“You killed him, didn’t you?”
Declan didn't answer. A few minutes later, Jared tried again. "At least tell us where we’re going.”
Nothing.
Jared sighed, looking over to check on Rae. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wet and swollen. She stared resolutely out the window, her body turned away from Declan. Jared reached over to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but he doubted the touch even registered through her veil of anger.
After several tense moments, Declan finally responded. "Somewhere we haven't been in a very long time." An uneasy feeling settled over Jared. He rubbed his naked left wrist, his bracelet left behind along with his home. His chest tightened at the eerily calm tone of Declan's voice, one that hinted that nothing would ever be the same again.
CHAPTER TWO
One rest stop and two fill-ups later, Declan drove up a winding gravel driveway, a skinny cement footpath running the length of it to the right. It hadn't escaped Jared's notice that Declan stuck mainly to back country roads during the drive, and as a result Jared now had no idea where they were. He didn't recognize the small cottage house in front of them, nor the thick woods that surrounded it, but his innate trust in Declan kept him from voicing any concerns.
Declan pulled to a stop and got out, grabbing his duffle from the truck bed. Following suit, Jared grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, casting a wary glance at the open front door and the giant, scruffy man that stood in front of it.
Jared watched as Rae barely bit back a remark when Declan thrust her duffle into her hands, and it took all his remaining strength not to draw into himself, to shut out the world and hide from what had just happened.
Declan traversed the grassy front walk of the cottage that was clearly familiar to him, and not for the first time did Jared wonder just what their life had been like before he had become part of the Cooper family. Out of nervous habit Jared hung back, hovering slightly behind Rae as she followed grumpily in her brother's footsteps. He kept his head down, counting his steps to keep his focus so that his building nerves wouldn’t explode into a full blown panic attack.
"Declan," A gruff voice sounded from the front door in solemn greeting. Jared lifted his head and shook his chestnut bangs out of his face to get a better look at their host.
"Gideon." Declan returned. Jared watched as the man wrapped a beefy hand around Declan's neck and pulled him close. "I got your message. I take it there ain’t no mess to clean up?”
Declan shook his head. “I left a detonator. The Agents will find only a pile of rubble.” Rae let out an anguished cry, shoving Declan aside to storm into the house.
Gideon caught her in his burly embrace. “It’s alright, honey. Gonna be alright.”
Jared swallowed against the lump in his throat, his fist tightening around the handles of his duffel where it was slung over his shoulder. He watched this man, Gideon, hug Rae the same way he had Declan, though Rae was much more hesitant to leave his embrace. If it hadn't been for watching Rae completely fall apart into the man's barrel chest, Jared would have retreated immediately. He didn't do very well with new places, or new people, and Declan's hand on his back was the one thing keeping him grounded.
"Inside, all of you," Gideon ordered, though his soft embrace of Rae belied his gruff tone. "It's colder than the devil's soul out here."
Jared hesitated, but Declan was right there, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay, Jare. He's okay."
Jared had no choice but to trust his brother, and followed him inside.
When they were all settled inside, Gideon held a tumbler in front of Jared's face. "You sure you don't want a bourbon, son?"
Jared pulled back, sinking down into the worn leather couch cushions. "No, thank you."
"Jared ain't much of a liquor drinker." Declan held out his glass. "I'll take his share." Declan slammed back his refill faster than he had the first.
Gideon raised his glass. "To each their own choices. Glad to see a rescue that has some confidence.” Jared flinched at the reference, and cursed Rae for going to bed early. Declan was now his only ally in this strange house, and his only ally was now well on his way to getting wasted.
Confidence, yeah right. Jared shrank back even farther, and wished he could just close his eyes and zap himself somewhere else. He jumped when someone gripped his knee, but calmed when he opened his eyes to see that it was Declan, settling in next to him, third shot in hand. "Jared Cooper, meet Gideon Hatch." Declan raised his glass in a toast. "Our ill-tempered, foul-mouthed fairy godmother."
Jared couldn't bring himself to meet Gideon’s eyes, and instead clenched white knuckles around Declan's hand, holding on tight.
CHAPTER THREE
Jared woke up a bit fuzzy the next morning, even though he had forgone even one sip of the multiple bourbons that Declan consumed the night before. His unruly hair scraped noisily against the fabric of the unfamiliar pillow beneath his head as he turned towards the nightstand to palm his phone. Seven fifteen. The quiet emanating from the rest of the house told Jared he must be the first one awake, and the solace helped to calm him.
Until he remembered the events from the day before.
Jared swallowed against the lump in his throat and threw the covers off his body. Leaving behind the unfamiliar bed in Gideon's guest room, Jared traded his pajamas for a sweatshirt and track pants and donned his sneakers. Softly making his way downstairs, he opened Gideon's heavy wooden front door and stepped out into the late spring chill.
