I could see the tension in Jackson's shoulders and the barely controlled fury in his movements. He stood in the doorway, his left arm hanging stiffly at his side, and his green eyes blazed as they locked onto Ben. The chatter in the room died instantly. Heads turned. Forks hovered midair.
I froze.
He stormed towards us like a hurricane, wearing linen and fury. "Bella, get up." Jackson's voice cut through the café chatter like a blade.
"We were just talking—" I began, but he cut me off.
"Please." The word came out rough, almost broken. When his eyes met mine, I saw something desperate beneath the anger—something that looked almost like fear. "Just... please."
The raw need in his voice undid me. I stood, offering Ben a small, apologetic smile. "I have to go."
Ben nodded, understandin
