Page 167 of Shrapnel

“Hmm.” Grant pursed his lips. “I’ll let you know.”

Jamie groaned, head flopping back. “Are you punishing me? Is this me being grounded?”

Grant smiled. “Yes. No guns or mayhem until you’ve learned your lesson.”

He made a face to keep from smiling. They shoved their hands in their pockets and let the chaos wash over them. Elijah was speaking to Roland now, looking like a perfect Weaver.

One day Elijah would take over. He would be running Weaver Syndicate. He might not know it yet, hell, maybe even Grant hadn’t considered it. But Jamie saw it. There was no one better. He looked forward to it.

“What was that little church called, the one you grew up near?”

Jamie frowned. “St. Sebastian?”

“Ah, right.” Grant picked up Jamie's crutches, handing them to him. “Seems their Father Connor was murdered.”

His eyes were dark when he looked back at Jamie.

“You were better than him, but I’m not.”

Without waiting for a reply, he patted Jamie on the shoulder and left. Grant snagged Kurt by the elbow, dragging the yelling man behind him as they made their way back toward the car.

Jamie was in shock, staring after him. Grant told him that the reason why all these people cared about him was something he would have to discover himself. He still wasn’t sure what he had done to earn their devotion, he would probably never know, but he would try to be a person worth it. It might take him a lifetime, or maybe longer.

Maybe it would be something he didn’t have to put into words. His family wasn’t big on words, anyway.

It was winter now. Even though the sky was clear, he knew outside the car the wind would be frigid. Even just a few hours north the weather was drastically different. He shivered in his hoodie and debated turning up the heat. The Icee they chugged hadn’t helped—his lips were still crackling with blue flavor. What that flavor was supposed to be, he didn’t know. Owen just enjoyed the rush of sugar.

Jamie slurped on his cherry Icee. The straw honked as he dug in the bottom for more syrup. His lips and tongue were bright red. When Owen teased him about it, he spent ten minutes trying to even out the color so that it looked like lipstick. Owen had almost driven off the road watching him.

He did that a lot. Watching Jamie was his new favorite pastime. In a lot of ways, he was the same goofy boy Owen had fallen in love with. Sometimes though, it was like he was a child discovering things for the first time. Like Icees. And road trips.

Jamie didn’t have a proper childhood. Owen couldn’t change that. But he could give him new memories. Like Icees from a sketchy gas station and singing along to oldies on the radio, hand out the window jumping landmarks like a video game. Jamie was excellent at car games and was always willing to try questionable gas station food.

He had taken to the road trip with enthusiasm. They bought kitschy tourist key chains and Jamie put his feet up on the dash, serenading Owen every time a romantic song played on the radio.

Their casts were gone, and Jamie was going back to work in a few days. Owen had taken up Grant on his offer to work for the Weavers again. He wasn’t sure how his nerves would handle it. But if the alternative was having some second-rate Windows Vista user in charge of Jamie’s safety? Not on his watch.

Jamie tossed the empty cup in the back and rested his frozen fingers on Owen’s thigh.

The GPS dinged and Owen pulled into the parking lot. A rustic post and rail fence lined the empty parking lot with several large signs pointing the way. Jamie leaned up in his seat to get a better view.

“Hey,” Owen called for his attention. When Jamie turned he snapped a picture with his phone.

Jamie failed to look irritated. “Why?”

Owen stuck his tongue out and didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Taking Jamie’s pictures was just for him.

He settled the beanie on his head and got out of the car, hissing at the cold. Ducking into his hoodie, he crunched across the gravel parking lot with Jamie close behind.

The air was crisper here. Not just because of the cold. There was a sort of magic in the air, a heavy expectation. Like the very atmosphere know what a special moment this was. This was the universe's finest work and it wanted you to properly appreciate it.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Owen rocked back on his heels the moment they left the parking lot and the view opened up before them.

Late afternoon sunlight sparkled off the undulating reds and golds of the canyon. It was big. Bigger than he remembered, but then, the last time Owen had been here was as a kid with his family. Back then he was just annoyed that his sister was breathing on him.

Today, he could appreciate the Grand Canyon for what it was. A marvel the world didn’t deserve. What should be an ugly gauge out of the earth, a mortal wound dealt by thousands of years of suffering, was a battle scar that refused to heal. A trophy the world wore like a badge of honor.

Jamie was silent. His eyes were wide, and his mouth parted as he looked over the space. Sunlight caught the fringes of his eyelashes, sparkling against his irises as he looked on in wonder. His mouth was garishly red from the drink, but it didn’t detract from his beauty.