. As long as you don’t go off the deep end and start offering up your organs or something.”
I laugh. “I think I can agree to that.”
While she drinks her water, I get myself ready for bed, and then I slide beneath the sheets right beside her. I’m hesitant to touch her, but she makes the decision by shifting closer to me.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say as I tense.
She shakes her head. “You won’t.”
I take her hand and intertwine our fingers. “Not taking any chances.”
She rolls her eyes, but a soft smile slips onto her lips. “Thank you,” she whispers.
I tighten my hand in hers. “What are you thanking me for?”
Her shoulder lifts in a half shrug. “I know I don’t make caring about me all that easy,” she replies sheepishly. “Thanks for doing it anyway.”
I’m already shaking my head. “I don't know who let you believe that you’re difficult to care about, but I’d like to have a word with them. Because let me tell you, Meyer, it’s the easiest thing I've ever done."
Tears pool in her eyes. The stopper she put on her emotions after the crash has fully come free now. I resent the pain in her gaze, but it’s much better than the robotic numbness that took over instead.
One tear falls and then another. Soon, a cascade of them is trailing down her cheeks. She presses her face against my chest and finally, finally lets go. Lets go of everything she’s been holding in these past weeks, months—hell, maybe years.
Her catharsis is a living, breathing thing between us. It eats at my resolve, the need to dry her tears. But she needs this release more than I wish I didn’t have to see her cry. So I hold tight to her hand, never wanting to let it go.
Eventually, the tears cease, and then her breathing slows as she slips into sleep. My own eyes feel heavy with exhaustion, but I don’t let myself close them. Not yet. I need to drink her in for a while.
When I first came to Fraisier Creek, I never imagined that I would be here. My feelings for Meyer have shifted so abruptly, I’m not sure when the change even happened. But I do know that hearing her say she was in the hospital had never made me feel so panicked.
And I know, without a doubt, that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her safe. I just worry that won’t be enough.