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some fun? I don’t know what the hell you’re hiding from, Jag, but it isn’t worth it. Don’t let it force you to miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime.”
    Thank the fuck Riley didn’t stay much longer. He just waltzed in, tossed out his accusations and challenges and waltzed back out, leaving Jagger wondering, questioning all the things he had thought were paved in solid stone. His head was spinning. His heart was pounding. His dick was throbbing. The same shit his body always pulled whenever he thought about Colton. He hated Colton for making him feel this way and hated himself for being so damned weak where the other man was concerned. He knew better than this shit—knew better than to consider inconsiderable things.
    Riley had tried to make it sound so easy, like his only problem was he was afraid of admitting he was gay. Riley didn’t know shit about him. He was a certified, level ten nutcase that was more than likely incapable of love…because he was definitely incapable of being loved. Even his own damned parents hadn’t loved him. It had been years since he allowed himself to remember—years since he allowed himself to feel the pain he tried to keep tucked inside. He didn’t want to go there tonight but had a feeling he didn’t have a choice. Riley had opened too many wounds with his innocent words. Hiding? Hell, if only it was that simple.
    When Jagger was six, his mother gave him a huge hug and a sweet pat on the top of his head right before she left to run to the grocery store. She was supposed to pick up a box of cake mix and rainbow chip icing. It was his favorite and the holidays were right around the corner.
    Memory is a very valuable asset to possess, especially when it is about all you have left. He remembered that she smelled like fresh lemons that day, instead of her usual cigarette smell. It had made his nose twitch and he’d giggled like a stupid six-year-old—probably the last six-year-old thing he did. She’d been wearing the pretty outfit she always wore when they went to church at Easter and Christmas and he could remember thinking she looked and smelled prettier than he could ever remember. He had thought she had to be the best mother in the entire world.
    He should have known better.
    Remembering what he did yesterday sometimes seemed like a struggle, but he could remember most everything about that day. It had been raining outside, a cold bleak day in mid-December. The rest of the neighbors had their Christmas trees decorated and a few even had some outside lights twinkling around their house but the Jameson house was just as dark and dreary as it was every other day of the year. Just the night before, she had promised they would decorate a tree together this weekend and like any other kid, he’d been beyond excited with the prospect. He didn’t have a clue what they would use to decorate the tree with since they’d never bothered to put one up before, but he felt confident his mother must have had something up her Sunday-go-to-meeting dress sleeve. Maybe, just maybe, if they had a tree, Santa would find their house this year.
    He couldn’t believe he’d ever been that stupid. Riiiight . Santa would find their house. What-the-fuck-ever. Santa-fucking-Claus sped up whenever he flew over their house at Christmas.
    He remembered when a strange feeling had washed over him as he’d watched her walk down their steps. A red convertible waited for her at the end of the driveway. A child could never understand what was about to happen but something inside him drove him to chase after her like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels. He’d caught her when she was about three steps away from what he quickly would learn was her ‘new life’. A chill had swept over his thin body when he’d wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tight against him, clutching to her for dear life. She had tensed up, her arms dangling, never offering to leave her side and wrap him in a