Page 1 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part 2

CHAPTER1

Riggs has been spiralingfor weeks, and it’s so painful to watch. I don’t know where we went wrong. No, scratch that, I’m aware of whereitwent wrong. Well, technically, it didn’t go wrong. Gramma died, and now he’s suffering by himself because he won’t let anyone else in. The part that hurts the most is we made a deal that we wouldn’t shut one another out and he’s doing exactly that.

I want to help him.

He’s sitting right next to me, yet he’s so far away it’s ridiculous. That candied grape and fresh outdoors scent that accompanies him is hitting all the right buttons for me. Visions of us together fly through my mind. That was such a fucking magical night, and not to say that Gramma ruined it by dying, it wasn’t her fault. It was Riggs’. He diminished our time together to simplyfucking. While his words were harsh, he didn’t mean them. That night was too amazing to see it as anything other than making love.

Aside from me checking on him, we haven’t really talked much. We’re only sitting together because this is a group thing. Or rather, itwasa group thing. This is the first time in three weeks we’ve been together that I’ve seen him in person, and Foxy, Kai, and J have already left. We’re both still sitting here because we don’t know how to handle leaving. Do we hug? Kiss? Say goodbye? Or do we get up and leave? My heart is still in it. I hope his is as well, but I don’t know anymore.

If my heart pummeling my chest isn’t a sign of how much I want him, then I’m not sure what is. Pretty soon, he’ll get up. He’s been playing that damn game on his phone while his tray sits idle on the table, the food going to waste.

I tense my entire body, clenching my fists as I try to form the courage to say something. It’s Riggs, and he’s still here. That has to count for something, right?

Just Riggs…saying that is like saying we werejust fucking.

“I miss you. God, Riggs, I fucking miss you so much. I need to know that you’re okay.”

“I’ve been telling you I’m okay.” His response is so simple, unemotional, it’s excruciating. Yeah, he’s been telling me. Going through the motions because he knows I’m going to text him to check on him. If he doesn’t answer, I’ll show up at his house. He never answers the phone when I call, but he will text. So I text him a few times a day.

I should let him go. That’s what he wants. He’s made that more than obvious. But I can’t. I can’t let go of someone who has flipped my world so thoroughly on its ass. Even if he is his own worst enemy.

“Exactly, you’ve beentellingme. I want toseethat you’re okay.” I try to keep the hysteria that’s tearing through my insides from my voice. It isn’t easy. Albeit brief, he was once mine. Still feels like mine.

To stop myself from touching him, I lift my thighs and stuff my hands beneath them. Plenty of food resides on my tray as well because I only managed to eat a small salad and occupied my mouth to keep quiet with a giant cup of soda.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” I sigh, frustration getting the better of me. After three fucking weeks, he could give me more than this the first time we see each other. I groan, not sure what I’m doing at this point. Why can’t I take the hint and move on?

Because I love him.I shouldn’t love him. Not like he’s given me many reasons to love him.

“What are we Riggs? What the fuck are we? I can’t take this anymore,” I plead. He doesn’t look up from his phone, but his stare has gone vacant.

When he finally graces the cafeteria with his gaze, pain, agony, and regret are like a vortex swirling in his eyes. “I made it clear from the beginning that we wouldn’t work. It’s not my fault that you couldn’t listen.”

Cold.A chill blankets me.

From that, a wound festers in my chest, opening me up and all my pain, my love, pours out. I rub at my chest, the ache there physical. With a frown, Riggs notes my movement, and grinds his teeth. Longing flashes before he buttons his features up, his lips a hard dash across his face.

Why won’t he give in to what we have?

“Then what are you doing here?” I ask pointedly.

Without hesitation and way too easily, he says, “I’m taking my lunch break.”

Now it’s my turn to grind my teeth. I have to keep my mouth shut or else I’ll say something I don’t mean. We’re playing this game of cat and mouse, tit-for-tat. This is the way it has always been with him. To expect anything else is foolish on my part.

Maybe I’m the Jester.

I won’t give up on him, though. His declarations, the way he worked my body… that was all something. There issomethingbetween us. That’s why it hurts so damn much to see him like this, to write off everything we have like it doesn’t exist. As if he could walk away without a care in the world.

I glimpsed his eyes. He cares. I have to get him to accept that.

“What are you still doing here, then? Everyone else left,” I counter, giving in to his game.

“What are you still doing here?” He tosses the question back my way as if it’s that easy.

“Well, I was waiting for you because you didn’t get up. I thought—”

“You shouldn’t have thought anything.” He stands, his tray scraping against the tabletop as he slides it to the edge to pick it up.

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