Wild Wind: A Chaos Novella (Chaos #6.6)(4)

Jag stopped once through this, when some asshat called her “talent.”

He was in staredown with the asshat when A put her hand on his back and said, “He’s a douche. Let it go. I don’t care. I am talent and he’s never gonna get that lucky.”

She was right.

Still, Jag gave it a couple more seconds to make his point before he broke contact and kept moving.

Her car was parked at the curb and it was nice. A solid Honda a dad would think his girl was safe in.

She beeped it and he opened the door for her.

“So, you’re, like, a gentleman?” she teased.

“My dad is dead, I was raised by my mom, so yeah. A woman raises you, you got no choice but to learn to treat women right, unless you’re a moron or born a dickhead.”

She kept eye contact with him all the time he said this, but when he was done, she looked away.

“A—” he started.

“You know it hasn’t gotten better,” she told the road.

He felt like an imposter.

Because, yeah, he knew that.

But she’d been fourteen (fifteen?) when her mom died.

He’d been three when his dad was gone.

He still said, “It doesn’t get better. You just get used to it.”

She looked back to him and she looked pissed.

Or hurt.

He’d get it when she said, “My dad’s dating someone.”

For her, it was a betrayal.

For him, if his mom got her shit together and started moving on, it’d be a relief.

Which was why he said, “That’s good.”

And now she was definitely pissed. “No, it isn’t. She died, like, yesterday.”

“It wasn’t yesterday, A,” he said softly.

She got that stubborn expression on her face before she turned her attention to her toes.

He got closer to her.

Not too close, but close.

She looked up at him.

Perfect height, even if she had on heels.

He was tall, he wasn’t into short women.

But he wasn’t into tall women either.

She was neither.

Yeah.

Perfect.

“My mom isn’t over my dad and we’ll just say my dad’s been gone way longer than your mom has, and it sucks,” he shared. “It fuckin’ hurts. Every day, wakin’ up and seein’ her in pain. I get it doesn’t feel good seein’ him with another chick or thinkin’ what that means about how he felt about your ma. But trust me, the alternative is way fuckin’ worse.”

“It just…makes me remember, not that I’d forget. But the pain comes back, you know?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, seein’ as Ma hasn’t gone there. But I just want her to be happy. That’s, like, the only thing in this world I want. Because she’s the mom who made it so I want for nothing else, so it’s more like, I need that for her. You get me?”

She nodded and said, “I’m sorry, J. That does sound like it sucks.”

“Don’t be too hard on your dad and don’t make him worry about you. It’s not cool.”

She nodded again and started to fold into her car.

He was about to ask her name, get her number. She was underage, but just.

And they’d just had the deepest conversation he’d had since Hound sat him down to share about the birds and the bees and how he’d knock Jag’s block off if he took a girl ungloved.

But someone called his name and he looked to the house they’d exited.

Some dude he knew was shouting something he couldn’t hear.

Jag called, “What?”

And in that time, she got in her car, closed her door and her Honda started.

When he heard the engine catch, he looked down and through the window at her.

She waved, gave him a smile she didn’t really mean because she was sad and had learned too young how big life could suck.

And he stepped back wide when she pulled her car out of the spot and drove away.





The next time he saw her was maybe a year later. At a concert. At the Gothic.

She was coming his way when he spotted her. She’d seen him before he saw her.

She smiled and waved.

She looked good, happier.

He still saw the weight she carried, something he carried too.

But yeah.

Happier.

And he was glad to see that.

He waved back and started her way.

But since it was a punk act they were catching, and they were in the mosh pit, a surge hit the pit, they both got caught up in it, he lost sight of her, and even if he looked (all night), he didn’t see her again.

That was a serious bummer.

Though, he was glad to know they liked the same kind of music.

He was glad just because they liked the same kind of music.

But also because it meant they might run into each other again.





He saw her a few months later at Taste of Colorado downtown.

They caught up then.

She was with a dude.

He was with a chick.

But she dragged that dude right to Jagger, smiling big.

And Jag stood next to his chick, watching her do it, smiling big right back.

“Hey, J,” she greeted.