Come to Me Quietly(140)



A dense silence blanketed the room.

“Aly, tell me what you’re thinking,” I finally begged. The words sounded like gravel as they scraped up my throat. “If you want me to go, just say it, and I’ll walk out that door, and I promise you, this time you’ll never see me again.” Maybe I was too late. Maybe she had moved on. God, I couldn’t f*cking bear the thought, the thought of someone else touching her, the idea of someone else loving my girl. That same old insanity rose in me. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to temper it, to block it out, because I had no right to claim her. But damn if I didn’t want to.

I felt her moving toward me, and my lids fluttered open, my face pinched as I lifted my gaze to take her in. Warily she approached with her head hung low, her movements all slow and unsure.

“You think I don’t want you here?” Hurt overwhelmed her expression. “Did you not believe what I told you, Jared? Or did you think what happened between us was just a game to me? I meant every single word. I gave myself to you.” She beat her fist out in front of her, each strike pounding the air with emphasis, before she drew it up to the valley between her breasts, just over her heart. “I haven’t been able to sleep in three months… three months… because all I could do was worry about you.”



Her bottom lip trembled, and she sucked it between her teeth. “Look at you. God, Jared, you break my heart. What happened to you?” She reached out and ran the back of her hand along the fading bruises on my cheek and fluttered her fingertips over the puckered skin extending out right above my left ear. My hair had grown long enough to barely cover the rest of the scar that snaked around to the back of my head.

I’d been lucky. That’s what they said. How many times had I heard it before? This time when I woke up in the ICU, the doctor had granted me no pleasantries. Point-blank, he’d told me, “You should be dead.” And he’d looked at me like maybe he thought I deserved to be.

“I happened.” I sat up straighter, lifting my chin so I could meet her eye, because I had no defense. “It’s always me. I’m a f*cking mess, Aly, but without you, I’m a disaster. I… ” I winced, cutting my attention to the shadows on her floor, before I gathered enough courage to look back up at her. “You make me better. I don’t even know what I’m doing here, but those three months I spent with you were the best of my life. You made me feel things I’ve never felt before.”



Made me feel things I never thought I could feel, things I thought I wasn’t allowed to feel, things that hinted at joy and swam thick with affection. And I was feeling them now, all these emotions swarming me, a tug-of-war of confusion and need.

Aly’s exhale was palpable as it rushed across my face, her movements tentative as she inched forward, her legs knocking into my knees. Maybe there was something reminiscent of the first night when she’d pushed us over the edge, that intense desperation that had been present when she asked me to stay. But tonight, nothing in her intentions seemed seductive like they’d been then. If anything, she looked scared.

Fuck. I couldn’t get my leg to stop bouncing as she slowly crawled onto my lap, straddling me, her warmth covering me whole.

It took about all I had not to crush her to me.

Fingertips gentled along my jaw, and she inclined her head to the side. “You can’t understand how much I missed you,” she whispered through the torment that wouldn’t seem to let her go.

But she was wrong. It might be the only thing I could understand.

Shaking, I took her face in my hands, the tips of my fingers weaving in her hair. She reached up to cover them with hers.

A. L. Jackson's Books