Chapter Twelve
LILY
I'm sorry, I must have misheard him because I swear he just told me he wants me to go to a safe house.
My eyes spring open, focusing on his face, even with the bruise and cut lip, it only adds to his allure,momentarily distracting me from my thoughts.It should be a crime to be so handsome.
“What do you mean a safe house?”
His piercing blue eyes hold mine.”I don'twant you going back to the house. Tommy will be with you. It will look as though you're both having a couples' getaway.”
Something about him referring to me and Tommy as a couple makes heat rush to my cheeks.
“I don't understand. You want to lock me up somewhere?”
He shakes his head. “No, nothing quite so extreme. Elliot is sorting something out with a friend. It would be no different than staying in an Air B and B.”
“But what if Mia comes home and I'm not there?”
“Then Tommy will bring you back.”
It's wishful thinking on my part. Christmas is only a few short weeks away. And there's nothing stopping Richard from keeping her whereverthey are until the new year. However, I doubt very much that she'll appreciate being away from me during the Christmas holidays. This whole thing has my mind reeling. He’s never spent that much alone time with her before, between school and the holidays, I’ve always been there.
My chest tightens, my breath quickens, and the air around me feels toothin.
“Hey, Duchess, are you okay?” Jackson's voice cuts through the fog, but I'm still struggling to focus—my heart pounds in my ears, and my vision blurs at the edges.
“I... I can't...” My throat feels as though it is closing up, and I clutch at my chest, desperate to draw in a full breath. Panic grips me. It's cold and unrelenting. I gasp, desperately trying to fill my lungs, but it's useless.
“Take deep breaths,” Jackson instructs. “In and out, slowly.”
I try in vain to follow his directions, but my body isn't cooperating. My vision narrows further, and dark spots fill my vision, my skin tingles, a numbness creeping over my body. I can feel the room spinning as though it's been tilted on its axis.
“No, I can't,” I manage to choke out, but the words are barely audible.
His voice becomes a soothing, deep murmur in my ear. “You're okay, Duchess. Just focus on my voice. Stay with me. Breathe. In and out...”
I try to mimic his breathing, forcing my lungs to comply. Gradually, the tightness in my chest begins to ease as the room comes back into focus. The fog lifts, and Jackson's concerned face is inches from mine, his piercing blue eyes like sapphires, watching me intently.
“There you are,” he says softly, his voice a balm to my senses. “I've got you. Just keep breathing.”
I nod weakly, my panic slowly receding but leaving behind a heavy exhaustion. My body is now drained, but at least I can breathe again. “Thank you,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. As I move to sit up, I realise he's on the bed with me, and somehow managed to pull me into his lap. When did he do that?
His hand rubs soothing circles over my lower back. “I've got you. We'll figure all of this out. I promise.”
I take another deep breath as I cling to his shirt. Because not knowing when I'll see Mia again and the thought of her being away from me for Christmas is like an axe to my heart.
He continues to hold me, his arms a solid and reassuring presence. I can feel some of the tension slowly seeping out of my body as I lean on him for support. My thoughts are still swirling but no longer spiralling out of control. The panic is gone, but the unanswered questions remain.
“Jackson,” I start, my voice a whisper. “How is this going to work? The safe house, I mean. Where will you, River and Elliot be while I'm with Tommy?”
His thumb rubs soothing circles over the bare flesh on my hip where my sleep shirt has risen. “We'll keep a low profile while searching for Richard and Mia. Elliot is already busy chasing the number Mia used to make contact, so we'll likely be heading to France,” he admits.
And the sudden thought of being separated from them sends a fresh wave of unease. My feelings for them all have grown into something I never expected.
“I hate the idea of being away from you,” I admit, my voice trembling. “From all of you.” Especially after having them all so close.
His grip tightens slightly, and he leans down to gently kiss my head. “I know. I hate it, too. But I've already let you down one time too many. I need to keep you safe—we need to keep you safe, and that's our priority right now.”
I nod in understanding but can't ignore the lingering sadness that engulfs me.
I close my eyes. This is all so much to take in. If I thought being run off the road and what happened at the gala was bad, it's nothing compared to what Richard's done. I know all the guys are carrying burdens over the most recent, but I don't blame any of them. I hate that I was weak when I should have tried harder to fight back. But I trust Jackson. I trust them all, it's not something I can explain, I just do. Still, the thought of hiding and waiting while they're out there fills me with fear.
