Page 36 of Darlin'

"What are you looking for?" I ask in a meek tone, taking in my surroundings. Collector rifles and dated photos of biking rallies hang from all four walls; various documents, maps, and charts are spread across the office table. "Jesse?"

"Got 'em!” He pulls out a pair of star-studded black combat boots and gives them a good dusting. He drops the shoes by my feet. "Try these on." He yanks a pair of rolled socks from the bottom drawer and tosses them at me. "Here."

"Those your shoes?" I ask, catching the socks mid-air. "'Cause I doubt we're the same size." I glance at hisBlundstone boots, swallowing. "Definitely not the same size."

Jesse blinks. "You seriously think those are mine?" He picks up one shoe. "There's fucking tassels."

"I don't know." I shrug. "Maybe you went through a tassel phase or something; how would I know?"

"I—" Jesse closes his eyes, exasperated. "Just put on the fucking boots, Savannah."

"I don't want to wear a stranger's shoes," I protest. "I'm fine; I'll be more careful 'round Jiggs. Promise. Can I go now?"

"These were my mothers, and you're fucking bleeding," Jesse grunts, placing his hand on my shoulder and forcing me to sit down on a chair. "Shoes. Now."

"These were your...your momma's?" I ask, holding up the boot and checking the size. "Hey, we're the same size." I bite my lip, a feeling of sympathy bubbling in my chest. "You uh—you miss her?"

Jesse swallows. "What?"

"Do you miss her?" I ask, taking off my heels and slipping on the pair of socks. "How long has it been since she...passed?"

"How do you know about that?" he asks, the tendons in his neck tensing. "Did Marlow..."

"Andy mentioned it in passing," I divulge shamelessly, unlacing the boots before shoving my foot inside. "Hmm...I kind of like 'em."

"Andy, huh?" Jesse clicks his tongue. "Great. Fucking big mouth."

I frown. “Did you not want me to know?"

Jesse sighs. "I don't like having my personal life talked about."

"That's fair," I say, chewing on the inside of my lip. "Sorry for asking, I wasn't trying to?—"

"No." Jesse leans against his desk and runs his hand through his hair. He lets out a melancholy breath. "It's fine, I just—" He peers down at me, hesitating before whispering, "Of course I miss her. I miss her every fucking day."

"What..." I clear my throat, treading lightly. "What was she like?"

Jesse snorts. "She was a handful." He gives me a softened side-eye. "Always had to be right, never took no for an answer, and couldn't cook for shit."

"My type of woman." I smile, stroking Jesse's arm in comfort. "I think I would've liked her plenty."

"Most people did," Jesse says, briefly glancing at my hand. He flinches but doesn't move. I don't either. "Town lost a great woman when she died."

"My nana was like that," I say, smiling at the memory. "Definitely left a mark on every heart she encountered. My poppa was devastated when she passed."

"'Least your nana had your pops," Jesse grumbles. "My mom only had me."

I frown. "What about your dad?"

"Parents divorced when I was eight," Jesse reveals, his phone ringing in his pocket. He answers the calls, tone stone cold, "What happened?" Jesse leaps from the desk, eyes wide as he paces, and my own heart flutters from his nervous energy. "Where? How many?" He bangs his fist against the wardrobe, then opens the doors, retrieving apistol from the top shelf. "Fuck, we're coming. Stay there." He sticks his head out of his office and yells, "Tiny! Rocco! We've got a problem."

My eyes spring open, pulse skittering with nerves. A problem? "What...what happened? What's wrong?"

"Nothing; get back to work." Jesse's chaotic movements elevate my already heightened anxiety as he gets ready for what looks like a bloody battle. Knives, guns, bullets. The whole shebang. He gently moves me out of his way and shoves three clips into his vest pocket. "Go back to the bar—we got this."

"Got what?" I ask, my heart beating frantically. I wrap my hand around his bicep, silently begging for the truth. "Please tell me what's going on. Is my brother okay?"

Jesse swallows as Tiny and Rocco enter the office. "I don't know," he whispers to me, then snaps his head at the boys. "We gotta go right fucking now."

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