Jagged Edge

I grab his hand, lead him to the sofa, and when I sit down and tug on his hand, he sits down with me. Still staring as if he’s looking for a different answer on my face. Another explanation.

But I think he understood what I meant, and didn’t run from it, and that, my friends, is the biggest win of all today.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jason

Tonight I’ve gone off the rails. Can’t stop my fucking mouth from running, saying things I’ve never told anyone. Feeling and wanting stuff I have no business wanting.

“You shouldn’t have to ask why.”

What does he mean? And why does it make me wanna smile even though I’m not sure what the fuck he’s saying? He might as well be speaking Chinese for all the sense he’s making.

And yet I know it was something good, something so fucking good I wish I could tell you what it was, but I can’t. The meaning of his words keeps moving out of reach, like the wisp of a dream, gone the moment you wake up, or a word that’s on the tip of your tongue.

Now we’re sitting on the sofa, and he has his arm around my bare shoulders, and it’s warm. His other hand is on my face. I’m drowsy, half-asleep.

Confused, like every time.

He smells so damn good. His fingers slide into my hair, and I groan at the pleasure sparking down my spine. What does he want from me?

What the hell does he want?

The TV is on. I’ve no idea what is playing. Not Shadowhunters. Some show with people wrestling with pigs, I kid you not. And I couldn’t care less. All my senses are focused on Raine’s fingers on my scalp and his body pressed to mine.

“Talk to me,” he whispers.

“Hm.” He massages the top of my head, and I groan into his neck. My arms slide around his hard middle, over his muscular back and toned stomach. “’Bout what?”

“Yourself. What do you like doing?”

I frown against his shoulder, realize my eyes have fallen shut. I open them. “You mean like… what? Like a hobby?”

“Yeah. I mean…” His fingers still, and I swallow a sigh of frustration. I need him not to stop. I need… “Do you get any free time?”

“Yeah.” I think desperately. Hobbies? Fuck. “I, uh. I watch food videos.”

Silence spreads, punctuated by the applause on TV when a pig sits on top of a guy, triumphant.

He’s looking at me, I realize, a brow arched. “Food videos?”

Right. I plod on. “Yeah so, these videos where people… chefs? cook. I like it. It’s soothing. And it’s food, so… and there’s also these mini food v

ideos. Where people cook food in tiny kitchens? With tiny forks and tiny pots and…”

I trail off. I’m not making any sense, probably, and my face heats up. Plus, he hasn’t resumed stroking my hair, so what am I sharing this for, huh? It’s all Mayleen’s fault for showing me those videos in the first place, on her phone.

Which reminds me, I need to find a new phone.

Shit.

“I like cooking series,” Raine says, and I blink stupidly.

“You do?” Fuck me. That’s like… actual normal conversation.

“Yeah. When I was a kid in that fucking trailer park, I swore that one day I’d have my own kitchen and I’d learn how to cook good food. It was one of those dreams, you know? I never told Ocean. He had too much responsibility on his shoulders already and felt bad enough for not always getting us enough food.”

Damn. Every time I get pissed off with him, I conveniently forget that he’s had a rough life, and I can’t lump him together with my other customers, or any other man in my life.