Page 62 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

“Did I keep you out too late last night?” There’s nothing patronizing about his question.

“No, not at all. I uh, I didn’t sleep well.” I shrug one shoulder because not sleeping well and having nightmares is a normal thing for me, courtesy of my birth parents.

Riggs scoots his chair forward, drawing himself in and tucking his arms into his chest, suddenly concerned. I try to avoid talking about it because I’m not in the mood today when I ask him how he is doing, but he ignores my question.

“Is everything okay? Do you want to talk about it?” Now he’s right up next to me, closer than he’s ever been in class. I glance around the room, checking to see if anyone notices. Not that I care if they do, but I wonder if he cares.

“Everything is fine and no, I don’t particularly want to talk about it.” He thumbs through a novel, staring at it without seeing it.

“You don’t want to talk about it, or you don’t want to talk to me about it?” he asks, and I don’t miss the meaning behind his words.

Before I can stop it, my fingers wrap around his forearm. The muscles bunch and flex beneath my touch and for a second, I think he is going to shoo me away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he relaxes, letting out a slow breath.

“Hey, it’s not you. I promise. I just don’t want to talk about it. It happened last night, and I’d rather let it go. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I think it does.” He turns to face me, giving me a flash of those icy blues, though they don’t hold the anger and disdain they used to. While they aren’t happy, they’re not flooded with sadness—only a dash lingers. “Do the nightmares keep you up or the flashbacks?”

“Huh?” I mumble, caught off guard. “Oh um, a mixture of both.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that. No one deserves memories of their parents laying a hand on them.”

“It’s okay now. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” He’s getting angry, but I can tell it’s not toward me, simply the situation and perhaps his past, which I’m assuming involves some sort of abuse, judging by his reaction. “You told me you’re exhausted because you had trouble sleeping last night. Trouble caused by your parents, the people who are supposed to love you and cherish you, not put their fucking hands on you, Charley.”

“Riggs,” I start, applying pressure to his arm to get him to listen to me. “Hey, look at me.” His eyes flick to mine as he snaps out of wherever he just went. “I’m okay. Alright?I’m fine.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw and he is grinding his teeth so hard I can hear the bones groaning. It’s so fucking sweet. I mean, I don’t want him to be upset, especially over something written in the past that we can’t edit now, but his reaction is sweet and unexpected.

His fingers bunch into fists on his desk, and his body goes rigid. He’s staring straight forward, glaring at the back of some girl’s head.

“I want to hold you, Charley. I want—” He gnashes his teeth together, cutting off whatever else he was going to say. My head jerks back, not able to mask my surprise. He looks at me once again, and I work to hide my shock at his admission.

My chest is light, but my breathing is uneven.

He wants to hold me?

Smoothing my fingers down his arm, I intertwine them with his. I’m not sure what it would be like to be held by Riggs, probably great. Can’t say I’d complain. To be with him, though, would clearly be intense. Riggs is a potent person with the sort of intensity molded by an unimaginable past.

“I’m here, Riggs.”

“I wish we weren’t in class,” he adds but doesn’t look at me, making me feel like we are the only ones in the room.

And because I’d have to agree, I say, “Me too, but it will be over in a few minutes.”

Warmth fills his eyes and his edges soften, his fingers tighten around mine as if he likes what I said. “What do you have after this?”

“I’m free for the rest of the day. I was going to catch up on some homework.”

CHAPTER29

RIGGS

When Charley saidher classes were over for the day, I was doomed. I followed her to her Jeep and climbed in. I mentioned somewhere she would like, and now we’re headed there.

Lazy and tempting, her hand rests on the center console. What the hell is wrong with me? Why the fuck do I think this is okay? I’ve let no one in, no one. Relationships aren’t my thing and not because I’m a playboy, it’s just because no one will handle my past or even my present. I’m haunted. Not a person someone can love easily and not a person to let another in.

I’d hate to put that on anyone. Expect them to deal with it, knowing that if it ever gets to where I can’t handle it, I will end things for myself. I have no problem with erasing my existence from this earth.

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