waist. Even towering over her petite, 5 foot frame, Jagger never felt more like a kid then when she hugged him and called him ‘baby.’
“Can I fix you something to eat?” she asked as she rubbed a flour covered thumb over his unmarred cheek. Just once he wished she’d touch the scarred one the same way. Not because he actually needed her touch but because he wanted her to stop pretending like the jagged, raised flesh wasn’t there.
“No,” he answered and she quickly released him to return to her cake. Jagger wasn’t surprised to see her carefully carry it to the refrigerator and put it inside. He liked his coffee cake to be slightly chilled, not room temperature.
His mother finally seemed to relax and a bright smile covered her face as she began untying her apron. Her dark brown hair was fashioned into a simple twist at the nape of her neck and bits of flour clung to the few strands that had escaped. Brown eyes darted between him and the dirty counter and he could see the indecision in her gaze. She was clearly on a timetable but didn’t want to disregard his presence. Jagger decided the course of action for her and began collecting some of the dishes she’d used to make the cake and dumped them in the sink. When he began washing them, he felt his mother’s small hand brush over his back. The small gesture of appreciation took the sting out of knowing his mother was having company tonight.
“Where have you been this week?” she asked as she began drying the dishes he placed on the counter next to sink.
“Work stuff,” he answered. He didn’t really like lying to his mother but he sure as hell couldn’t tell her he’d been holed up for the better part of a week in a remote cabin in the mountains with a man who’d nearly taken his life with one almost perfectly aimed bullet.
“Did you make any new friends?”
Jagger bit back a laugh at the odd question. To his mother he was still the scrawny little boy who had had trouble connecting with others in class. He’d never had the heart to tell her that the kinds of kids she’d always hoped he’d befriend in school were the same kids who had tortured him with endless taunts about how stupid he was. Well, until he’d turned twelve and towered over all of them anyway. After that, one hard punch to the ringleader’s upturned nose was all it had taken to make sure the shit the kids said about him was done behind his back and not to his face.
“A couple,” he answered and cursed the image of Ren and Declan arguing heartily over the fate of the fish that hung from the end of Ren’s pole. The look on Declan’s face when the huge fish had been dropped back into the water had been priceless.
“And how’s Connor?”
“Good,” he answered simply.
“That poor boy,” she whispered and he wasn’t surprised to see her make the sign of the cross against her chest. “I will pray for him,” she said softly.
He wanted to tell her that if God had been listening to any of her prayers, Connor sure as shit wouldn’t have ended up with an asshat like Jason Sutter. Nor would he be struggling with the after effects of a war that had nearly destroyed him.
Jagger finished the last of the dishes and watched his mother carefully dry each and every one. Her eyes shifted to the clock above the stove and her hand came up to push a stray hair behind her ear.
“What time is he getting here?” Jagger finally asked.
His mother kept her eyes downcast when she said, “Half an hour.”
Jagger knew she wanted all of that time to make sure she looked her best. It was on the tip of his tongue to say that after twenty years the fucker shouldn’t care that she had a few hairs out of place or a couple of wrinkles in her dress. But he didn’t because it wouldn’t matter. It never mattered. His mother was in love and Jagger was smart enough not to ask her to choose between the son who thought she deserved better and the man who kept her hidden in the shadows. Because he
“Can I fix you something to eat?” she asked as she rubbed a flour covered thumb over his unmarred cheek. Just once he wished she’d touch the scarred one the same way. Not because he actually needed her touch but because he wanted her to stop pretending like the jagged, raised flesh wasn’t there.
“No,” he answered and she quickly released him to return to her cake. Jagger wasn’t surprised to see her carefully carry it to the refrigerator and put it inside. He liked his coffee cake to be slightly chilled, not room temperature.
His mother finally seemed to relax and a bright smile covered her face as she began untying her apron. Her dark brown hair was fashioned into a simple twist at the nape of her neck and bits of flour clung to the few strands that had escaped. Brown eyes darted between him and the dirty counter and he could see the indecision in her gaze. She was clearly on a timetable but didn’t want to disregard his presence. Jagger decided the course of action for her and began collecting some of the dishes she’d used to make the cake and dumped them in the sink. When he began washing them, he felt his mother’s small hand brush over his back. The small gesture of appreciation took the sting out of knowing his mother was having company tonight.
“Where have you been this week?” she asked as she began drying the dishes he placed on the counter next to sink.
“Work stuff,” he answered. He didn’t really like lying to his mother but he sure as hell couldn’t tell her he’d been holed up for the better part of a week in a remote cabin in the mountains with a man who’d nearly taken his life with one almost perfectly aimed bullet.
“Did you make any new friends?”
Jagger bit back a laugh at the odd question. To his mother he was still the scrawny little boy who had had trouble connecting with others in class. He’d never had the heart to tell her that the kinds of kids she’d always hoped he’d befriend in school were the same kids who had tortured him with endless taunts about how stupid he was. Well, until he’d turned twelve and towered over all of them anyway. After that, one hard punch to the ringleader’s upturned nose was all it had taken to make sure the shit the kids said about him was done behind his back and not to his face.
“A couple,” he answered and cursed the image of Ren and Declan arguing heartily over the fate of the fish that hung from the end of Ren’s pole. The look on Declan’s face when the huge fish had been dropped back into the water had been priceless.
“And how’s Connor?”
“Good,” he answered simply.
“That poor boy,” she whispered and he wasn’t surprised to see her make the sign of the cross against her chest. “I will pray for him,” she said softly.
He wanted to tell her that if God had been listening to any of her prayers, Connor sure as shit wouldn’t have ended up with an asshat like Jason Sutter. Nor would he be struggling with the after effects of a war that had nearly destroyed him.
Jagger finished the last of the dishes and watched his mother carefully dry each and every one. Her eyes shifted to the clock above the stove and her hand came up to push a stray hair behind her ear.
“What time is he getting here?” Jagger finally asked.
His mother kept her eyes downcast when she said, “Half an hour.”
Jagger knew she wanted all of that time to make sure she looked her best. It was on the tip of his tongue to say that after twenty years the fucker shouldn’t care that she had a few hairs out of place or a couple of wrinkles in her dress. But he didn’t because it wouldn’t matter. It never mattered. His mother was in love and Jagger was smart enough not to ask her to choose between the son who thought she deserved better and the man who kept her hidden in the shadows. Because he
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