Jackson
My hands come up to steady her without really thinking, gripping the tops of her shoulders so she doesn’t bounce backward and hurt herself.
But the moment my palms make contact with her arms, I’m shocked by how slender she is, how delicate her bones feel beneath my hands.
I could hurt her.
I could touch her wrong, hold her too tightly.
I could hurt her.
Like I hurt the asshole on the other team tonight.
Like I—
The memory slices up through me so quickly that I can’t block it, can’t shove it down like I would normally do. It wraps a hand around my insides, grips tightly, and I drop my hands, jerking back a step.
A sliver of hurt crosses her face.
Shit.
I open my mouth to apologize but then my eyes catch on my knuckles, scraped and bruised and—
Shit.
I skitter back another pace.
“Jackson?” she asks quietly, her voice stroking along my insides, making me want all the things I can’t ever allow myself to have.
“Just go,” I say gruffly.
“I—” More hurt on her beautiful face before she stifles it, lifts her chin, and says tersely, “Right.”
But instead of seeing her turn for the exit of the arena, the one that will dump her out into the employee parking lot, she just spins on her heel and starts down the hallway that leads to her office.
It’s after eleven and I know she’s been here all day.
Just like I know she works too fucking much and too fucking hard and Luc has made it clear she needs to stop that shit.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl, starting after her.
She scowls at me, shakes her head, then keeps walking away from me.
And instead of letting her go—which I fucking know is the right thing to do—I go after her, snagging her arm, drawing her to a stop. “I know Luc’s talked to you about working too much,” I mutter.
“What I do with my life is none of your business,” she snaps, jerking free of my hold.
That’s loose.
Because I could hurt her.
Exhaling, I shove that down, way the fuck down, and focus on controlling my temper.
“Killing yourself for the team isn’t what we do here.” It’s all about work-life balance, coming together, looking after one another, focusing on the fact that a rising tide lifting all boats. Fucking weird and kumbaya from the outside, but something that makes perfect sense when you’re in the fold.
“And what I do with my personal time isn’t your business.”
“Luc might have something to say about that,” I mutter.
Her eyes flare with frustration, but there’s a thread of guilt there.
She knows I’m right.
And that needles at me, at the truth she discovered, the reason we’ve entered into this adversarial relationship in the first place.
“You know I’m right,” I press.
She grinds her teeth together and tosses her head, sending the sleek blond strands of her hair sailing through the air like a golden cape. “I know that I don’t owe you an explanation of my life.”
“You’re avoiding the truth.”
“No,” she snaps. “Because the truth is that. My. Life. Is. None. Of. Your. Business.”
“This team is my business,” I grit out, temper flaring. Why won’t she just admit that she’s wrong? “Which means you are too.”
“Oh,” she says archly, “so you’re changing your story now?”
I frown. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You made it very clear that you see me as nothing more than a lowly intern, a pathetic assistant, a woman who’s qualified to make your sandwiches and nothing more.”
I blink. Once. Then again. “What the fuck?”
But she doesn’t hear me because she’s already striding down the hall, turning the corner, and disappearing from sight.
Maybe I shouldn’t go after her, but…
Fuck it.
How do I listen to her spout that bullshit and just…watch her walk away?
I catch up with her as she pushes into her office.
“What the fuck?” I ask again.
She makes an adorable fucking squeaking sound I’ve never heard before, and clamps her hand to her chest, and I want to scare her all over again, just to hear it a second time.
To have that small part of her.
The glimpse of Claire the rest of the world doesn’t readily see.
But it’s already gone as she snatches her laptop out of the cradle on her desk, starts unplugging cords, and snarks, “Did I stutter?”
My temper flares again and I grind my teeth together, keeping it in check.
Just barely.
“Fucking sandwiches?” I growl.
Her gaze flicks to mine and then away as she shoves her laptop into the huge purse she always lugs around. It’s practically half her size and looks like it weighs a hundred pounds.
It probably fucking does, considering that she keeps the keys to the kingdom in there.
Snacks and spreadsheets, her ever-present notebook and pen to take notes. And the fucking laptop she’s cramming in there.
Working.
Always fucking working.
She doesn’t acknowledge me further, though, just grabs the handles of her purse and slings it onto her shoulder—
Or tries to.
Because I snag it from her before she can, and—Christ—the fucking bag does weigh a ton. “What do you have in here?” I mutter. “Bricks?”
“No,” she grumbles, reaching for it, “I have sandwiches.”
A curl of amusement slides through my stomach, but my annoyance definitely outweighs any humor of this situation. “I don’t think of you as someone who just makes sandwiches.”
She snorts and grabs her coat, wrenching it off the back of her chair. “Right.” She lifts her hand. “Give me my bag please.”
“Claire—”
She stills, eyes closing for a second, then exhales opening them and holding my stare. “I can’t do this tonight.”
“You started it.”
“You don’t like me,” she says quietly. “You’ve made that clear.”
I like her, have liked her far too much from the first moment I saw her. She just…
Knows too much.
“It’s not like that.”
Her brows flick up, but instead of snapping at me, she rubs her forehead, as though there’s a throb beneath the surface. “Then what’s it like, Jackson? Because you spend pretty much every moment we’re together”—she waves a hand in my direction—“looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Scowling,” she snaps. “Looking down your nose at me like I’m dog poop on the bottom of your shoe.”
“Okay, that’s fucking ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” She laughs, but it’s not filled with humor. “Right. Dumb little blond girl who knows nothing. Keep up the gaslighting, Jackson, but do it by yourself.” She starts for the hall.
I let her go for a second.
Then I go after her, shutting her office door behind me, trailing her through the hallways, knowing that she’ll realize I’m following sooner or later.
She pushes out into the parking lot, not fazed by the cold winter air slamming into me, sinking into my bones like I’ve been dunked into icy water. I have to force my feet to keep moving, to trail her across the enclosed space, and I reach her just as she’s stopped next to her car.
Which is why I see her shoulders slump in resignation when I get near, see the temper leave her as she spins around to face me.
“My bag,” she says, holding out a hand.
“You’re a lot more than sandwiches and snacks, Claire.”
“Right,” she mutters, not quite looking at me.
Giving in to the urge that eats at my insides, I gently cup her jaw, tilt her head up so her gaze meets mine. “You’re smart and a valuable asset to the team.”
“But”—her throat works—“you don’t like me.”
I reach for the driver’s side door, tug the handle, hearing the locks disengage. Then pull it again, opening the metal panel before bending and settling the bag in the passenger’s seat. “In the car, Claire,” I order softly as I straighten and step back.
“Jackson,” she presses, not moving.
I exhale, knowing that I can’t have her looking at me like that, can’t have her thinking what’s she’s thinking. “It’s not that I don’t like you.” I suck in a breath, release it. “I just…don’t like what you did.”
Guilt on her face again, and I feel like an asshole all over again.
I don’t like what she found.
Don’t like what it says about me.
Don’t like that it can ruin me.
But I did it, not her.
And I’m a jerk for—
“But you’re a good person,” I blurt, sending her gaze that had slipped away jerking back to mine.
So much better than me.
“And the guys and I are lucky to have you.”
Her mouth falls open.
I nudge her into the car before she can say anything else, before I can process the expression on her face softening, before I can let it affect me.
Keep her pissed.
Keep her distant.
Keep her safe.
And…keep the demons locked up.