Page 59 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

Slow and gentle, as if he is waiting for me to rip my hand away, Riggs loops his fingers between mine. My heart stops altogether, and I have to remind myself to breathe. He’s holding my hand. Touching me. Possibly just for comfort?

Can I handle the weight of knowing I’m responsible for making his day a little brighter? That’s a lot of pressure. It’s not like I didn’t touch him first.

I’m glad my presence makes him comfortable, like he can let his guard down. Exactly why I tried to bring him lunch and sat with him the other day, right? If anything, we can drown together.

“I tried staying home when she was first diagnosed. Stayed close by or wouldn’t go anywhere other than school and work. I could barely make it to the bookstore and if I hung out with J, he would come to the apartment. I drove her crazy more than anything because she said me being home reminded her she was sick.” He pauses, thoughtful. “Otherwise, I would be out with J doing something crazy. She doesn’t want me to miss out on anything. She was terminal when she was first diagnosed, but the doctors were optimistic that she had a few years. Now those years are up.”

“Makes sense she would view things that way.”

“Yeah, but it’s hard to leave her—hard to concentrate at school or at work. I’m always wondering—” he locks his jaw and swallows hard. His body is tense, unmoving, as he stares at the piece of art before him.

“If she’ll be alive when you get home?” I finish for him, thinking back on his hesitation when he opened the door earlier. The relief when she called out to him.

Holy shit, that’s rough.

No wonder he’s so fucking down all the time. He lives with his grandmother and he’s waiting for the time she dies. Would I be strong enough to handle something of that magnitude like he is without shutting down?

“I’m terrified she’s going to die by herself because I’m out doing something silly.”

“Don’t think about something so grim. You’re doing what she’s asked you to do, not something silly. You’re living your life.” I take a chance and move in front of him. Then, I’m not sure why, perhaps I need to be closer to him, to let him know I’m here for him, I bring our hands to my heart.

He tears his gaze from the wall and drops his eyes to our hands for a moment. Then he brings his eyes to mine and I swear he peers into my soul. A million emotions are pouring through him. He parts his lips, his brow dipping in confusion, but he doesn’t outwardly question the contact. I’d like to say I’m not, that I know why I did it, but I can’t. I’m still confused about why I’m here at all. But it’s obvious I’m needed and right where I should be.

“I keep telling myself that, but it’s just a pretty lie.” He chews the inside of his cheek, the little ticks of popping skin audible.

“You love her, so I imagine it is.”

“She’s all I have left,” he admits, then snaps his jaw shut, frustrated as he rakes his free hand through his hair, brushing the strands to one side.

Did he go too far for his own comfort? Tell me too much? There are many questions I want to ask him, a million things I want to tell him about myself. Show him I understand his darkness.

“Do you want to paint?” He changes the subject, releasing my hand and backing away to seek his pack. An ache creeps into my hand, wishing to hold him again.

Gone before ever really here, the moment is over. I want to be upset, but his Gramma’s warning, Jensen’s comments, are swirling through my mind. Riggs doesn’t share parts of himself often and we are only getting to know one another. I won’t take his trust in me for granted. When the time is right, we will have more conversations like this.

“And get caught doing something illegal?” I tease, not having even thought about the threat of the police for being down here.

“Nope—only illegal if you get caught,” he explains, and digs through his pack. Pulling out red paint, he hands the can over to me, sliding the cylinder through his grip until the bottom of the can is reaching for me.

“So I can murder you right now and it’s okay, as long as I don’t get caught?” Riggs’ breath catches and his jaw goes tight. Was my joke inappropriate? Usually I’m good at reading our banter.

Something passes through him but it doesn't stick around. He lets out a chuckle but it’s far from an amused sound. “My crimes toward you should hardly be paid for with my life.”

A laugh tumbles out of me, one that eases sudden tension. Brushing it all off, he grins, inching the can towards me. I haven’t heard a car for a while and no souls have journeyed through here. Judging from the amount of paint already on the walls, I would say the law doesn’t mess with the artists. Artists put significant detail into these paintings, professional quality that must have taken some time to complete. Plenty of time for cops to bust in and stop them if they wanted to.

“Are you trying to make an outlaw of me?”

“What do you have to lose?”Such a loaded question.He cocks his head to the side and slips another can of paint from his bag, this time choosing gold.

“Well, considering elite folks with a lot of money adopted me, I’d say I stand to lose a lot. Though, I don’t think they’d give me up over this. But, I also wouldn’t mind tarnishing their perfect reputation a bit.”

He freezes, his skin going pale. “You’re adopted?” I didn’t intend to spill that information, not that it’s hidden. I just didn’t want the conversation to dip again. But it’s out now, and I can’t say I hate him knowing. Maybe this will entice him to share with me, to open up, if I’m open with him.

“Yeah, I am. Kai hasn’t told you?”

“You guys look so much alike,” he notes and I’m going to guess he’s never met our parents. He would realize instantly that my parents adopted both of us if he had.

“Well, we’re blood related so I would expect us to look alike.” I smirk, and he narrows his eyes. “He doesn’t talk about it much. Our birth parents were not pleasant people and Kai doesn’t like to be pitied.”

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