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Summary
The word hung in the air for a beat too long. Lazy.
J.J. had meant it as a joke. Shane knew he had. Knew that lazy was just another throwaway chirp in a long afternoon of throwaway chirps—harmless, familiar, the kind of shit-talking that had defined their friendship for eleven years.
But Shane couldn't breathe.
"Come on, you know I'm just messing around," J.J. had added, still laughing, already moving on. Hayden had snorted into his beer.
And something in Shane's chest had cracked clean open.
Lazy.OR: Shane finally looses it on JJ