Or maybe it's because, as Tara says, "We don't know who we are until we're connected to someone else." She steps toward him and grabs his cut, saying, "We're just better human beings when we're with the person we're supposed to be with. I wasn't supposed to leave. I belong here." Jax wipes away her tears and grabs her. So ... they're back on?
Tig and Gemma have been traveling under cover of darkness, and they finally arrive where they're supposed to be. Tig says uneasily, "Gem, maybe we should have called first." Gemma says resignedly, "He never answers the phone. That was her job. Come on." She stalks up the front walk to a nice-looking ranch house and rings the bell. The Latina caretaker who answers takes in Gemma and Tig and asks, "Can I help you?" Behind her, an old man's voice querulously insists, "If it's those colored boys again, you can tell them we don't need any more magazines!" Gemma sighs and says, "Tell the reverend I'm not here to sell him any magazines. I'm his daughter."
Emilia the caregiver lets them in, and Gemma and Tig make their introductions. Emilia's been there for about six months, hired by Gemma's (late) mother when her father became too much to deal with on her own. Gemma says, "I didn't know he got that bad. How's he doing?" Emilia replies, "It depends. Some days, he's sharper than me. Others, he barely knows where he is." And he is not aware his wife died -- "trauma like that, it usually sends him deeper into the dementia. It's probably for the best." Gemma's clearly steeling herself to go in. Tig catches this and asks Emilia if there's someplace he can wash up. All of you, start the betting pool on how long before Tig is giving the caregiver the full Tig Trager experience. No doubt he sees it as a two-birds-one-stone scenario: he can give Gemma some privacy with her dad, and he can lay the groundwork for the inevitable naked time with Emilia.