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Jackson has been so good to me. I'd trust him with my life, but that's not the issue. It's how he'll see me after, that I’m worried about. When my parents do find me, I'm sure they'll make up stories to get me to come back home. They always have a way of getting what they want. It's why I had to run. If they didn't know where I was, then they couldn't get in my ear. Guilt me into doing what they want.
"Talk to him." He knocks on top of the bar, then nods his head toward the other side of the room. I turn to see the very man we're talking about coming toward me. When our eyes meet, a smile tugs at his lips. The man can go from looking like a grumpy bear to being easygoing with one of the smiles that I'm noticing are reserved for me alone.
Without a thought, I rush over toward him. When I'm close enough, he reaches out and scoops me up. As he plants a kiss on my lips, my feet leave the floor. I melt into him, forgetting about everything else in this moment. Jackson has a way of doing that to me.
“How’s your night been so far?” He lets me slide down the front of his body until my feet touch the floor. His hand goes to my ass, keeping me flush against him.
“It’s been slow.”
"Cole, can I take my girl home?” Jackson asks across the bar for everyone to hear. It makes me smile, but still, I hide my face in his chest, feeling shy. Jackson doesn’t try to hide the fact that we’re a thing. I’m not sure what that thing is, but right now, I’m his.
“Yeah, we’re dead tonight,” Cole says.
Jackson gives my ass a squeeze. “Go get your stuff, princess.”
“All right,” I agree. Before releasing his hold on me, Jackson drops a kiss on the top of my head. I do one last check on the tables I was serving before I head to the back to get my things. When I come out, Cole and Jackson are talking.
Jackson wraps an arm around me, leading me out of the bar. I don’t miss the few glares I get from some of the local girls.
“You know you’ve got a fan club,” I tell him on our drive back home. His home, I mentally correct. Well, one of his homes. Jackson doesn’t actually live here full-time. This place is just for when he’s in town.
That is probably something I should be thinking about. I need to find somewhere more permanent. I don’t want to go back to the motel whenever Jackson decides he wants to head back to the city. He hasn’t told me how long he’s staying. June said he never stays more than a handful of days. It’s well past that now. I’m sure he’ll be heading out any day now. A sense of loss fills me at the thought of his departure.
"Fan club?"
"There are girls in this town that are in love with you."
He flicks a glance toward me. "I've never dated anyone from this town."
"It doesn't mean they aren't in love with you."
"Is someone giving you a problem, princess?" His tone is tight with irritation.
"No!" I rush to say. "A few dirty looks won't hurt me. They do tip like shit, though."
"You should quit."
"What?"
"You don't need to work there."
"I can't just quit."
"You can." Jackson pulls down his long driveway. I fold my arms over my chest, not wanting to fight with him. The second the truck stops, I get out. "Princess." I can hear the warning in Jackson's tone, but that doesn't stop me. I ignore him and head for the front door. I know he always wants to open the door for me. I suppose it's my small act of rebellion. "You wanna fight?" Jackson calls me right out on it. Okay, maybe I do.
"How can you just say that?" I throw my hands up.
"Because I think you're itching for a fight." He shrugs, strolling up toward the front door. He doesn't look pissed now. If anything, he's relaxed.
"Saying I should just quit! Then what?" I stomp my foot. "I have to feed myself and Tigger, get a place to live, and pay for my medications." My eyes start to fill with tears. "I don't even know what they cost, but I know it can't be cheap.”
"Princess." Jackson closes the space between us, pulling me into his arms. "Everything is going to be all right."
"No, it's not." I sniffle.
"You're killing me with the tears." He lifts me up, somehow managing to get the front door open while caring for me. When we get into the house, he sets me down on the kitchen island. "Hey." Jackson's hand comes to my chin, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. "I've got you."
To prove his point, he walks over to the refrigerator and opens it. He motions to the inside of the door, where there are boxes of insulin.
