Chapter Forty Four- A Time to Heal

Amara’s POV

Is it technically considered cabin fever if your walls of imprisonment consist of a six bedroom house on twelve acres? Because even if the sun came through the bay window of the reading nook I occupied more often than not or the food was prepared to the degree of award-winning, I was restless. The crutches were finally recycled last week and I was left with a heavy boot that made me limp from even the most basic of movements, and I was under intensive care of watchful eyes. None more precise than Jackson himself as he made it his mission to keep his focus on me throughout the day.

“Baby!” He scolded as I was already halfway down the steps before he rushed to my arm.

“I'm not glass…” I reminded but he didn't respond. We had already argued frequently about me being babied. He wouldn't even give me more than a peck on my cheek and that was with repetitive begging. In fact, this grip was the most intimate we had been for the last few months.

“Y