“I’m okay,” he lied, moving his hands on her.
“This happen a lot?”
Shit, shit, shit.
“Sometimes,” he admitted.
She was silent, waiting for him to say more.
When he didn’t, she said, “I’m giving you this, baby, butrepeating the caveat you’re eventually gonna have to open up for me.”
“I need to get a lock on it myself first.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
Shit, shit, shit.
“Just…a little more time, okay?”he requested.
She kissed his throat, slid off a bit, settling into hisside, head on his shoulder.
“Okay,” she granted.
He rolled into her and gathered her closer.
She snuggled.
Jagger focused on trying to ease the tension in his neckwithout moving and disturbing Archie.
It didn’t work until Archie relaxed into him in sleep.
Then he lost focus because he fell back to sleep too.
Late the next afternoon, while Archie was at work,Jag sat on his couch, ass to the edge of the seat, slumped forward, elbows toknees, but head tipped back and his eyes on his TV.
He had his remote in hand and was fast forwarding.
He knew the exact spot and started the playback at thatspot.
But once he got precisely where he needed to be, he stopped.
He was playingBlood, Guts and Brotherhood.
And on his screen was a pic of his dad and his mom.
They were outside the Chaos Compound, walking to hisfather’s bike.
Jag’s bike.
All he could see of his ma was her back.Her long, straight,shining black hair.She was wearing a tight redcami.Tighter faded jeans.
They had their arms around each other.
She was facing forward.
His dad was looking over his shoulder at the camera.
Smiling.
