Page 69 of Shrapnel

Evan was lovely and perfect, and Jackson wasterrifiedof him. Of the way he felt for him.

“Somewhere around there is when you made a beeline for the Army. What happened there, and why you’re currently top five on the Armed Forces shit list, is a mystery even to me.”

Jackson felt a little bit of relief at that.

“Then Detroit happened—”

“Don’t talk about Detroit.”

Jamie sucked his teeth. “You asked.”

He did. Jackson had asked but what he heard had left him hollow. He thought fragments of memories were bad enough. But to hear even a condensed version laid out was too much. Jamie seemed to bring out the worst in him, a horrific nostalgia or desire to share part of himself with someone. Reminded him of his humanity. This was the reason he had one foot out the door.

“When are you going to stop punishing yourself for something you didn’t do?” Jamie asked solemnly.

Jackson scoffed, gesturing to Jamie’s piercing and the scars all over his body. “What about you?”

He laughed brittlely. “That’s the difference between us, Jackie Boy. I’m actually guilty.”

They say rain on your wedding day is good luck, but since 50% of all marriages end in divorce Noah was pretty sure that was just bullshit. It seemed to him that the luckiest thing would be not to get married at all, but what did he know?

He tugged at his tie and tried not to sigh. Again.

The church was lovely. With its vaulted ceilings and dark wooden beams, it felt ceremonial. Like he was being watched and judged the moment he stepped foot over the threshold. Someone had decorated the place with gauzy lace and golden flowers. Pops of color softened the ominous look of the raised pulpit. Jing Ling never understood how religion preached equality but then insisted on raising themselves above the congregation.

He did like the stained-glass windows. They were beautifully done, splashes of technicolor against the solemn dark walls. If the sun was shining the room would be lit by rainbows.

Noah wasn’t even sure why he was here. He barely knew the couple's name, but since they were born and raised in the Mesa organization Harvey said he had to be here. Noah suggested just sending a lavish gift. Surely a brand new fridge would be more welcome than a virtual stranger.

Harvey ignored his suggestion, tightening his tie. Noah understood a threat when he felt it.

So he was here, sitting in the back pew and trying not to look bored. Or uncomfortable. Or irritated. Which was difficult since, as Jamie had so lovingly put it, his face was constantly in resting judgmental lordling looking down on all his peasant’s mode.

Harvey hadn’t even allowed Elijah to come with him. He said it would look weird for a Weaver to be in attendance, even though the Mesas and the Weavers were currently allies. Allies didn’t mean friends and with all the scrutiny Noah was under, he couldn’t afford to risk it. Still. He missed him. Elijah would have something nice to say—like how the guitarist was good or how the church had some obscure historical anecdote that he had looked up prior to coming. That was the kind of thing Elijah did.

Harvey took a seat beside Noah. “You should go talk to people.”

“And say what?” Noah snapped. “‘Hey there, I know half of you hate me and the other half have no idea who I am, but let’s exchange some nauseating small talk while we wait for the ceremony to start?’”

His second narrowed his eyes but didn’t say anything. “These are your people.”

Noah clamped down on a disbelieving laugh.

At best these people were like his neighbors. People he could probably recognize in a police lineup if he had to but mostly just did that weird thin-lipped smile with when they passed each other in the hall. Or maybe he was like their boss's boss. Someone they kind of knew in principle but didn’t have any daily interactions with. And didn’t want to. One unqualified guy lording over them was enough, they didn’t need another.

He couldn’t even blame them. Noah was the prodigal son no one wanted to come home.

His father had only held the position for a couple of years. Noah couldn’t tell if he was so loved because he had an innate talent for leadership or because his reign had been so short, he hadn’t had time to fuck it all up. Michael Elliott was a bit of a mystery to him. The only thing he seemed to have inherited was his talented sticky fingers. His aunt and uncle only knew him in the context of the annoying guy who kept flirting with their older sister. Kurt and Willow were far more willing to talk about his mother—but never regarding her marriage or what her husband did. As far as they were concerned, Ellie was an angel in every aspect. Perfect at everything she did.

Unfortunately, her talents were not genetic.

Noah tugged at his golden tie again, shifting in his seat. He shouldn’t be here. Every second he was away from White Sand Mesa was another moment the murders were going unsolved. Everyone he had employed came up empty. So far, only Jamie’s IT guy was the only one producing results. But all his leads dead-ended. Elijah was looking into a church Jamie texted him about, but when Elijah tried to get more info Jamie didn’t answer. It wasn’t unusual for the gunman to disappear for a couple of days at a time, but did he have to do it now of all times?

He glanced at his watch. In a couple of hours, the Snapchat streak Jamie established with Noah would be broken. He had yet to receive a single picture of a trashcan, dumpster, or burn pile today.

Abruptly the music changed, and the wedding party entered. Noah stood with the rest of the guests, trying to recognize any of their faces. The groom looked happy. He couldn’t stop smiling like he couldn’t wait to be married.

Still standing, the guests turned as one to wait for the bride. Again, the music changed, and she finally entered. Noah didn’t know anything about fashion, but he thought she looked nice in her dress. Her rosy, red lips were curved and she had tears in her eyes as her father gave her away. To look at them, it was hard to believe they belonged to an organization like White Sand Mesa.