A gruff sound came from the corner of the room, and it was then that I noticed Jackson had been asleep in the armchair in the corner. He was still dressed in his suit, and he looked exhausted. Had he been there all night?
“What’s going on?” I asked. “And why are you in here?”
He pushed himself off the chair with unnerving wariness, as if I was some timid animal he was scared of frightening away. Then he moved slowly toward the bed and sat on the edge, looking at me like I might shatter or explode at any moment.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now.” Concern etched his handsome face as he gently reached forward to touch my hand. I didn’t move away. I let him touch me. “What do you remember, Ryley, about last night?”
What did I remember? Not an awful lot. I told him what I could recall and his face screwed up.
“What’s the matter? What did I do?”
I expected him to inform me that I’d made a spectacle of myself the night before, maybe causing a scene or raising hell. He didn’t though. He took a deep breath and asked me if I really wanted to know. What kind of question was that? Of course I wanted to know. Why wouldn’t I?
The words he spoke next were like an axe, tearing down my world; my comfortable, pure and well-intentioned yet gullible existence. He spoke with gentle, calm tones about the brutal evil that’d almost devoured me, ruined me. I started to scratch at my skin, feeling as though a billion ants were crawling all over me, biting and clawing to penetrate my soul.
I felt sore all over, but there wasn’t pain between my legs. I had to ask though.
“Did he rape me?” I started to cry as I said those words.
“No. He didn’t get the chance. I found you in time.” Jackson sighed wearily. “Have I done the right thing? Telling you all this?” He squeezed my hand as he spoke.
“I needed to know,” I answered, but I wished I didn’t. I wished I’d never met Mason fucking Lovall. Even thinking his name sent me into a panic, and I started gasping for air. “Where is he?”
Jackson’s face took on a mask of fury. “He’s gone. He won’t ever touch you again. You have my word.”
“Shouldn’t we call the police?” I said on instinct.
Jackson stiffened. “No.” Then he thawed slightly. “Well, if that’s what you want I’ll call them for you, but they won’t find anything. I’ve dealt with it. He’s gone.”
I shook my head and didn’t push any further. I wasn’t ready to know what ‘dealing with it’ meant to a man like Jackson, but I had a pretty good idea. Did I feel guilty about that? No, not in that precise moment, and I figured having the police sniffing around wouldn’t be very wise either.
“I need to use the bathroom.” I winced as I tried to stand up, and Jackson moved forward to grab me, then pulled away.
“I don’t want to scare you,” he said, obviously unsure about how to handle me after my ordeal. “I know you don’t trust me.”
A burning sensation gripped my heart at his admission. He was so far off the mark.
“Apart from my dad and my brothers, you’re the only man I trust in the whole world right now.”
I meant it too. Who else would have done what he did last night? What he was still doing for me this morning. I was pretty sure Justin wouldn’t have stepped up like that. I admired Jackson for being thoughtful of my predicament, and putting my feelings first.
His body became less tense, and his face took on a softer tone. I reached out to him for support, and he held my elbows, letting me lean on him. I noticed I was wrapped in some kind of sheet, so I pulled the edges tighter around me to give me some privacy.
“Thanks.” I smiled up at him, and then shuffled off to the bathroom.
I pushed the door closed and then let the sheet drop to the floor. However, I wasn’t fully prepared for what I saw in the mirror. Angry, ugly bruises covered my upper body, painting it in shades of yellow, black and purple. But it was the disgusting red bite marks on my breasts and stomach that made me cry out in pain.
The door burst open mere seconds after my cries, and Jackson ran inside looking ready to commit murder. I tried to cover myself with my arms, conscious I was standing stark naked in front of him. He pulled a bath towel from the wall and came to stand behind me in front of the mirror, wrapping my body in the warm, white fluffy cocoon.
“I’m so sorry.” He held the towel around me and hugged me close to him as he buried his head into my neck. Feeling his body so close to mine was like a shot of adrenaline, bringing my ailing body back to life. “I wish I’d found you earlier. I should’ve never let you walk away from me last night. I should’ve been there to protect you.”
I reached out from under the towel to touch his arm, offer him some type of comfort.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
He looked up at me in the mirror. “It wasn’t yours either.” I knew what he was trying to do, obliterate any guilt I might be harbouring from this whole sorry, sordid attack.
“Thank you,” I said, meeting his gaze again in the mirror ahead. “Thank you for saving me.”