“You would,” she said quietly.
“Maybe day to day, but an important part of me would bejacked until the day I died.”
“I get that, Jagger, obviously I do.”
He pulled her closer.“I know you do, and I don’t know whatit’s like for girls, daughters.I’m absolutely not downplaying what you dealwith every day.I just know there’s a time when a son stops being a son and hestarts being a protector.And it holds no logic, we don’t control every part ofour worlds, there are things we cannot change.Still, if something hurt her, mymom, it would be there.There would be a feeling of responsibility.Of failure.Regardless of how ridiculous it is to feel that way, unless something happensto my ma twenty, thirty years down the line, and it’s about life cycles andage, I’ll feel it’s somehow on me.”
He could see her working on that behind her eyes.
“Never met your brother,” he pointed out.“That’s just whereI’d be.”
She nodded.
And he pulled her even closer.
“Loved seeing these pictures, baby,” he murmured.“Wonderedwhat she looked like, figured she was gorgeous.I was right.”
She smiled and her next words were cautious.
“Do you have pictures of your dad?”
He let her go and sat back.
Her eyes flickered with disappointment.
Even so, Jag didn’t get into that.
He just said, “Somewhere.”
“Okay,” she murmured.“You want dessert?”
“You have dessert?”
“I have French vanilla ice cream and I have chunky peanutbutter.”
That sounded promising.
“Like, you mix them together?”he asked.
“No, you plop a wad of peanut butter on a huge bowl of icecream and eat it.”
Correct.
Promising.
“You dish up, I’ll clean up,” he ordered.
That got him another smile and, “Deal.”
Deep in the night, in Archie’s bed, Jag jerked awake,and when he did, he was breathing funny.
Archie roused at his side.
“Hey,” she called softly.
“Sorry,” he muttered.“Just…weird dream.”
She said nothing but pushed up, draped herself mostly on himand stuffed her face in his throat.
