irrevocable

{Thirty}

Love of My Life // Harry Styles

Holly

"I'm fine," I say for the three millionth time. Jackson is hovering, staying as close as possible without actually climbing onto my lap.

"You need the EMT to check you out more thoroughly. In fact, I think we should go to the hospital."

"Jackson, stop. I'm not going to the hospital. I've been looked at. No broken bones. No blood other than the scrapes on my arms. I'm just going to bruise. No big deal."

"Actually, Ma'am, I do think a visit to the ER is warranted."

I glare at the guy in uniform standing opposite me. This EMT, his name tag reads John, is now my enemy.

"See." Jackson brushes the hair out of my face.

"With the contusion on your back, and the perpetrator's steel toed boots, you should have tests done to rule out internal bleeding."

"Internal Bleeding?" Jackson's voice ratchets up a few decibels.

I groan. Great. Just what he needs to hear. His overprotectiveness is going to choke me now.

"You don't need transport, but I think your boyfriend should drive you there tonight at the very latest." The EMT hands Jackson some paperwork then turns away and gets to work packing up his gear. I start to get up from the gurney I'm sitting on when Jackson holds me still.

"Not yet," he says. "You need to move slowly."

"Feel free to sit here while I finish up. It'll be a few minutes." He moves away from us, to escape or to give us privacy, I'm not sure.

"Ugh, I hate being coddled."

"I'm not coddling you. I'm caring for you. There is a difference."

I nod but say nothing. I'm used to being the one doing the caring. Instead of speaking, I survey the aftermath of my latest life drama. Usually the crap I deal with is internal. The gaslighting from my dad. The exhaustion from taking care of my mom all the time. It's the unseen stuff that I've struggled with most. Not so much right now. My dad was hauled off to jail, broken nose courtesy of Jackson, bandaged up. The creep he left me with, a man whose name I won't repeat, is strapped to a gurney next to a different ambulance on the opposite side of the dirt clearing. One hand is cuffed to the rail. He's conscious but silent. I have a feeling he knows the drill. This won't be his first trip to jail.

Grinder's cop friend, Frank, showed up not long after Jackson, patting my boyfriend on the back but saying nothing about the carnage he left in his wake. Once Jackson told me that my dad had been involved in trafficking, that he'd smuggled forged documents across the border to make smuggling innocent women and kids into the country...I wish I could say I was shocked. I wish I'd had a dad that was better at hiding his dark side. That seems ridiculous when I let myself think about it too long but it's the reaction I had. My dad wears his demons on his sleeve, instead of his heart. I know all too well what kind of man he is, and what he's capable of.

But it was the look on Jackson's face when he told me his mom was involved, too, that left me reeling. We won the shitty parent lottery, the two of us.

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of this train of thoughts. I look up to find Jackson watching me.

"What now?" My question comes out snarkier then it should, but I don't bother apologizing. I think I've earned a bad attitude for at least twenty-four hours.

"I'm just so damn grateful you're okay. That you hadn't gotten into that guy's car where I'd have had no way to figure out where you were."

I soften at his confession. I was busy with survival, but he was busy panicking about me. We both dealt with trauma today.