Chapter Twenty-Three
Karlyn
“Jackson, why are we camping and not at the clubhouse?” I asked, looking around the thick forest as he kneeled before a pile of branches and twigs, stacking them in a pyramid.
“Because we’re not safe at the clubhouse,” Jackson replied, his voice low as he struck a match.
The small flame flickered, then caught, igniting the dry tinder.
“Not with the war that’s brewing. Not with the price on my head.
We’re safer out here, where the world can’t easily find us.
” He added more wood, the flames leaping higher, casting dancing shadows on his face.
The primal instinct he’d taught me—to listen to the forest, to become one with it—was all I had now. The woods, once a place of fear and mystery, were slowly becoming my sanctuary, a silent testament to his lessons.
I watched him; the firelight glinting off the scars that crisscrossed his arms, each one a story I was still learning to read.
He was a paradox—a man forged in violence, yet capable of such tenderness.
My past had been a storm of betrayals and pain, but he, he was my anchor, my defiant act of survival.
“But what about the others, Jackson? What about your friends?” My voice was a whisper, barely audible above the crackling fire.
I knew he wouldn’t lie, wouldn’t sugarcoat it.
He never did. He finally looked at me, his blue eyes, usually so hard and fierce, softened by the firelight.
“Everyone has their battles, Karlyn. Some fight with bullets, some with words. We’ll fight ours.
But you”—he reached out, his calloused thumb tracing the line of my jaw, a gesture that sent a familiar tremor through me—“you just need to survive. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you do. ”
Jackson paused, his eyes reflecting the flickering light.
“They know how to take care of themselves,” he finally said, a note of reassurance in his voice.
“But right now, keeping you safe is all that matters to me. The others will lie low, just like we are.” He reached over, squeezing my hand gently, the gesture grounding me amidst the uncertainty.
The night settled around us, the sounds of distant wildlife a reminder that, for now, we were hidden from the chaos closing in. I let myself lean into the warmth of the fire and the steady presence at my side, hope battling fear as we faced the unknown together.
Nestled between his legs, with his arms wrapped tightly around me, I watched the fire dance as the forest came alive.
I never imagined my life would turn out this way.
Long before my world was turned upside down, I was nothing more than a silly, na?ve girl.
I knew nothing about the dangers of this world.
Oh, I knew there were bad things that happened, but I believed that my momma and daddy would protect me.
I never thought that they would be the reason, the cause of the woman I was today.
I thought it odd that I never thought about them.
Never wondered what happened to them. I didn’t even know if they were still alive, and when I really thought about it; I knew I didn’t care.
Like her, they were a reminder of everything horrible and nasty in this world.
“Jackson?”
“Hmm.”
“Am I a bad person?”
Jackson chuckled, tightening his hold. “Baby, you are one of the sweetest, gentlest people I know. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why are you asking this?”
“Because I’m not,” I whispered. “Not really.”
“What’s going on? Talk to me.”
Taking a deep breath, I muttered, “I tried to kill her.”
“Kill who, baby?”
“Her. Before she was born. I tried to kill her.”
Sighing, Jackson held me close. “Ah.”
Turning to look at him, I asked, “Does that make me a bad person?”
Cupping my face, Jackson relaxed his expression, sympathy and understanding shining in his eyes. “No, Karlyn. That doesn’t make you a bad person. She’s a reminder. A living, breathing reminder of what you survived. It’s perfectly normal for you to feel the way you do.”
“I can’t even look at her. I hate her. I think Karl is disappointed in me.”
“Ink can go fuck himself. He didn’t have to live through what you did.”
“I think Daphne understands. She tries to keep her away from me.”
“Daphne is a gentle soul, like yourself. She feels more than most.” Jackson gently smiled.
“Whether you love or hate Wrenly, know that your brother and Daphne love and adore her. They’ve adopted her.
Wrenly never need know how she came into this world, Karlyn.
As for how you feel about her, you have every right to feel the way you do.
Only you know what you survived, endured, suffered.
Screw everyone who tells you to feel differently. ”
“I just... I just can’t get past it, Jackson,” I whispered, my words catching in my throat, thick with unshed tears.
“The thought of her existing. Of her breathing the same air I do. It’s like a constant reminder of everything.
” I buried my face in his chest, the rough leather of his jacket a familiar comfort.
“I don’t want her here. I don’t want to see her.
And I think... I think Karl hates me for it. ”
Jackson’s arms tightened around me, a silent acknowledgment of my pain.
He didn’t offer platitudes, didn’t try to force me to feel differently.
He just held me, his steady presence a much-needed anchor.
“Ink doesn’t hate you, Karlyn,” Jackson murmured, his voice a low rumble against my hair.
