The outside world didn’t seem to exist anymore. Sometimes I’d listen in on the nothing around me for hours on end. I’d close my eyes and remember the feel of wind against my face, but it was never enough.

I was detached. By everything. Memories no longer consoled me because I’d relived them over and over again. I had the option of talking to myself, but I wasn’t at that batshit level of craziness… yet. Not even Jaxon’s face brought a stir in my chest because I couldn’t remember his voice, or the curves of his face, or the feel of his hands on my body. I didn’t even dream of anything.

Loneliness is a sickness, and I was clutching onto the only living thing I had at the time: Remy.

Cold nights in bed had me comfortably easing into his side, seeking his warmth. He never backed away from me, but he never came closer either. It’s not that he was pushing me away. It was actually the complete opposite. This was him giving me the power. To do what? Well, I already knew. He wanted me, and he was waiting on me to make the move.

I never did.

Reality was confusing the ever living shit out of me. Attraction to another human being wasn’t supposed to happen this way. This dependency on his presence wasn’t healthy. My mind was telling me this much with clarity and it was comforting to know I still had logic when I sometimes doubted my sanity.

However, my heart and being were a different matter altogether. It was yearning for human contact, yearning to be cared and loved. Fighting my heart with my mind was exhausting, and it was the most difficult at nights when tucked into the warmth of a man that wanted me at my command.

One very desperate time I entertained the notion of going that extra step. It seemed easy – too easy, really. I could embrace that I was a Jackal. I’d be welcomed into the club at his side, and it would be the most uncomplicated relationship. When it came to Remy personally, there was nothing remotely unlikeable about him. He’d come out of his shell, engaged in conversations, listened to me talk with untiring interest. He chose to be here with me when he could have been anywhere else.

And there rested the problem. My confusion was distorting what little logic I was able to retain. He’d put me in here and I felt… gratitude when he came to be with me. I knew I shouldn’t. I knew it was wrong and that his excuse for keeping me here was weak at best. Only…I couldn’t help myself.

I hated my feelings. I hated how fast they were growing and how helpless I felt at it all. I couldn’t get away from him to stop them from festering, and I didn’t want to get away either. I didn’t want to be alone. I was so sick of being alone.

But at the same time, I didn’t trust myself. I wouldn’t do anything with him – this much I was certain of.

Jaxon. Jaxon. Jaxon. My mind could only repeat the name now in times of crisis, firing out of pure instinct. He was a prayer on my lips.

Jaxon. Jaxon. Jaxon.

*****

“Where do you see us ten years from now?” I asked him the first night at our apartment in Winthrop.

We were naked and exhausted after a day of christening the bed -- the bed that was our one and only furniture in the apartment. It never mattered to me one bit I was in an empty shell of an apartment with the only piece of furniture under me. I was just so damn happy to be with him.

“You beneath me and me inside of you,” he sleepily answered with a lazy kiss on my shoulder.

I nudged him with my elbow and tried to turn away from our spooning position, but he held me captive with his arm around my waist, not allowing me an inch to budge.

“I’m serious,” I said. “Where do you see us ten years from now?”

He inhaled sharply and stirred, rousing himself out of his sleepy state.

“Is this you wanting some cliché answer? Because it’s all I’m going to give you, Tiny.”

“I want your honesty.”

Quiet.

Then, “I see us married. I see you fat from having four of my kids. I’ll be bald from the stress of having four kids. We’ll be driving the most exciting family van you’ve ever seen in your life, towing the kids to and from school, dropping little Tiny at her ballet class and little Jax at boxing – because no son of mine is going to not learn how to fight.

“We’ll be in a good sized home. Each kid will have their own room. You and I will have a master bedroom with our very own ensuite because kids leave shit stains on toilets, and no toilet I sit on will have shit stains unless they’re my own. I’ll be working some shitty job, most likely. You’ll be doing what you love, hopefully. Either way, we’ll be home in time for dinner because if there’s one thing Mom stressed to me, it’s always having family time at least once a day.

“Then we’ll be putting the kids to bed relatively early, and they’ll most likely hate us for it and secretly stay up. At that point we’ll have retreated to our room where we’ll proceed to fuck like bunny rabbits. Put that on repeat, and I call that a damn good life ten years from now.”

Silence filled the room for one very long minute. I reflected on his words in quiet giddiness, tucking my mouth into the covers to hide my equally giddy smile.

“Happy with that?” he then asked, tracing circles along my stomach with his fingernails.

“Happy that you think I’ll be fat?”

He laughed loudly. “I’m glad out of all of that you focus on that very minor detail.”

“It’s not very minor at all. It’s a rather big detail, if you ask me.”

“You need some weight on you, babe. I’ll be enjoying the taste of your womanliness. I’ll be getting it the worst. If you haven’t already heard, I’ll be bald.”

I brought my hand to the back of my head where he was resting his face and tugged on his hair. “I’m not sure I could be with you if you’re bald.”

“The hair has gotta go at some point regardless. I can’t have it this long forever.”

“Now you’re breaking my heart. I never want you to cut it off.”

He kissed my hand as I stroked his cheek. “Don’t worry. It’ll stay long ‘til your heart’s content, Tiny.”

“Good.” I moved up and gave him a swift kiss on the lips. “I’m glad you see us having a family. I always thought…” I paused, unsure how to say what I was thinking.

“You always thought what?”