Shiny dew drops coated the grass, glistening in the early morning sun as Jared pumped his legs in place in the front yard to get his blood flowing. He set off down the narrow walkway lining the long drive at an easy pace, and when he reached the end he tore off onto one of the paths leading through the surrounding woods. He took a quick glance around, instantly memorizing certain markers and trees so he could easily find his way back to Gideon's unmarked, unpaved drive. Taking a deep inhale of the crisp morning air that woke him quicker than any cup of coffee could have, Jared set out on his run.
The warmth of the sun on his skin in contrast to the cool air flowing in and out of his lungs kept Jared in the present moment, and the rhythmic slap of his feet against the dirt helped him keep time. In thirty yards he could feel his heart rate start to rise, and in sixty Jared's lungs had adjusted to his steady pace, rising and expanding with every stride. The morning air hurt his dry throat, and Jared relished the feeling, letting the rawness serve as a reminder that he was here, he was alive. He had survived William tying him to that chair, threatening to touch him, to kill him, and he and Rae had gotten out.
And then Declan had killed the man that had killed their father.
Jared wouldn't even be here, he wouldn't be a Cooper, if it hadn't been for Johnathan. He'd still be living on the streets as a nobody, shut out from the world around him because of the stain he’d had since birth. If Johnathan hadn't coaxed him out of that crate and off the streets all those years ago, Jared would still be wandering the world alone, hiding from Agents and scraping by on whatever he could find.
Johnathan Cooper had given Jared a family. Rae and Declan had accepted him as one of their own just as easily, and now Jared couldn't imagine a life without them. He knew lots of rescues weren't so lucky, that they would spend their lives never knowing what is was liked to be safe, to be accepted. To be loved. Jared kicked himself for becoming so complacent in that loving way of life, within the home that Johnathan had given him. His eyes prickled with burning, unshed tears.
Jared forced himself to jog faster, because maybe if he pushed his body hard enough, Jared could outrun those long dormant voices that were once again telling him that he had never deserved that feeling of home in the first place.
When he returned to the house an hour later, Jared found Gideon in the kitchen, brewing a large pot of coffee. When he had been the only one awake, Jared had moved throughout the house with a rare confidence. But now that the owner of
said house was up and about, making coffee in his own kitchen, Jared's nerves around the unfamiliar were back in full force.
“Come on in, son. No use standin’ in the doorway, lettin’ all the warm out.” Something in Gideon's gruff voice pulled Jared towards the kitchen, and he quickly shed his sweatshirt and sneakers before accepting the mug of steaming black coffee that Gideon held out.
Jared pressed his back against the kitchen wall, trying to make himself smaller than his normal six feet. Normally when he wasn't sure what to say or do, he had Rae or Declan to speak for him, but here alone in the kitchen with Gideon he didn't have that choice.
Gideon pulled out two mixing bowls from the cabinet under the stove and pulled some dry ingredients from the pantry. From the fridge he took out buttermilk, eggs, and some fruit. “Declan always did love my blueberry pancakes.” He set a griddle on top of the stove and drizzled its smooth black surface with cooking oil, setting the burners to heat while he mixed the batter. “Rae though, she'll want chocolate chips.” Gideon gestured with his chin towards the cupboard next to the vent over the stove, a silent instruction for Jared to grab the chocolate morsels. Jared reluctantly grabbed the bag of chocolate chips, setting them on the counter while nervously keeping his eyes on Gideon Hatch.
Gideon measured flour and salt into a bowl, the tiny measuring cups looking silly in his large hands, and eyed Jared. “Go on then, put down your mug and make yourself useful. You can crack eggs, can't ya?”
Jared did as he was instructed, standing on the opposite side of the table as he mixed together eggs and oil.
“Now pour that in here and give it a stir while I check the bacon.”
Jared stirred the batter absently with one hand, while watching this bear of a man flip greasy bacon on the stove. “Who are you?”
Gideon moved about his kitchen smoothly and efficiently. “Come on, son. I'm your-“
“I'm not your son,” Jared interrupted. “And if you tell me you're my fairy godmother, I'll take the truck keys and leave right now.”
Gideon shrugged casually, and his lack of reaction infuriated Jared. “Won't do you much good. Declan would be on your ass in a minute.”
“Declan's passed out upstairs.” Though Jared knew his brother would be up and raring to go if he heard the roar of the Bronco, as if he hadn't even touched a drop of booze. On a good day, anyway. The day after killing the man that had killed their father, well. Jared figured that might change things.
Jared inhaled sharply, fighting back a sob. It had changed everything.
It had been a long time since he had been on the run.
Jared plunked down the bowl of finished batter next to Gideon's elbow. “Who are you?”
Gideon sighed and laid down the tongs he was using to flip the bacon. He turned to Jared and crossed his arms. “I'm the man who’s keepin’ you safe, now that your daddy's gone.” Jared flinched at the flippant reminder of his greatest loss. “I imagine Declan has been doing a right fine job of it the last two years, but after yesterday he’ll need protection just as much as anyone.”
