Page 47 of Badd B*tch

“Got you to look at me, didn't I?" He grinned at me but sobered swiftly. "Just listen, if you can't bear eye contact."

"Trying."

"I was joking. Just joking."

"Jax—"

"About unzipping. It was a bad joke and I'm sorry. I'm not like that. I would never…" he paused, let out a breath, and scratched his temple with a thumbnail. "I think you're hot as fuck, Tea. I'm crazy attracted to you. But I don't expect anything, and sure as fuck not because of that damn bear."

"I know."

"Do you?"

I nodded. "I know you were joking. I do have a sense of humor. At least, I can recognize humor." I tried to grin, to make that joke, but I’m not sure how successful I was.

He leaned closer, trying again to get me to do that awful thing: eye contact. Instead, he sagged back with a ragged groan.

"Goddammit, Jax, you stubborn jackass. You need to sit back, or better yet, lie down." I set the knife aside and shuffled on my knees to his side, helping him scoot back against the wall. "You're badly injured, Jax. You need to take this seriously." Once he was settled in a recline against the wall, I spread a blanket over his legs. "Now just relax, okay? Please?"

He scrutinized me carefully for a long time. "Okay, Tea. I hear you."

I eyed him. "You said that weirdly."

"No?”

"There was a tone."

"I'm just saying, I hear you. I know it's serious, trust me. I feel it, and I’m not loving it." He grabbed a spare T-shirt from the nearby backpack and folded it up into a thick wad, scooting down with a lot of grunting and wheezing coughs of pain until he was lying down with the wadded-up shirt as a lumpy pillow. "I'm glad you're okay. When I heard you scream and then I heard that bear? Fuck. I thought I was gonna find you—" he cut off, shaking his head.

I touched his hand, left mine there. “I’m okay. You—" I swallowed hard. "You saved me, Jax. I—thank you."

No one has ever protected me before. Everyone just sort of assumes that I'm tough—which I am—and that me being tough means I don't need protecting. I don't know how to feel about it.

Or rather, I do know how I feel about it, but I know how I feel about how I feel.

Confused? Me too.

Jax flipped his hand and tangled our fingers. "I've got you, Tea."

That one shot straight to the core of me like a dart to a bullseye, made my eyes burn. Made my heart palpitate, and my palms sweat, and my stomach flip, and other parts of me do even weirder things they've done before, like pulse…and go, um, damp.

Panic.

"Shut up and show me how to clean this fish," I muttered, hating how weak and pathetic I felt for evading yet another chance to be real about how I felt about him.

I just…

I'm scared.

Terrified.

I'd almost rather be back on the roof of the world running from the Taliban again than dealing with this conjunction of my feelings and my fears.

When I dared a glance at Jax through my lowered eyelashes, he was gazing at me steadily, evenly. A small, knowing smirk was on his lips, almost as if he could see my internal struggle.

He can't, though, can he?

Chapter 9