12
ANTON
I walk in to find Jessa with her face buried in her hands.
She’s sobbing, tears spilling between her fingers, her body shaking. I move towards her, but she’s so lost in her own grief she doesn’t even notice me. When I reach out and touch her shoulder, she jerks away from me violently, her face twisting with dread.
When she sees that it’s me, though, something comes across her eyes. A look I can’t quite name, but it makes my chest throb with a not-quite-pain that feels strangely right, somehow. Her shoulders relax and she exhales with relief. No one has ever looked at me that way before her.
“Oh. It’s you.”
“Who did you think it was?”
She averts her eyes. “No one.”
“Marina,” I infer in a snarl that surprises even me with its venom.
“I’m fine,” Jessa says, swallowing her sobs. “Really.”
“Yeah, you look completely fine.”
She throws me a glare, but the effect is lost because I can still see the tears shining on her cheeks. I put my fingers under her chin and force her gaze to mine. She trembles nervously at first, her body wired with tension.
Tenderly, I wipe away the remaining tears on her face. She shivers every time my hand brushes against her skin.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Can I get you anything?”
“You hired a full-time staff to take care of my every need, Anton,” she points out with a choked laugh. “They’ve been hovering over me all day. It’s making me claustrophobic.”
“Even with this view?”
“I’m not used to being waited on hand and foot. It’s weird.”
“It’s just a matter of getting used to it.”
She frowns. “What if I don’t want to get used to it? I like taking care of myself.”
“And you can—when you’re back on your feet.”
That familiar fire glows in her eyes. “I am back on my feet! Or at least I could be. Except that you’ve instructed the staff, including the doctors, that I’m not to be allowed off the damn bed.”
“I won’t bother to apologize. Especially for something I don’t feel the least bit sorry for. It’s important that you recover properly.”
She sighs. “I’m going crazy in this room all day. Cabin fever, like, bad. I want to get out and do something.”
“And we will,” I promise her. “Once you’ve fully recovered.”
She looks impatient, of course, but there’s something else to her expression, too. She looks touched. As if she’s not expecting care. As if she doesn’t know what the meaning of the word even is. As if no one in her entire life has shown her kindness when she needed it.
Or perhaps most of all, as if she never thought it could come from a man like me.
To be honest, I share the same sentiment. I didn’t know I was capable. Seems we’re both learning a lot about ourselves.
I reach out to push back the strand of hair that has fallen across her face. I let it linger so the backs of my fingers can brush against her cheek, soft like satin.
Jessa sighs and turns her face into my hand. She closes her eyes and I let myself stare at her. I wonder if she even realizes how strange and shocking this moment is.