Only when we burn

Chapter 9: Never let go

Jackson's POV

I woke to the absence of her warmth. My hand reached across the bed instinctively, finding only cold sheets. The emptiness jolted me fully awake, and I sat up, running a hand through my hair as I tried to shake off the fog of sleep.

The cottage was quiet, not the peaceful quiet of early morning. This silence felt heavy, charged with something I couldn't name. I pulled on my discarded shorts and padded barefoot through the darkened hallway, following an instinct that told me something was wrong.

Bella sat curled on the couch, knees hugged to her chest, her face buried against them. Her hair spilled forward in a curtain, but I could see the tremor in her shoulders, hear the uneven breaths she tried to smother. The sight of her, so small, so folded in on herself, punched the air from my lungs.

For a moment, I stayed in the doorway, leaning against the frame, fighting the urge to rush in and fix it. She needed this. Needed to let the feelings burn through her without me trying to put words in her mouth. So I stood watch, silent and helpless, every muffled sob like a blow to the ribs.

When her crying finally eased, I crossed the room and sank down beside her. She startled, just faintly, but when I opened my arms, she came without hesitation, sliding against me like she’d been waiting all along. I tucked her close, her head beneath my chin, my lips brushing her hair.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered. My voice sounded raw, scraped thin.

She didn’t answer, but her body softened, tension bleeding out as she pressed closer. The air was thick with the remnants of tears and the faint lavender of her shampoo. I held her tighter, like I could anchor her against whatever storm was still clawing at the edges.

Minutes passed. Maybe longer. Neither of us moved. The earlier chaos—the shouting, the accusations, the truths flung like knives—had burnt itself out, leaving only this fragile quiet.

Finally, her voice emerged, hoarse and small. “Don’t let go.”

“Never.”

That was all. No explanations. No jealous confessions. Just a quiet promise exchanged in the dark.

I pressed another kiss to her hair and let the silence stretch, not heavy this time, but steady. A truce. A tether.

When she finally drifted, her breathing even and warm against my chest, I gathered her up in my arms and carried her back to bed. She didn’t stir, just curled tighter against me when I laid her down, like her body already knew the answer to her question. I stayed awake long after, watching the moonlight crawl across the ceiling, holding her like she might disappear if I loosened my grip.

The morning came too soon. I woke to sunlight streaming through the blinds and the muffled sound of voices outside. Bella was still asleep, her cheek pressed against my chest, her fingers twisted in the fabric of my shirt like she didn’t trust me to be there when she woke.

Carefully, I eased her hand free and slipped out of bed. Outside, laughter floated on the crisp air. Through the window, I saw Aarti and Nate walking along the vineyard path. Aarti was carrying her shoes in one hand, her hair loose and tangled by the breeze. Nate said something that made her laugh, an unguarded sound that carried all the way to the cottage porch. He looked at her like she was the only thing worth looking at.

A smile tugged at my mouth despite everything. Maybe Bella wasn’t the only one navigating unsteady ground.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Aarti: Checking in. B bailed when things got messy last night. How is she?

I glanced back at Bella, still curled beneath the sheets, her face softer in sleep than I’d seen in weeks. For the first time in a long time, I felt the tightness in my chest ease.

She’s okay, I typed back. We’re okay.

I slid back into bed and pulled Bella gently into my arms. She stirred, sighing in her sleep, and settled against me like she’d never left.

And for the first time since Rosie had reappeared, I let myself believe it.

We were okay. Maybe not perfect. But enough.