Jared studied the man in front of him. The fabric of Gideon’s plaid flannel pulled tight across his massive shoulders, but it wasn't Gideon’s size that intimated Jared so much as his commanding presence that seemed to suck all the air out of the rest of the room. Jared wasn't sure he trusted Gideon, despite Declan and Rae’s familiarity with the man, but he could at least tell this man wasn’t anything close to an Agent. “You know that my dad was a tracker for the Renegades.”
“Taught him everything he knows.” Gideon grabbed a ladle and started scooping pancake batter onto the griddle. “Sprinkle some of those berries on these for me, would you?”
Jared once again found himself automatically obeying Gideon's orders. “You’ve known Declan and Rae since they were kids, but I've never met you. Yet you don't seem surprised to see me.”
“Just ‘cause you don't remember don't mean we never met,” Gideon said easily. He flipped the pancakes, then turned to Jared. Gideon’s leaned stance against the counter was casual, though his gaze was anything but. He pinned Jared with a serious glare. “Your world is about to change, son.” He tipped his bearded chin upwards, indicating the upstairs. “So is theirs.”
Jared spoke through clenched teeth. “Yeah. Got that.” Jared covered his scarred wrist with the opposite hand, rubbing it in nervous, jerky movements. He didn't need this man to tell him that his world had just been shattered. Knowing their home had gone up in flames along with his dad’s killer had Jared feeling the loss of Johnathan all over again. It was like an actual flesh wound, slowly bleeding him dry of any feeling, leaving him with only pain and agony in its wake.
Gideon shook his head slowly as he layered the perfectly circular pancakes onto a platter, started another batch to cook. “No. No, I’m afraid you don't.”
Jared bristled. “Look, I get that you are a friend of the family, and that when my dad...” Jared faltered. “Don’t you dare tell me that my ‘world is about to change’, like it’s some major revelation.” His hands clenched into fists. “You weren't the one driving away from his ticking time bomb of a house, suddenly homeless again with a murderer for a brother. You aren’t the one desperate for answers to questions that until yesterday I didn't even realize needed to be asked.” Jared’s voice was rising, and tears had started streaming down his face, but he didn't care. “You didn't drive away from the only piece I had left of my dad, away from his killer, away from any hope I ever had of living a normal life!” Jared was screaming now, but Gideon only watched, listening as Jared spilled his anger onto this man that he barely knew. His chest rose and fell, breaths heaving in and out of his lungs harder than they had after his hour long run.
Jared bit his lip and fought the urge to shrink in on himself, feeling empty and vulnerable after his outburst. He was given a moment to compose himself, and when Gideon Hatch looked back up at him, it was with eyes full of both sorrow and compassion. “No. No, you’re right, I didn't.”
Jared only flinched a little when Gideon pressed a hand to his shoulder to gently guide him down onto one of the kitchen chairs. He set a plate with two buttered blueberry pancakes in front of him, gently nudging a fork into Jared's hand. “But I knew Johnathan Cooper longer than you’ve held his last name.” Gideon's voice held no rancor, only truth. “He was one hell of a fighter, and you’re living proof that the man had a heart as big as the moon. And I’ve known Declan and Rae since before they were even crawlin’.” He shook his head. “A major Agent death like the one yesterday was inevitable; Declan’s actions merely sped up the timeline.” Gideon gave Jared’s shoulder a squeeze. “Your world is about to change, son. And you’re right; you probably will never, ever again have a normal life. But not for the reasons you think. Your daddy had one hell of an important job, and you’ve all chosen to follow in his footsteps.”
Moisture threatened in the corners of Jared’s eyes again, and again he blinked it away. “Rae and Declan have, maybe.” Jared scoffed at himself. “I just work at a rescue shelter.” Rae did too, but she was much more of a Renegade liaison than he. “Dad was too scared I’d get caught if I worked with him against Agents.” He didn’t admit to having the same fear, but Jared felt the older man’s gaze seeing right through him.
Gideon took a seat across from Jared, lumbering his large frame onto one of the simple wooden chairs. “This world is a dangerous place for rescues like you, but you don’t need to be scared here.You’ll always have a place in my home, rescue or not.” He pushed the maple syrup across the table and leaned forward. “You’re a Cooper, and that makes you family.”
CHAPTER FOUR
They remained in a sort of empty limbo for the next several days, not quite knowing what their next move should be amidst their displacement. Jared would get up before everyone else in the morning and run, sometimes down the winding asphalt road that led away from Gideon’s property and sometimes along the trails hidden back in the woods. He wore a
new path in the dirt trails around Hidden Lake, letting the early summer sunshine lighten his hair and warm his skin.
Then he’d follow Declan into the woods in the afternoon, and dig his fingers into the frail, fibrous wood of the old stump that was his perch as he watched his brother shoot all his feelings into a bunch of lumpy sandbags that someone, Gideon, he figured, switched out every few days to handle another hundred rounds of Declan’s anger. They never talked, but Jared had always had a hard time being apart from Declan for too long, ever since the day he’d been rescued. Jared felt like he was ten years old again and Declan was teaching him how to swim, a strong, solid presence in the midst of an unstable ocean.
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