Page 102 of The Good Son


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“I think she’s wishing she was at home with Dad. How about you?”

“No. I’m fine. I’m actually at Joey’s. In the big old scary Bradford house.”

“Oh.”

J.T. shook his head. “Notoh.I checked in with her earlier and her roof was leaking. I’m just helping her out.”

“Right. Got it.”

J.T. sighed. “It’s completely innocent. Except for…”

“Except for what?”

J.T. sat up and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. “Except for the fact we kissed.”

Sawyer blew out a breath. “That doesn’t sound innocent to me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. It just happened.” He rubbed his face. “And now I’m not sure what to do about it.”

“What do you want to do about it?”

“I don’t want to do anything about it. It’s not a place I want to go.” He hoped he was convincing Sawyer, because he sure wasn’t convincing himself.

“So how’d you get there, then?”

“She hates it when the power goes out. The dark. And the thunder and lightning. It scares her. And we were in the bathroom dumping a bucket of water.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“Shut up. I had a flashlight, but it went out for some reason and the next thing I know, she’s in my arms and I’m kissing her.”

Sawyer was quiet for a moment. “Did she kiss you back?”

“Yeah. It was definitely a two-way kiss.” A really nice two-way kiss.

“Then what happened?”

J.T. shrugged. “Then we both agreed it was a weird, unplanned thing, and we went back downstairs.”

“And nothing since?”

“No. It’s like it never happened. Or at least it was until a few minutes ago.”

“Tell me.”

J.T. pulled the blanket tighter around his chest. “We were saying goodnight, and Joey told me she didn’t want to forget about it. That is was nice, and she’s been a little short on nice lately.”

“She wants to start something?”

“No, that’s not what she meant. I don’t know. She just wants to hold on to the memory.”

Sawyer laughed. “You two need to get over yourselves and get back together.”

“It’s not that simple. A lot of crap went down those last few weeks.”

“My dear big brother. You guys were eighteen. Two emotionally immature kids dealing with adult problems of separation and guilt.”

“Okay, Dr. Phil.”

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