Burn Into Me (Into Me Series Book Two)

Chapter Thirty Four - Dear Diary

I run my fingers through his hair as his breath falls even and equal. He's lying on top of me, head on my boobs like they're pillows, arms wrapped around my torso, body shoved between my legs. We fell asleep spooning so I'm not quite sure how we ended up here, but he looks so damn peaceful that I don't dare try to move.

I can't help but admire the beautiful man pressed against me. His full and lush eyelashes are dark against his skin. His lips just barely parted where his breath escapes. His slight stubble that scratches against my bare skin. His strong and practically chiseled jawline not clenched for once. He is totally relaxed. I can feel the butterflies in my stomach as I move to running my fingers up and down his back as delicately as I can. I trace the sunbeams that Icarus falls from, knowing their placement by memory.

I love him so fucking much that it almost hurts.

My fingertips follow his jawline lightly, my heart fluttering in my chest when a small smile pulls across his lips. He tightens his arms around me as he adjusts, nuzzling his head into me and sighing. I want to stay in that moment forever; the moment between my fingertips brushing against his skin and the smile appearing. I know it doesn't seem that significant, but it's soft and simple and to me? It means everything. In that moment, I feel truly beautiful. Not because I am, but because even in his sleep, my touch can cause a smile. My love could comfort him. My presence makes him feel safe and protected. And that is more than I could ever ask for. That is more than enough for me.

I glance to my right, where the sun rises over the beautiful Chicago skyline. I didn't sleep much last night; between the sex and the post-concert high and the beauty of the city and the racing thoughts inside my head. But that's okay. Sometimes I just like to watch him sleep. It calms me. It makes me feel whole again.

Jackson suddenly pulls in a sharp breath, scrambling as he frantically looks around the room, effectively scaring the absolute shit out of me. "Jet? Jet?" he screams, voice laced thick with absolute terror, his breath rapid, his eyes open but not at all focused.

He's still asleep. This has been happening a lot more recently. The nightmares. They usually only haunt him like this when he's incredibly stressed. The first two weeks after the miscarriage, it seemed like Jackson and I would alternate nights waking up screaming. Some nights we both would wake up screaming, clinging to each other because nothing else made sense except for each other.

Work has been taking a major toll on him lately. The director has been up his ass about the fact that the teams still haven't figured out their growing pains. I'm not exactly sure why the director thinks Jackson should also be responsible for the actions of Connor's team, but hey, what do I know? I'm just a nurse. Oh, and then there's also the whole last five cases that have been absolute failures ending in injuries for the teams and tiny corpses. Each one kills Jackson just a little further and I can tell he's on the edge of completely breaking. I want so badly to reach into his brain and take the pain away from him, putting it on myself if it means that he doesn't have to feel it.

Oh, and then the conversation we had in the car yesterday. A double agent on the team. It makes sense and I have my suspicions. I know who I've never liked since the beginning. I know who has always just felt off to me. My empath-ass brain is always the barometer for the true nature of people, and I haven't liked that mother fucker for a second. But I can also be too quick to judge and this situation is complicated enough without me throwing my input in when I don't truly know for certain if my hunch is correct.

"I'm right here, Jackson, it's okay," I tell him, running my fingers through his hair again. "It's me, Eros, I'm right here."
His eyes fall on me and come into focus, confusion painted across his features. "J-jet?" he stumbles, his eyes searching my face.
"I'm right here, we're okay. We're safe," I explain. "You and I are both safe. We're in Chicago. We went to a concert last night. It's 8 in the morning. Everything is okay."
"O-okay..." he stutters, eyes locked on mine. "It was just a dream?"
"Yes, my love. It was just a dream," I nod, running my fingers through his hair.