CHAPTER 32
Anna
I woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains and the warm weight of Jaxon's arm draped across my waist. For a blissful moment, I forgot everything. Just existed in the cocoon of warmth and safety his presence provided.
Then I shifted slightly, and pain lanced through my face where the bruising had settled deep into the tissue. My wrists ached where the rope burns were healing beneath the long sleeves I'd worn to bed. Reality came crashing back.
But this morning felt different somehow. Lighter, maybe. Like we'd turned some invisible corner in the darkness and could finally see a sliver of light ahead.
Jaxon's breathing changed behind me, and I felt him press a soft kiss to my shoulder.
"Morning," he murmured, his voice still rough with sleep in a way that sent pleasant shivers down my spine, despite everything.
"Morning," I whispered back, turning carefully in his arms to face him.
His eyes were clearer today, the haunted look from yesterday fading slightly. He reached up and traced his fingers gently along my uninjured cheek, his touch feather-light and reverent.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
I considered the question, taking stock of myself physically and emotionally.
"Better," I said, realizing it was true. "Sore, but better. You?"
"The same." His thumb brushed across my bottom lip. "I kept waking up last night to make sure you were still here. Still breathing."
Oh, Jaxon.
"I'm here," I promised, covering his hand with mine. "We both are."
We lay there a while longer, just holding each other as the morning light grew stronger. No words were needed—just the comfort of shared space and mutual understanding.
Finally, Jaxon pressed a kiss to my forehead and climbed out of bed.
"Stay here. I'll bring you coffee."
"I can get up," I protested, even as my body refused the idea of movement.
"I know you can," he said with a small smile. "But you don't have to. Let me take care of you today."
I decided to let him. I needed to let someone take care of me for once.
So I did. I settled back against the pillows and watched him leave, then carefully got up to use the bathroom and brush my teeth. The mirror reflected the same battered face as yesterday, but somehow it didn't feel quite as devastating.
I focused on the fact that I survived. I was still here. That's what mattered.
When I made it downstairs twenty minutes later, showered and dressed in another pair of comfortable clothes that hid most of the damage, Jaxon had a tray set with coffee, toast, and scrambled eggs, ready to take upstairs.
"You didn't have to—"
"I wanted to," he interrupted gently, pulling out a chair for me. "Besides, you made dinner yesterday. My turn."
We ate breakfast in comfortable silence, the quiet clink of forks and the soft morning sounds of the ranch drifting through the open windows, creating a peaceful soundtrack.
"What do you want to do today?" Jaxon asked as we cleared the dishes together.
I thought about it. Yesterday had been about surviving, just making it through each hour. But today…
"Something normal," I said finally. "I want to do something that feels normal. Maybe check on the horses? Work in the tack room for a bit?"
Jaxon studied my face for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. But we take it slow. If you need to stop, we stop. Deal?"
"Deal."
We spent the morning at the barn, moving at a leisurely pace. Jaxon insisted on doing all the heavy lifting, so I focused on smaller tasks like organizing brushes, checking tack for repairs, and spending time with Choco, who nickered happily when I appeared.
Denny had taken care of everything yesterday, but it still felt good to be back in that space, surrounded by the familiar scents of hay, leather, and horse. It felt like reclaiming a piece of normalcy.
Around midday, Jaxon found me in Choco's stall, brushing his gleaming coat. He leaned against the stall door, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"What?" I asked, pausing mid-stroke.
"Nothing," he said softly. "Just… I love watching you with him. You look peaceful."
I paused, considering when the last time I'd felt truly peaceful had been.
But looking at Jaxon standing there, sunlight streaming through the barn windows and catching the blue in his eyes, I realized I did feel peaceful. Despite everything, despite the trauma still so fresh, there was a quiet in this moment I hadn't felt in a long time.
"Come here," I said, setting down the brush.
Jaxon entered the stall, and Choco immediately nuzzled his shoulder, searching for treats. I laughed as Jaxon produced an apple slice from his pocket.
"Traitor," I accused the horse fondly. "I spend all morning brushing you, and he shows up with one apple and you're all over him."
"What can I say?" Jaxon grinned, that crooked smile that made my heart flutter. "I'm irresistible."
"You certainly are," I murmured, stepping closer to him.
