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There was a lot to think about. Michael lifted his thumb back to his mouth while closing his eyes as Jackson snuggled him close. Maybe he could think after a nap.
* * * * *
Jackson
Michael fell asleep against his chest and Jackson merely watched his partner nap. So many emotions bombarded Jackson and he was finding it hard to merely lie there, but as long as Michael wanted to be held, Jackson would do it.
The itch running up his neck was not unfamiliar, but Jackson wasn’t used to dealing with it outside of being on a job. He was fighting the urge to run. To do something. He had been caught with his pants down, literally, and because of his failure, Michael was having to deal with the possibility he’d hurt someone. Not that Michael had done much damage.
As Jackson had tackled Cary Jeffers, Cary had still been fighting. There wouldn’t be any permanent damage. Jackson meant what he’d said to Michael. Jackson could read people and Cary Jeffers honestly believed that Finn was his.
When Jackson had passed a defeated and crying Cary Jeffers to Grant, he’d whispered to the cop to be careful with him. The devastation on Cary’s face. That didn’t sit right with Jackson. No matter what he’d done. Jackson just regretted that it had taken place at all.
The broken chain of his cuff caught his eye.
Well maybe Jackson hadn’t been completely honest with Michael. Having the chain snapped was fucking with Jackson’s balance. It made running or fighting even more enticing. He could just slip out and—
The door opened.
Jackson could feel the disturbance in their peace. He popped his head out from under the blanket and frowned.
That was not Finn.
What the hell?
How long had they been waiting anyway?
Slipping out from under the blanket, Jackson made sure that Michael was covered from head to toe before he stood in front of the couch.
“What are you doing here?”
“Hayley and I were out for dinner with Mitch and Byron. The boys are in the car downstairs, but Lance and Skinner are about to lose their minds with you not answering your phone. I told them I would check on things, but they sent Creed and Sammy. Sammy would like to look at your boy,” Mac said.
Jackson blinked at him. That might be more words at one time than Jackson had ever heard the other man use.
“We’re fine,” he said defensively. He could look after Michael. Give him what he needed.
“I have no reason to doubt that. However, Sammy would really like to make sure Michael isn’t in shock or something like that.”
Michael was his responsibility. Jackson would know if Michael needed anything. Wouldn’t he? Okay, maybe Michael had been really upset. Could it be shock? Fuck! Now Jackson was questioning whether he was taking proper care of Michael.
“He’s asleep,” Jackson said.
Mac lifted a brow as his eyes darted behind Jackson.
Turning, Jackson saw Michael peeking out from the corner of the blanket. He sighed.
“All of the boys really like Michael,” Mac told him. “They’re worried about him. Even though he is probably fine, it would help if Sammy at least saw that for himself, and he could pass the message along. The text messages between the boys have been blowing up.”
Jackson crouched. It would be up to Michael. “Can Sammy come check on you? Would that be okay?”
With a smile, Michael nodded.
Shit! Maybe Michael did need someone other than him.
Mac walked back toward the door and pulled it open. “Come in.”
Creed and Sammy walked in hand in hand, Sammy still in his pale blue scrubs from his shift at the hospital.
