Page 88 of Shrapnel

Crouching, he shuffled towards the door. One eye affixed to the opening, he held his breath.

Elijah and Noah were standing shoulder to shoulder. Noah had his arm looped through Elijah’s, a casual display of affection that Owen had grown used to seeing. Someone was talking just out of his sight.

A large back blocked his version. He almost staggered back in surprise as he took in Jackson’s absolute unit of a body. His shoulders were broad, tapering down to a strong waist. Even in his all black, Owen could see the cut of his muscles. He looked like he could burst a watermelon with just his biceps.

Jackson stepped forward and reached out a thick arm. Owen shifted so he could see what he was touching.

Jamie looked up at his hand with a small smirk. Head tilted, he watched as Jackson grabbed at his side.

“How’s it healing?” his stupid voice was rumbly and manly.

“If you kiss it, it’ll heal faster.”

Jackson ticked his jaw, ignoring Jamie’s flippant answer to tug at Jamie’s shirt. He pulled it out of the tuck, lifting it high to expose the lean plane of Jamie’s abdomen. An ugly-looking bandage was taped to his skin. Owen’s breath caught. That must be the injury he had when…. God the bandage looked huge. How did he even walk with something like that?

Owen watched as Jackson’s big hand dropped to rest on Jamie’s hip. It was so easy. Like the casual physical touch between friends. Or lovers. A big thumb swiped over the edge of the bandage, prodding. Jamie hissed, nose wrinkling a little.

The knot in his chest tightened. Bile rose in his throat and the flicker of irritation licked up his spine.

He cleared his throat and pushed open the door with more restraint than he felt. Owen learned his lesson about surprising a room full of killers. The group lifted their heads to look at him. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t look at Jamie. Couldn’t make eye contact with him. Not yet. Not while it felt like his legs were melting out from under him.

“I got some stuff.” Owen cringed at the squeak in his voice. He blew some hair from his eyes and cleared his throat again. “I mean, I uh, the candy…”

He pulled the wad of papers from his hoodie pocket and opened them. “Turns out it’s a weird kind of imported milk candy. Not manufactured in the US.”

Elijah’s eyebrows quirked up. He looked down at the sheaf of papers in Owen’s hands. “That’s good. We can look into distributors and find out who imports them.”

Owen rolled his eyes. “I already did that.” He strode toward their board, tacking up the map he had crudely put together. It was a lame GPS printout he had drawn on.

“There are several shops and grocery stores that sell the candy. It’s pretty popular in some circles. But only one shop is close to White Sand Mesa.” He pointed to the red circle on the west side of town.

Elijah glanced over at Jamie. “That’s only a couple of blocks from The Cleft.”

Owen followed Elijah’s attention. Jamie was looking at him from behind Jackson. His shirt was back on, and his face was drawn. He nodded in response to Elijah’s comment, but he was looking at Owen.

“Good job, O Face.”

There was nothing particularly special about his tone, but Owen flinched from the nickname. He knew it was one of Jamie’s walls. A barrier he put between himself and the world. Owen hated it.

He had wanted to organically find a moment to get him alone, but Owen should have known he didn’t have that kind of luck.

“Can we talk?” Owen looked right past Jackson, ignoring the way he raised his eyebrow and looked between them. The room was so quiet he could have heard a pin drop. Swallowing past his anxiety, he pushed forward. “Please.”

Jamie’s lips quirked. “It’s fine. We don’t need to.”

“Yes, we do.” Owen insisted.

Jackson took a step toward Owen as if he was going to step between him and Jamie. Break their eye contact. He didn’t look at the big man, slipping past him and walking right up to Jamie. He took his hand, leading him out the door without another word.

He wasn’t sure if Jamie would resist. His brain wasn’t doing the whole thinking thing at the moment. Owen just needed to feel Jamie. The moment he felt Jamie’s hand clasping his back, he let out a shaky breath. The knot in his chest didn’t quite ease, but it loosened. He didn’t dare look back at Jamie, just dragging him along blindly until he found a set of glass doors that led to a large indoor garden.

A blast of humidity hit him as he stepped through. Owen didn’t bother looking around, just kept walking until he found a rickety bench partially overgrown by greenery, he didn’t let go of Jamie’s hand until they were both seated. The act of letting go felt strangely poignant. Like the act of holding hands was the only thing keeping Jamie beside him, and if he let go he might disappear. Not physically, but emotionally. Those walls would snap up like a trap and Jamie would be gone. If he retreated there, Owen would never be able to find him again.

Scuffing his sneakers against the dirt, he tried to formulate a way to start.

Jamie beat him to it. “You don’t have to do this.”

Surprised, Owen turned to him. Jamie was sitting straight, body almost turned away from him as he stared across the tile path to the fogged-up glass walls. He didn’t look angry. He looked distant.