The playfulness in his eyes shifted to something warmer, deeper. His hand came up to cup the uninjured side of my face, and I leaned into his touch.
"Anna," he breathed, my name a question and a statement all at once.
I answered by rising on my toes and pressing my lips to his. The kiss was gentle at first, mindful of my injuries, but when I made a soft sound of encouragement, Jaxon deepened it.
When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathing a bit harder, Jaxon rested his forehead against mine.
Choco snorted, clearly annoyed that we were ignoring him, and we both laughed. A bright, genuine sound that echoed through the barn.
By late afternoon, we'd made our way back to the house. The physical activity had been good but exhausting, and I could feel fatigue tugging at my bones.
"How about I make dinner?" I offered as we entered the kitchen. "Nothing fancy, but I've been craving lasagna."
"You sure you're up for it?" Jaxon asked, concern flickering across his features.
"I'm sure. Besides, cooking is soothing. The routine of it, you know?"
He nodded, understanding. "Okay. But I'm helping."
We worked together in the kitchen, moving around each other with an ease that felt natural despite the newness of our relationship.
Jaxon chopped vegetables while I assembled the layers of pasta, sauce, and cheese.
We talked about nothing and everything, his plans for repairing the cabin, my ideas for expanding the tack room, whether we should tell Connor about us when he got home or let him figure it out on his own.
"He's going to know the second he sees us together," I said, spreading another layer of ricotta. "We're not exactly subtle."
"Do you want to call him? Give him a heads-up?" Jaxon asked.
I considered it, then shook my head. "No. He'll be home in a couple of days anyway. We can tell him then."
I preferred to tell him face-to-face. Like adults. Like people who aren't hiding anything.
As I slid the lasagna into the oven and set the timer, a sense of accomplishment washed over me. Such a simple thing, making dinner, but it felt monumental. A quiet reclaiming of domestic normalcy after the violence and trauma.
I closed the oven door and straightened, only to feel Jaxon's strong hands grip my hips from behind. The touch sent a shiver down my spine—not of fear, but of anticipation.
With a playful grin, he effortlessly lifted me onto the cool marble countertop. The sudden change in position drew a delighted laugh from my lips, the sound surprising me with its genuineness.
Instinctively, my hands found their way to Jaxon's broad shoulders, my fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt as he stepped between my parted legs.
His arms circled my waist, drawing me flush against his solid chest, and I melted into his embrace, savoring the warmth and security of his body against mine.
"Hi," he murmured, his eyes dancing with affection and something deeper, something more heated.
"Hi," I breathed back, my heart racing in the best possible way.
Our lips met in a tender kiss, a wordless affirmation of everything we'd endured, everything we'd survived, everything we were building together.
As the kiss deepened, my arms wound around Jaxon's neck, my fingers tangling in the silky strands at his nape.
The sensation sent pleasant tingles through me, warmth pooling low in my belly.
Lost in the intoxicating taste and feel of him, I barely registered his hands tightening on my hips, drawing me closer to the edge of the counter, closer to the heat of his body.
I needed him closer.
My legs wrapped around Jaxon's waist of their own accord, my ankles crossing behind his back.
The desire to eliminate the last bit of distance between us was overwhelming in its intensity.
I could feel every hard plane of muscle, the undeniable evidence of his desire, and it made me dizzy with want.
A soft moan escaped my throat as he gently nipped at my bottom lip, a delicious mix of pleasure and the faintest sting of pain that made me arch against him, craving more. His hands slid from my hips to my lower back, pressing me impossibly closer.
"Anna," he groaned against my mouth, the raw need in his voice sending electricity racing through my veins.
My fingers tightened in his hair, tugging slightly. He made a low sound in his throat that sent heat flooding through me. One of his hands came up to cradle the back of my head, angling my face for a deeper kiss that stole my breath and scattered my thoughts.
Yes. I needed this. I needed him.
I could feel his heart hammering against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. My hands roamed over his shoulders and down his back, mapping the muscles that flexed beneath my touch. When my fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt to find bare skin, Jaxon's breath hitched.
"God, Anna," he murmured against my lips. "You're—"
The sudden sound of someone clearing their throat, and the heavy thud of a bag hitting the floor, shattered the moment like glass.