Tara hadn't touched him but the way that Jax stood there, bowled over and confused, she may as well have slapped him across the face. This wasn't her fear at the door that first night; this was an anger he couldn't ever remember Tara directing at him. That and the information she'd unloaded to him. Shock hit him like a truck and he couldn't even begin the formulate questions.
Clay. His mind and heart settled on that old wound. He'd closed it up for Gemma, for his mom's sake, but he remembered why he'd wanted to leave. Clay, who wanted to get rich at the expense of his father's dreams. Clay, who'd turned the club into an armed gang and driven them deeper and deeper into the arms of the Irish until they had KG-9's pressed up to their backs.
Clay. Who'd tried to kill his old lady
Tara. Who looked at him now with something close to hate.
"Jesus," he said, rubbing his forehead and dragging hands up into his hair. "Jesus fuckin' Christ..."
Every question meant diving further down that rabbit hole. If he asked why Clay had wanted her dead, he'd probably end up with more questions, end up with more of the dark truths that Tara had to bear up all by herself.
no subject
Clay. His mind and heart settled on that old wound. He'd closed it up for Gemma, for his mom's sake, but he remembered why he'd wanted to leave. Clay, who wanted to get rich at the expense of his father's dreams. Clay, who'd turned the club into an armed gang and driven them deeper and deeper into the arms of the Irish until they had KG-9's pressed up to their backs.
Clay. Who'd tried to kill his old lady
Tara. Who looked at him now with something close to hate.
"Jesus," he said, rubbing his forehead and dragging hands up into his hair. "Jesus fuckin' Christ..."
Every question meant diving further down that rabbit hole. If he asked why Clay had wanted her dead, he'd probably end up with more questions, end up with more of the dark truths that Tara had to bear up all by herself.
What could he even say?