Page 103 of Shrapnel

“The bomb was for me,” he finally said.

Elijah was silent. “The pictures, the murders, they’re all about Noah.”

“Not all of it,” Jamie splayed his hand on the grass, letting the stalks tickle his palms. “Or maybe none of it. I don’t know.”

He didn’t know. But he would. Jamie had made the mistake of turning his back on his past, hiding behind walls to protect his fragile heart.

Even the boy spat from the flames isn’t safe from demons in the shadows

This demon had grown in the shadow of his walls. It had come for him, and this time Jamie wouldn’t hide. He would step into the fire to burn with this demon. Let it destroy everything. Including himself.

Elijah grabbed his wrists. “Stop that,” his voice was shaky. Jamie had never heard him sound like that before. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I don’t have to. You’re not doing this alone.”

Jamie shook his head, but Elijah didn’t want to see it.

“Wherever you go, I’ll be at your back.” He gripped Jamie’s forearm, dragging it close to him. Fingers digging into his skin. “I’m your shadow, Jamie. You can’t always see me, but I’m there. You need me to go to battle? I’m ready. You want me to walk into hell? Lead the fucking way.”

Jamie took a shuddering breath, looking up into Elijah’s eyes. Into the eyes of the person he trusted most in this world.

“I’m not afraid of what’s behind your smiles. I’m withyou.”

Jamie swallowed back more of that feeling he didn’t understand. He opened his mouth to say no, to push Elijah away and tell him to go back to Noah.

But he couldn’t. He turned his wrist and clasped Elijah’s forearm.

“I can’t believe you just cussed.”

Owen flexed his fingers against the bright orange plaster. The neon colored cast went from just below his elbow to the edge of his knuckles. A small bit went between his pointer finger and thumb. The doctor had put padding on it, but he wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t rub him. His arm didn’t hurt anymore. The moment the EMT stabilized it he felt better. Now with the thick cast on it didn’t hurt at all.

He twisted his hand back and forth. Under the harsh glare of the hospital lighting the orange almost looked reflective. The doctor joked that it matched his hair.

Owen tried to piece together what happened. His memory was a little fuzzy, courtesy of his head injury the doctor said. He remembered talking to Jamie on the phone. There was a warm flush when Jamie insisted on him locking the door. A fluttering in his stomach he didn’t quite understand but always seemed to come around whenever Jamie did.

One moment he was smiling at the phone and the next he was body slamming his front door. His right arm folded under him, cleanly breaking at the wrist. Dazed, he stared at the ceiling for a while before managing to get to his feet. The first thing he noticed was the smoke in his apartment, thick grey swirling stuff that tickled his throat. The next was the fire alarm screaming. He stumbled out into the hallway. Someone caught him and helped him down the stairs. After that it was just blaring lights and an EMT shining light in his eyes.

Just as he started to feel better, Jamie was there.

More chaotic than the burning building, he showed up like a firestorm. Officers were knocked aside. One even leveled a taser at his back, but Jamie didn’t stop. He was trying to get into the burning building.

Owen knew he should be shocked. Maybe even angry or scared. But he couldn’t help the smile lingering on his lips. Jamie came for him. And the look on his face when he saw Owen made all those little fluttering’s come right back.

He pinned him with his eyes—dark and wide with the flames behind him like a demonic halo. Bright red and blue lights flashed in his endless pupils and then he was there. He held Owen like he was fragile. And then be breathed, his chest brushing against Owen’s face with each shaky breath.

Precious.

No one had ever called him that. Even his parents had always told him to be stronger, not to be so afraid. He was a man. But Jamie had called him precious. Had treated him like he was something to be protected.

Owen feltsafein Jamie’s arms. For the first time in a long time, he felt like nothing could touch him.

Now he was humming with that energy. Despite the weight on his arm, he felt light. He had no home. All his stuff was incinerated. He couldn’t even use his car because his keys had been in the apartment. But none of that mattered because Jamie had come for him, and Owen finally realized what it was he was feeling.

He eyed the computer mounted to the wall of the exam room. Sitting up, he dragged it out on its extendable arm and shook the mouse to wake it up. The hospitals logo popped up on a lock screen. His cast thunked against the keyboard and he had to shift several times before he got a comfortable angle.

Owen should be concerned that it was so easy to circumnavigate the security on the hospitals system, but that was HIPAA’s problem. The computer was slow and clunky, not at all suited to his needs. But an idea formed the moment he opened the records.

This was the biggest hospital in the area, and it stood to reason their bad guy might have come here once or twice. And while he might have used an alias, if children’s services had ever brought him in they would have used his legal name. Unfamiliar with the program, it took Owen a few minutes to get to the correct screen. From there it was as easy as typing in his name.

Bingo.