Jason was seriously quiet and if his hand wasn’t on the small of my back, giving me thrills, I wouldn’t have known he followed me at all. The down-home smell of a roast in the crock pot greeted us in the kitchen, as did Dad and three of his favorite guns. He had them laid out on the kitchen table along with all his cleaning supplies. I rolled my eyes. Mom came in with an arm load of grocery bags. “Let me get those for you,” Jason said as he took the bags from Mom. “Thank you, Jason.” She harrumphed in Dad’s direction. “Alyssa, could you help me make a salad?” “Sure.” I washed my hands in the kitchen sink. Jason leaned in next to me to scrub his. “T.C.S.,” he said in my ear. “G.L.B.,” I said back. “G.L.B?” “Good luck, Buck-o.” He gave me a half smile before approaching my dad.
