Jackson stood there a beat longer, jeans unbuttoned in his hands, staring at the spot where Cash’s mattress had been.He dressed slow, still half-lost in thought, the smell of Daisy’s cookin’ creeping up through the floorboards. “Because… Gay porn “Mother fucker…” he cursed under his breath, a string of foulness that made the walls blush. The kind that made him stand tall, even when the world tried to knock him down.Jackson spotted them first and grinned. It’s damn near afternoon.” She slid a plate in front of him, biscuits split and buttered, bacon piled high, eggs soft and fluffy like clouds. The way his voice had curled low when he talked, like he wasn’t just speaking, but pulling you in. His body vibrated with the run, with the ache, with the pull that had dragged him all this way. “I wanna feel your skin again,” Blake whispered, voice fraying at the edges. It was where the whole town ended up sooner or later: old ranchers nursing beers, young bucks showing off in boots too new to be earned, and everybody in between. And Blake. Blake would be there. Definitely. “I ain’t much in the mood for a crowd tonight,” Jackson said, rubbing the back of his neck.Daisy raised a brow.
