Page 108 of Shrapnel

With a ding, the elevator doors closed and Jamie was left staring at his reflection.

Elijah had often been worried about Jamie. Half the time he was busy worrying about Jamie, while the other half was spent worrying about Noah. He supposed it was a good thing neither of them had their lives together. He wouldn’t know what to do with all the free time.

After a quick shower and change, they ended up back in Elijah’s car driving south. Jamie hadn’t been especially forthcoming with where they were going. He had been uncharacteristically silent the entire drive.

Elijah spent a lot of time thinking about him after his panic attack. Jamie always kept everything at a distance. He let Elijah in, but only shallowly. Only as much as he needed to. Elijah allowed it because he thought that was what he needed. Perhaps he thought one day Jamie would cave and finally let him in. He had no idea it would be something like this.

And in the end, whatever stuff Jamie was keeping hidden, didn’t matter. Elijah didn’t need to know if Jamie didn’t want to tell him.

“Where we’re going,” Jamie started, staring out into the black window just as dawn was beginning to peak over the East. “It’s not going to be pretty.”

“I figured.”

“You won’t recognize me.”

“That’s my problem,” Elijah snapped. “When are you going to stop doubting me?”

Jamie’s teeth flashed against the dark glass. “Never.”

Elijah rolled his eyes and adjusted his grip on the wheel. The highway opened up and Elijah kept the urge to call Noah under control. He was with Jackson, who was arguably the best person to keep him safe. But it was less his physical safety Elijah was worried about and more his emotional.

Noah was holding it together by his fingertips. He was miserable and tightly strung. Elijah didn’t know how to help him. Sometimes he wondered if he should run. Take Noah and leave this life behind. Try to be normal somewhere. A place where they could pay taxes and worry about things like their countertops matching the cabinets. That’s what normal couples did, right? They didn’t talk about their past traumas or hunt down killers together. Could they do that?

Could Elijah?

Because if he left, he would be gone. There was no ‘see you next month’ when you left a gang. The Weavers would let him, but only because they trusted him. He would have to give up everything. Even his name. He would never see Jamie again. The gunman wouldn’t survive outside a life outside the gang. He couldn’t function like a normal person.

Did Elijah love Noah enough to give it all up?

He was ashamed to admit that he wasn’t sure.

Jamie indicated he should pull off the highway and they ended up in a section of city that never slept. The exit sign had been graffitied and no one bothered to scrub it clean. This was the kind of place where things went to die. Hopes, dreams, people. The cement parking lots hid a thousand secrets no one wanted to know.

A vice on every corner if you could pay. Those who came to get their itch scratched kept their heads down, privately ashamed but not enough to stop coming.

Jamie directed Elijah to pull into a squat little church. It was an ugly building, an empty lot on the side with rusted playground equipment. Someone had tried to keep the sign out front up to date but it was dingy yellow anyway.

The lot was full of people coming out from the morning service. As the parishioners socialized, slowly getting into their cars to leave, Jamie stared out the front window.

“You’ve been here before.” Elijah was half expecting a flippant comment.

“I lived around here. My mom was Catholic.”

It was more than Elijah expected, and he had to bite down on his tongue to keep from asking more questions. Jamie never mentioned his mother before. He glanced back at the building. Jamie had been hostile at Our Lady of Peace. Elijah figured it was just typical Jamie. But now he suspected there was a good reason Jamie hated churches.

They were silent until the last minivan pulled out of the lot. Jamie exited the car and Elijah followed. They were both armed to the teeth, Jamie more so than usual. Which wasn’t nearly as alarming as the look on his face.

Jamie wasn’t smiling.

There were no stained-glass windows at this church. Five rows of peeling wooden pews faced a sad looking pulpit. Jamie stared out over the empty room, eyes dark and inscrutable.

“Can I help you?”

A priest was looking at them quizzically. Classically handsome, he had a soft face. Maybe only a few years older than them, he seemed far too young to be wearing the black shirt and white collar of his calling.

“Father Connor,” Jamie greeted without looking at him.

The priest looked bewildered. “I’m sorry, have we met?”