“He loves you. And he understands. He knows what you went through. And he knows that sometimes, surviving means cutting ties with things that poison you. Wrenly... she’s a consequence of that poison.
It doesn’t make you a bad person for wanting to distance yourself from it. ”
“But she’s innocent,” I choked out, my words brittle and painful. “She didn’t do anything.”
“She’s a living, breathing reminder,” Jackson countered, his voice firm.
“And you have every right to protect yourself from that reminder. Your feelings are valid, Karlyn. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
What happened to you... it was monstrous.
And you survived it. That makes you strong, not bad.
” He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes, usually so hard, now filled with a tender understanding.
“And we’ll figure out how to keep her away from you.
We’ll make sure you don’t have to see her.
You focus on healing. That’s all that matters right now. ”
Jackson brushed a stray tear from my cheek, his hands warm and steady.
“Wrenly is like you in a lot of ways—she is innocent. And like you, none of this is her fault. But trauma leaves scars that don’t always make sense to anyone else.
It’s okay to grieve, to feel conflicted.
You don’t have to force forgiveness or force yourself to care before you’re ready.
Give yourself time.” He kissed the crown of my head, silent and gentle, letting me sob quietly, his arms never wavering.
In that moment, I let myself cry, finally allowing the grief and guilt and anger to spill out between us, safe in the certainty that Jackson wouldn’t let me drown.
Gradually, my sobs faded, leaving me hollow but somehow lighter.
The weight pressing on my chest loosened, just a fraction, as Jackson continued to hold me in the quiet darkness.
I drew a shaky breath, wiping at my cheeks, and felt the smallest spark of hope flicker somewhere deep inside.
Maybe with time and with people like Jackson by my side, I could heal the wounds I kept hidden so well.
For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t completely alone with my pain.
The forest seemed to exhale around us, the fear that had coiled in my gut beginning to loosen its grip.
Jackson’s steady presence, the warmth of his arms around me, was a bulwark against the lingering dread.
The fire crackled, a small, defiant beacon against the encroaching night, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I allowed myself to feel a fragile sense of peace.
The weight of my past, the monstrous things I had endured, still pressed down, but for this moment, in the quiet embrace of the wilderness and the man who had become my sanctuary, I felt a flicker of something akin to hope.
“Jackson?” I whispered, the sound barely disturbing the stillness. He shifted, his arms tightening around me, a silent acknowledgment. “Do you regret it?” My question, heavy with unspoken fears and lingering doubts, hung in the air between us.
“Regret what, baby?” His voice was a low rumble, a comforting sound that smoothed the jagged edges of my anxiety.
I shook my head, the movement small against his chest. “Sleeping with me?” My words felt too fragile, too inadequate to capture the enormity of what had transpired. He chuckled, a soft sound that vibrated through me, his thumb tracing slow circles on my knuckles.
“I wouldn’t change a thing,” he said quietly, his gaze meeting mine, reflecting the firelight in their depths. “Not the pain, not the joy. Because it led me here—to you.” His words settled, a warmth spreading through me, a promise that held more weight than any vow.
Moments later, the quiet was broken by his murmured question. “Do you?”
I shook my head again, a slow, deliberate movement.
No. I didn’t regret it. Not the shared vulnerability, not the raw, unbridled passion.
Not the moment where our shared pain had somehow woven us together, forging a bond that felt unbreakable.
Then, before I could even fully process my affirmation, his lips were on mine again, a kiss that was no longer a desperate claiming, but a tender surrender.
His kiss deepened, a silent conversation of shared scars and burgeoning hope.
The fire crackled, a warm hearth in the encroaching darkness, and for the first time since that horrific night, I felt a fragile peace settle over me.
Jackson’s arms were a fortress, his presence a promise of protection against a world that had tried to break me.
He didn’t force me to feel differently, didn’t demand forgiveness or understanding.
He simply held me, his steady presence a testament to the bond forged in the fires of our shared trauma.
“I don’t regret it either,” I finally whispered, my voice thick with emotion. My words felt true, a declaration of the unexpected solace I’d found in our tangled, broken existence.
He pulled back, his blue eyes, usually so fierce, now softened with a tenderness that both thrilled and terrified me as his thumb brushed a tear from my cheek. “I love you, Karlyn Ingalls. You’re mine now and forever. Mine to love. Mine to protect.”
I smiled up at him, tenderly caressing his face, wanting to say those same words back to him when a loud pop broke the silence. Stiffening, I looked around and asked, “What was that?”
“Nothing, baby. Absolutely nothing,” he said right before he smiled so brilliantly it almost blinded me, and a flood of emotions burst forth from my chest, so achingly beautiful I wanted to weep.