His Bounty

chapter ten: under the stars

I kept my eyes on the fire, watching the embers rise and fall as the night deepened. Jake sat a few feet away, his presence comforting yet unnerving in its own way. I wasn't used to having anyone around, especially not someone like him—someone who seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve.

The quiet stretched between us, the only sounds coming from the bubbling of the springs and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

"Funny thing about nights like this," Jake's voice cut through the silence. "They make you forget the rest of the world for a while."

"Not much to forget," I muttered, though my words lacked the bite I usually carried.

Jake leaned back on his elbows, gazing up at the sky. "That so?" He smiled faintly. "Seems to me like you've got a lot on your mind."

I hesitated, the truth teetering on the edge of my tongue. Part of me wanted to brush him off, to remind him that I was fine on my own, that I didn't need anyone's help. But another part—a deeper part—was tired.

"Maybe," I finally admitted, my voice softer than I intended. "But that doesn't mean I need saving."

"I ain't here to save you. I'm just here to keep you company, if you'll let me."

I glanced over at him again, seeing the sincerity in his gaze. There was no agenda behind his words, no hidden motives. For a moment, I allowed myself to lean into that. "It's been a while since I've had company," I admitted, surprising even myself with the vulnerability in my voice. "I'm not used to it."

He didn't push me further. Instead, he shifted closer, just enough to bridge the space between us without invading it. "Well, I figure we all need a little company sometimes. Even you."

I couldn't help but smile, the edges of my defenses softening just a little more. The fire between us seemed to warm more than just the air; it started to melt the ice I had built around my heart.

Jake reached out, his hand brushing against mine. But I didn't pull away. Instead, I let my fingers linger there, feeling the warmth of his skin, the quiet strength in his touch. It wasn't the rough grip I'd known from Arthur—it was something different, something that offered comfort rather than control.

I turned to look at him. "Why are you doing this?"

Jake's eyes met mine. "Because," he said softly, "sometimes, people need someone to care about 'em, even when they don't want it."

His words settled in the air between us, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn't have a retort. I didn't have the energy to push him away. Maybe he was right. Maybe I did need someone to care—if only for a little while.

The fire crackled again, filling the silence that stretched between us, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that let me breathe.

As the night grew colder, I felt myself growing drowsy. Jake seemed to notice, and he shifted closer still, his body heat radiating toward me. "You should get some sleep, pretty lady" he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

I nodded, too tired to argue. But instead of retreating to my own space, I found myself leaning into him, resting my head against his shoulder. He didn't flinch or pull away—he just stayed there, steady and warm.

"I'll keep watch," Jake whispered.

I closed my eyes without fear. His presence beside me, his calm assurance—it was enough to let me lower my guard, just for a few hours. The weight of the world seemed to lift, if only for a moment.

As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn't help but think about Arthur—the way he always seemed to be lurking in the shadows, a constant reminder. But here, with Jake, it felt different. Softer. Safer.