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Once back at Opie's place, she cleaned up his nose and sewed a couple of stitches into the wound on his rib cage. They settled into the couch in the living room afterwards, both of them exhausted.
"You can't just let things be calm for one minute, can you?" he asked, and she shook her head, twirling a piece of his hair around one of her fingers.
"It's not about calm. It's about us being sure about what we're doing," she said, and Opie silenced her with a kiss. She leaned into him momentarily, but then backed off and shook her head.
"Ope..." she trailed off, and he rolled his eyes.
"Fine. Let's talk," he said defeatedly, and she took a deep breath.
"We can't-," she started, but he cut her off.
"Don't. Don't tell me we can't. You've been telling me we can't for ten years and I'm tired of it. There's absolutely no reason we can't other than the fact that you're scared, Jameson," he said, much more passion in his tone than she would've expected. Opie rarely got noticeably worked up about anything, and it took her a second to be able to respond to him.
"What do you want me to say? Do you want me to admit I'm scared? Because of course I'm fucking scared, Opie," she said, annoyed.
"Why? Huh? Why are you so scared, Jameson?" he asked, sitting up straighter. He was angry, like full on angry, and it just made her more mad right back. She clenched her fists, shaking her head.
"You know why I'm scared, Opie," she told him, gritting her teeth. He shook his head.
"No, I fuckin' don't. I don't. All I know is you always say it's because of the club, which is bullshit. It ain't about the club and you know it," he said, and she stood, unable to keep herself seated. He stayed where he was, watching her.
"Just what do you think it's about then?" she asked, and he shrugged.
"You're scared to death of being in love. You're fuckin' scared to death of letting yourself be happy. We've been head over heels in love with each other since we were kids, and there's always been some sort of excuse. There's always something stopping you from letting me in. I don't know whether it's because you think don't deserve it or because you're just too fucking scared to give it a chance, but I'm goddamn tired of it," he ranted, and she raised an eyebrow at him. He looked at her like he knew exactly what she was about to do and it pissed her off even more that he was probably right.
She stormed into the other room, pulled her boots and cut on, and then stormed back into the living room to grab her keys off the coffee table. With a final look at him, she threw the front door open and then slammed it shut behind her. She got on her bike and thundered down the street, not sure where she was going.
She drove around for a long time on autopilot, completely aware of her phone vibrating in her pocket a couple of times as she went. She ignored it, of course, and when she finally stopped the bike, she was genuinely sort of shocked she'd ended up in her mom and Clay's driveway.
She pulled out her phone and looked at it; two of the missed calls were Opie and two were Jax. Before she could even decide whether or not she was going to call either of them back, the porch light came on and Gemma stepped outside.
"Jameson? What's wrong?" Gemma asked, and Jameson thought about it for a long moment as she got off her bike and took off her helmet.
"Do you want the short list or the long list?" she asked, and her mother smirked at her in a way she hadn't in a long time.
"Come in, baby. Have some tea," she said, and Jameson did as she asked, stepping through the doorway and into the house.
An hour later, she'd told Gemma everything. Everything about what had happened that day; how Isaac had taken Opie and Jax and then the club had presumably killed him, how she and Opie had finally admitted they loved each other, how she didn't know why she was so scared of loving him, how he'd been so angry that she couldn't seem to figure her shit out, and how she was worried she was letting him slip through her fingers just like Gemma'd told her not to. Gemma listened quietly, nodding and sipping her tea. When Jameson finished speaking, Gemma seemed to think for a few moments and then shook her head.
"Kid, you're being a fucking idiot," she said, surprising Jameson. She raised a brow at her mother and Gemma shook her head. "You need to stop letting your head get in the way of your heart on this one, Jameson. You say you don't know why you're so scared of loving him, but you're not. You're scared of letting yourself be happy. You're scared that if you relax for even a second, some big existential threat is going to come in and wipe away your happiness, and it just isn't. Opie is tough. He can handle anything life throws at him and you know it. He loves you. You think he doesn't know that that could potentially put him at risk? He does. But he doesn't care because you mean more to him than anything," Gemma said, her words sounding a lot like Opie's just a few hours before.
Jameson looked at her mom quietly, not sure what to say. She was right. Of course she was, she and Opie both were. She was scared of letting herself be happy. She was scared of things falling apart just as soon as they got good. She gulped down the rest of her tea and then stood to give her mom a hug.
"Thanks," she whispered, and Gemma nodded.
"Go get him," she said, and Jameson nodded right back.
