Free Society Rules by Katherine Whitley

wanted to hold her . . . kiss her.
    Comfort her. However, this was obviously not possible.
    Not yet.
    Jackson sighed, and rubbed his eyes again with both hands. He ached all over. Having been this long without her, how could the longing have reached this unbearable fever pitch? He felt like doing something as pointless and lame as curling up into a ball, here at the base of the stairs.
    Jackson knew that he was about to throw Indie’s carefully constructed life into chaos, and a large part of him shrank away, horrified at the very idea; but a larger part knew that he had to do what he had to do.
    It was simple, really.
    He had to at least give her the option to have the life for which she was born. If she chose to reject it . . . well . . . he would figure out how to endure that possibility if it arose. He desperately hoped he wasn’t going to find out.
    Looking around uneasily, Jackson slowly clambered to his feet. His usual strength and ease of motion seemed to have evaporated, leaving him feeling heavy and clumsy. It was an odd sensation for him, as was the faintly nauseous feeling rolling through his belly.
    I feel like a reject . . . like I’ve been dumped! He thought with bitter amusement.
    I can’t hurt her, he sobered, whatever this costs me; I don’t want to do that . . . oh, but by all that is holy . . . he countered himself, I also know that I won’t be able to leave her alone, not until she makes the choice.
    He slid his fingers in to the pockets of his jeans and stared at the bits of grass and debris lying on the indoor-outdoor carpeting on the landing.
    “Are you okay, sir?” The voice made him jump. Allowing someone to sneak up on him like that was further evidence that he was not in his usual form. No one was ever able to take Jackson by surprise, as a rule. He looked around, a bit wildly, to find the source of the question.
    A pretty blond girl in brightly colored scrubs, with pictures of Tinkerbelle decorating the top, stood on the stairs above him, eyeing him with concern. She also wore an obvious appreciation for the disoriented, but incredibly handsome man in front of her. As Jackson looked up, piercing her with his brilliant blue eyes, she moistened her lips, her own eyes heavy with invitation.
    “Oh . . . uh, yeah . . . I am fine. Yes, very well, thanks . . .” he stammered. Okay, where did he leave his head, he wondered. He was always so calm and controlled. Now he was babbling like a complete fool.
    This would not do. He had to regain a little of his manhood before he had to swing by Wal-Mart and buy himself a tutu and a Glamour mag. He took a deep breath and tried again.
    “Thank you for your concern.” He smiled at the girl. “I just needed a moment to collect myself, and this seemed as good a place as any. Just sulking in the stairwell!”
    The girl flushed, and returned his smile, her eyes bright.
    “Anything I can help with?” she asked hopefully, subtly thrusting her breasts forward and assuming what Jackson understood was supposed to be a provocative pose against the wall.
    He tried to hide the laugh that wanted to ripple its way out of his throat at her thoughts.
    A genuine laugh.
    He never quite got used to the effect he had on people; women especially, although he’d never had but one woman on his mind, who he wished to find him irresistible.
    “You’re very kind, but I am okay, really. I’ll be on my way.” With a quick wave of his hand, he turned to push his way through the door. He heard her call out as he left, trying to stop him, and it wasn’t just so they could have pleasant conversation, he thought wryly. He didn’t like to seem rude, but he knew he wasn’t interested in wasting time with this female.
    He had no thoughts for any woman other than Indie, and never had. Even when he hadn’t known exactly who she was, he knew she was out there, his soul mate, and he had no time for anything less.
    Although he was always unfailingly