“What do you want?”
I gestured to the food with my free hand. “Eat, or I shoot you in the knee, and you can stay in a hospital while I go rescue Haley. Then, when I bring my girl back, Haley can have the pleasure of teaching you how to walk again, and you can tell her you got shot for being an asshole.”
He growled at the sound of her name. “Don’t fucking—”
“Eat." I loaded the chamber. He glared at me, challenging me.
“You won’t win this battle, Agent. Eat. Now.”
I kept my gun pointed at him, watching his every move, every bite. I made him a turkey on rye, toasted with jalapenos. His favorite, according to Haley.
Everyone was on edge.
Haley was the last straw. Kay should have been the last straw, but nothing we'd been doing was good enough. I knew it was all my fault, and I was willing to accept that, but I couldn’t sit around and mope. My friends needed me, and I needed them. If they weren’t back home to me soon, I feared I would lose myself again, and I couldn’t do that to my son.
He needed his momma—he needed his whole fucking family.
“Where’s Aiden?” he asked, his mouth full. My heart smiled.
Three weeks ago, James Garner would have finished chewing before speaking. This James Garner no longer gave a fuck and I was right there with him.
“He is with the Jacksons.”
Mrs. Jackson was his schoolteacher, but she has known Aiden his whole life. Her husband was a barber in Soulard, just downthe street from Sullie’s Bar. They agreed to watch Aiden until we got our family back. We could trust them.
“You should just take him somewhere safe and stay there.”
Rage boiled in my blood. I stepped closer to him, pointing the gun in his face.
“Fuck you,” I spat. He glared at me as he stood slowly from his seat, his meal gone.
“Watch yourself, Davenport,” he warned.
“I will not sit on the sidelines like a good little housewife while men fight my battles,” I snapped.
“These aren’t your battles!” He boomed, throwing his arms out.
“All of this is my fucking fault, Garner, and I will be damned if I let someone else clean up the mess I made!”
His nostrils flared as his jaw jumped, covered with dark hair. His hair was a mess. His clothes were clean but wrinkled and untucked, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. He looked awful. “You look like shit,” I noted, looking him up and down.
The office door flew open, and Jer stepped through, his brown eyes clouded with thought. His steps faltered when he saw my gun pointed at James. He blinked slowly, taking in the scene before him. “G, what the fuck?”
“Exactly,” James hissed.
“Shut up,” I snapped.
“You know, if I really wanted to, I could have that gun out of your hands and unloaded before you could even blink,” he warned.
I looked back to him, taking a step closer. “I fucking dare you,” I seethed.
“Enough!” Jer barked, his deep voice echoing throughout space. Both of us froze, turning toward our friend. He shut the door behind him before walking up to me. He folded his arms over his chest, his t-shirt straining over his muscles.
His eyes got soft, just for a moment, and I saw the old Jer. God, I missed him—I missed the life I once had. That all of us once had. My chest ached.
“Put the gun down, G. Save your bullets for someone who deserves them.”
Heaving a heavy sigh, I put the gun up, but not before I shot James one more glare. He swiped up the empty brown bag and tossed it in the trash. The room was silent for a moment, the air thick and heavy with regret. All three of us had done things that led to where we are now. We'd all made mistakes.
