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“Eight days ago, you dropped almost everything you owned into my basement, left a note, and took off,” Lance said. “We don’t hear anything from you until you call about the break-in at the club.”
Well shit. Maybe Jackson should have called. Or sent a text.
“But things worked out, right?” Jayme asked. “You were with Michael when you called. So it’s okay now?”
Jackson nodded. “Yeah. Yes. Everything is fine.”
“We’re going to need more than that,” Skinner said. His voice was calm and controlled but his gaze dark and direct.
What the fuck? Where his friends interrogating him? Seriously?
“Look, I’m not going to fuck anything up between Finn and Michael.” He wasn’t. Those were the only two men that cared about him. Finn had been proving it over and over. Finally, Jackson understood. He didn’t get why but he understood that he was just as important to Finn as anything else.
“That’s not our concern,” Jayme said. He laid his hand over Jackson’s.
Suddenly uncomfortable, Jackson wished Finn was there. Or that Finn had refused to allow Jackson off his chain. Fuck! Jackson wanted to go back to Finn’s apartment and get under the covers with Michael.
“We like Michael and Finn,” Marco said.
Jackson could hear the silent but that Marco didn’t say. What was Marco going to say? That Jackson didn’t deserve them? That they were too good for him? He knew that! He didn’t need anyone else to tell him that. But they loved Jackson anyway. And he loved them. He wasn’t going to give them up no matter what anyone else said.
“But you are our friend,” Jayme said.
It seemed that Jayme and Marco were in charge of this little heart-to-heart as Lance and Skinner looked on. Why Jackson found that funny, he had no idea, but he started to laugh.
“What?” Marco asked.
“Are you okay?” Jayme questioned.
Jackson shook his head.
Skinner growled. “You will take our concerns seriously.”
Jackson gaped at his friend. Skinner never raised his voice. He swallowed hard. “Sorry.”
“Where was I?” Jayme asked.
Marco cleared his throat. “We care about you, Jackson, and we don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Me?” Jackson repeated. “See me hurt? How?”
“By Michael and Finn,” Jayme said. “We know you care about them—”
“I love them,” Jackson interrupted. “I’ve never loved anyone before them.”
Jayme sighed. “That’s what concerns us.”
He was missing something. He just didn’t know how to ask. Except he could just ask, right? “What are you trying to say?”
“We don’t like seeing them use you. You can do better. Find someone that loves you—” Lance began.
Jackson exploded. He leapt from his chair, the wood crashing into the wall behind him, and slammed his hands down on the table. “Fuck you!”
Skinner moved so fast that Jackson didn’t see him clearly. Jackson’s back hit the wall and the breath rushed from his lungs. “Listen.” Skinner’s gaze hardened. “We are not telling this to hurt you.”
Then why? Jackson wanted to cry. Why couldn’t they be happy for him?
“I went to Finn after you took off. I sent him after you.”
