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Shit! Jackson wasn’t going to get out of telling Michael anything. “Yeah, that’ll be my fault.”
Looking at him with those big blue eyes, Michael frowned. “What did you do?”
Jackson almost yelled he hadn’t done anything wrong but knew that wasn’t going to do him any good. “I…I might have…I…”
“Maybe we should take this conversation inside?” Finn suggested.
Yes! A reprieve. “Yeah.” He started to tug Michael toward the door, but something had caught Michael’s attention.
“Is that a motorcycle?” Michael asked.
“That would belong to Jackson,” Finn, oh so helpfully, supplied.
“I can explain,” Jackson said lamely.
“You bought a motorcycle?” Michael screeched.
Jackson shrugged. “Yes?”
“And you were riding it? Where’s your helmet? Riding gear? Did you even think about what crashing on that thing could do to you?” Michael’s rapid-fire questions made it clear he was not impressed with Jackson’s newest toy.
“I—”
“Why did you suddenly decide to buy a motorcycle? You’ve never mentioned wanting to ride before. Do you even know how? You’re supposed to take lessons or something.”
Now why was everyone questioning his ability to ride the bike? “I know how to ride.”
Stepping away, Michael crossed his arms over his chest. “What. Did. You. Do.”
Desperate, Jackson looked at Finn for help.
Finn smirked as he held up the cuffs that Jackson had forgotten about. “Shit!”
“You’ve fucked yourself good this time,” Finn commented.
Jackson opened his mouth to remind Finn that Jackson was a fan of fucking, but Finn shook his head.
“Not the way you like either,” Finn finished. “Now head inside so we can all sit down. You have a lot of explaining to do.”
Shuffling his feet, Jackson headed toward the door. He ignored the sound of Finn greeting and kissing Michael as he crossed the threshold into the cabin. The warmth was the first thing he noticed. Jackson didn’t know when it had gotten so cold, but now all he wanted to do was cuddle up with his men on that big leather couch. Probably not going to happen though.
He took in the room and the rest of the open-concept space. Jackson could see the kitchen, a small area where a table with four chairs sat, and three closed doors, but he was noting the exit points. Back door by the kitchen counter. Two windows in the kitchen, one by the table, and two in the living room. Jackson couldn’t see any cameras, but there was a security pad by the front door.
“It’s safe here,” Finn said. He closed and locked the door before he motioned to the alarm. “No one knows where this place is except for a few of us.”
Jackson would still feel better if he had his gun on him. He was carrying a couple knives under his clothes, but he would have preferred to be more heavily armed just in case. If he could just get to his saddlebags—
“We’ll bring your stuff inside in a minute,” Finn told him.
Jackson nodded. That was something at least. Finn understood what Jackson needed even without either of them having to say it. But hadn’t Finn been like that from the start? As Jackson had tested boundaries and pushed Finn away, the older man had been a solid unwavering force.
He turned and met Finn’s gaze before looking to Michael. “I fucked up again, but I swear this is the last time. If you’ll give me a chance to explain, I’ll tell you everything.” That was all he could offer, and Jackson hoped it would be enough.
Michael’s eyes widened, but he nodded. “I’d like to hear whatever it is that you have to say.”
Relief flooded Jackson.
“I’m proud of you,” Finn said quietly in his ear. “Let’s sit down.”
