Don't Cage The Birdie (Book 2)(rough first draft)

Chapter 20. The good and the bad

For the second time James found himself waking up in his bed with Jasmine next to him, lying on her stomach, arm extended over his bare chest. Staring up at the ceiling he wondered how he had managed to find someone who seemed to accept his lack of interest in the physical and was just happy with be with him without expecting anything from him. Well, at least, thought James, she wasn't expecting anything from him yet. He wondered how long that would last.

Gently removing her arm from his chest, James slid out of bed and dressed quietly. Jasmine murmured softly and rolled over, pulling the sheets up to her chin as James sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling his shoes on. The room was still relatively dark but soon the sun would be beaming straight in. He fetched breakfast for himself and made a tray for Jasmine and went back into the bedroom. He placed the tray on the chest of drawers on her side of the bed and shook her gently awake. She opened her eyes, blearily looking around the room as if trying to remember where she was.

'Morning already?' she asked.

'Good morning to you too,' said James, grabbing his gun from its safe, checking the safety was on before tucking it into his shoulder holster. 'I made breakfast.'

Jasmine looked to the tray of buttered jam toast and the cup of hot coffee. 'Well,' she said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes, the sheet dropping away showing her pale body. 'That's a pleasant surprise,' she said cheerfully as she picked up the cup and took a sip. 'Very nice, James.'

He grinned and stretched as she looked at him. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing the scars on his left arm. She stared at them silently for a second before placing down her cup and scooting across the bed and holding out her hand.

'Here,' she commanded, looking up at him.

'What?' said James, frowning.

'Your hand. Left hand,' she said, motioning with hers. He placed his left hand in hers and she sat on the bed, trailing a finger along the lines of the scaring. James let her soft finger move up his forearm to the elbow where his rolled shirt sleeve began. He could faintly feel the finger on his arm, but where most of the scaring was he couldn't really feel anything. There was nerve damage and it occasionally ached and twitched, sending occasional spasms through his arm. The senses were dulled.

'I've seen this before and I've wondered about it,' admitted Jasmine. 'What happened to you?' she asked softly, crossing her legs under her and staring up at James, her face concerned and grave.

'An accident with a machine used for removed branches from big logs. I got pulled in,' he told her, leaving out the detail of how he had pushed someone into it and they were the one that pulled his arm in.

'How?' she asked, as if reading his thought.

'I got pulled in,' he snapped, slipping his hand out of her grasp and rolling down his sleeve to cover the scars. 'I'd rather not relive it.'

'I understand, James,' she said, crawling back over to the other side of the bed and picking up her coffee cup again. She looked back over at him again, eyes peering over the top of the rim. 'Am I going to have to lock the apartment after you again?' she asked.

Chuckling, James sat down the bed, leaning against the headboard. 'We can leave together. I'm on call till Marjorie's grandparents fly in.' He watched her eat her breakfast, admiring the way the sun, now risen, shone in her hair and added sparkles of light to her face. She caught him watching and blushed.

'What?'

'You,' said James honestly. 'You're kinda stunning, did you know?'

She blushed again, choking on her coffee. 'Well, thank you. That's sweet.