“Shouldn't we all stick together?”
Jackson looks down at me. “Together?” he asks.
I nod. “Yes, I know it might sound strange. I've not known you for that long, and yet, in some way, I feel like I've always known you,” I reply, my face heating under his stare.
His lips lift into a smile, it's not something he does often. He's usually more stoic, so seeing the softer side of him melts my heart.
“The feeling is mutual, Duchess. We are all in this together, but we need to focus on fixing this and to do that, we need to know you're somewhere safe.”
He strokes my cheek softly with the back of his knuckle. His touch sends a shiver down my spine. “Believe me when I say the last thing I want is to be away from you.”
I want to look away from his piercing gaze, but there's something too hypnotic about the way he's so openly appraising me, revealing the truth in his words.
He leans in closer, his breath warm against my lips. “Duchess,” he murmurs, his tone deep, filled with emotion, “You are everything. Every. Fucking. Thing.”
The words hang in the air, his expression holding a tenderness I'd never have expected from Jackson. He closes the gap between us, his lips a gentle caress against mine.
I'm equally grateful and disappointed he keeps the kiss short. As much as I could quite happily get lost in his embrace, there's so much I'm still trying to process in my mind .
“Knock, knock,” a soft voice says as a nurse, Ida, who I saw earlier this morning, enters the room. “Hi Lily, I'm here to help you bathe and check over your dressings.”
A sigh leaves my lips. Yes, the thought of washing away the grime I feel just being here has me wanting to run straight to the bathroom.
Jackson nods, his mask firmly back in place as he eases me off his lap and moves to the chair, giving me and the nurse some room.
“Are you happy for him to stay, sweetheart?” she asks quietly.
I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Yeah, it's fine.”
My skin breaks out in goosebumps as my bare feet lower to the cold floor.
I can't say I won't be grateful to Avery for bringing me some more stuff. The guys brought me some basic toiletries and a nightshirt, but that was the extent of it. Not that I can blame them, their priority was getting me here and making sure I was being taken care of.
Once she's confident I'm okay to use the shower seat, Ida leaves me alone to wash. Unfortunately, I will need to wait until I'm out of here to wash my hair. Being careful not to get the stitches on my temple wet, I do my best to make the most of the shower. The smell of my once favourite shower gel fills the air, surrounding me with a mix of nostalgia and melancholy. I could smell it in my bathroom when Richard had me cornered, and that alone was enough to make me want to vomit. But I push it down and focus on soaping up and rinsing off. I don't think showering has ever felt so much like a chore before.
It was not as hot as I would’ve liked, and I wasn’t in there for nearly as long as I would’ve preferred, but when I'm done wrapping myself in a towel, I feel somewhat human… or as human as can be .
But any comfort I take from that slight reprieve is quickly stolen as I glance up at my reflection and finally bring myself to look—really look. My eyes are lacklustre, a dull grey void, and the skin below hangs heavy with dark shadows and light bruising. But the woman staring back at me is one I don't recognise. I lower my focus and open my towel to take in the bruising and lacerations marring my skin. The worst of which is still covered in gauze, something I'll have the pleasure of seeing beneath shortly, and I wonder if any will leave scars, adding to the burn scars on my lower back.
Will there be a permanent reminder of the man who put them there, too?
It was weird when I was in the confines of Jackson's arms. I felt something, but standing here now, I feel alone, cold—almost numb.
A tap at the door has me covering myself with the towel as Ida slips inside.
“Thought you might need a hand. I also brought you a clean shirt and underwear.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, but it's not enough to hide the crack in my voice.
“Everything will be all right, you'll see,” she says reassuringly, trying to keep her tone bright, but I don't miss the look of pity that crosses her face.
Once back in my room, she gets to work changing the gauze, and I do all I can to not look until she gets to the one on my arm.
A defensive wound , I vaguely recall the nurse from yesterday saying when going over my notes.
“Will it scar?” I ask.
Her eyes soften with a touch of sympathy. “Most likely, yes,” she replies.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I study the length of the laceration. It's ugly and raised and raw, even with the stitches, it's hard not to see the damage it's caused .
I feel a light caress down my other arm before fingers interlace with mine, and when I look over, Jackson is focused on my face, offering me his silent support as Ida redresses my wounds.