Don't Go by L.J. Breedlove (series like harry potter txt) 📕

But Cage was there, and made him report, and then go back and write. And over the course of a week, Cage had made him into a videographer and a reporter. His work was good, he thought. People said it was. Even Emily, who was both easy to like and intimidating, said he had a future in this.

He wasn’t sure about that now. Wasn’t sure he had a future or wanted one. But if Carroll could press on after the assault and the subsequent stalking, he guessed he could survive too. He shook his head slightly to clear it and focus on what was happening now. The real, as Carroll called it.

Cage was introducing Carroll to his father, and they nodded to each other politely as people did now instead of shaking hands. It seemed so mundane an act. J.J. realized he put Carroll in a larger-than-life category. And he shouldn’t. Carroll would be the first to tell him so.

Carroll turned to J.J. “Glad to see you leaving this joint,” Carroll said with a grin. “Has Cage got you on rotation to cover the protests yet?”

He smiled and shook his head. “Not sure if they’ll even let me back,” he admitted. He hadn’t really meant to get into that here, but Carroll had the knack of getting to the heart of things, he’d found.

“Actually, you are on the schedule to work tomorrow afternoon,” Cage said, surprising him. “Emily’s got some assignments for you, if you’re ready. On-campus stuff, I’m afraid, though.”

“Really?” J.J. thought about that, realized he was happy about the on-campus label. He looked at Rev. Washington. “Can I?”

Rev. Washington looked startled. “I’m not your keeper, J.J.,” he said. “You make that call. But I think it sounds good. What about your classes? You want to go back to them too?”

J.J. thought about it. “Yeah. I think I can do that,” he said slowly, listening for any warning of panic as Dr. Clarke had suggested he do. Classes didn’t panic him, he found. Instincts were giving a green light. “Maybe the newsroom tomorrow? I can do my history class in morning?”

“I’ll let Emily know to expect you later today then,” Cage said. “Watch your email. She may send you the assignment ahead of time.”

Cage looked at his watch. “Speaking of classes, I’ve got to get Sarah on campus for her 1 p.m. class. And I’ve got one at 2 p.m. before getting over to the newsroom myself.” He hugged his dad. Then he hesitated, but hugged J.J. too, an awkward one-arm hug. It startled J.J., and he didn’t know quite what to do.

“I’m coming out for supper,” Cage told him. “I’ll see you then.”

Sarah held her arms up, and J.J. bent down to hug her. He was getting to like these hugs, he thought. Sarah had called or come by every day. And she always hugged.

“I get one too,” Carroll said, taking his arm. J.J. laughed and hugged them. “I’ll come by tomorrow to the newsroom and see you,” Carroll promised.

And then it was just him and the Rev. Washington.

“Come on, son,” Rev. Washington said gently. J.J. found his instincts were OK with the word ‘son’ when it came from this man. He shied away from thinking about his own family though. He already knew that would trigger panic. And he so didn’t want to have a panic attack on the steps of the psych clinic.

“Let’s get you home, you’ve got people to meet,” the Reverend was saying as they walked toward his car. “They told you about Ryan and his son? And my wife, of course. And if that doesn’t wear you out, you’re a better man than I am!”

J.J. laughed. Ryan Matthews had a son. Wow. And he followed the Reverend to his car.

Chapter 7

4 p.m. Wednesday, Newsroom — Lam Deng had staked claim to the big editing computer and was laying out Folio when Cage pushed Sarah up to the station she’d claimed as her own. She called up her editing queue. Cage started to leave, gathering up his video equipment and the safety equipment bag that he’d made up and required for anyone going to cover the protests. A stab vest that said PRESS in large letters, gas mask, a cap that said Eyewitness News, gloves. He wasn’t sure if it did any good, or it if it just put a bullseye on him and his staff. But he still made it mandatory to carry and wear.

“Hey Cage?” Sarah said softly, before he left. He crouched down next to her. “Have you talked to your father about all the people who are descending upon them?”

Cage frowned. “Like what?”

Sarah rolled her eyes, in the way women did when men were being obtuse. Cage considered her question a moment. “Well, he knows Ryan is a womanizer, as he calls it, and that he used to have a problem with drugs and booze but doesn’t anymore. What else? Obviously, he knows about J.J.,” he said slowly.

She did the eye roll thing again, and yes, that half-smile was definitely a smirk. “He thinks you and I might be a couple,” she informed him. “And he’s bound to be deeply puzzled by Carroll. And this is day one.”

“Oh,” Cage said blankly. Sarah and he weren’t a couple; she was gay. They might be both attracted to the same woman, even. And he wasn’t ever going to try to explain that to his father, much less tackle Carroll. “No, I’m not going to try and explain anything to my Dad,” he said, with a snort. “Are you kidding? He may be this kindly old man to you, but he still preaches hellfire and brimstone from the pulpit on Sundays.”

“He does not,” Emily said in disapproving tones, without looking away from the story she was editing. “I’ve heard him. He preaches brotherhood.”

“You’ve heard my father preach?” Cage asked. “When?”

She shrugged. “When you first introduced me to them. What four years ago? I went there for Christmas services. You were not there,” she