Chapter 14 #2
Chaos trotted after me, and I closed the door. I leaned against it for a moment and then walked down the stairs to wait for my sister. Merci perched on a barstool. She slid a can of Red Bull across the bar, something I’d gotten a taste for on her lips.
“Tough night. Thought maybe you could use a friend right now.”
I eyed her warily. Friend. Right.
“Kenna told me what happened. I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks,” I gruffed, sliding onto the barstool next to her. Chaos nudged my leg, tail thumping.
“About yesterday—” Merci started, but stopped as Jessa’s footsteps echoed faintly down the stairs.
I straightened, rubbing the back of my neck. Last night’s rage had cooled into steely resolve. As much as I wanted to talk to Merci, my top priority was my sister. She wasn’t slipping through the cracks anymore. Not on my watch.
Jessa shuffled in, tugging at the hem of the borrowed T-shirt. She wouldn’t meet my gaze.
“Sit,” I said, patting the stool beside me.
“I’ll give you two a minute.” Merci slipped away to the pinball machines. Chaos trailed behind her.
“Look, kid, about last night,” I started. “I lost my shit because I care. You’re fifteen. That warehouse? Serious shit happens in places like that. Shit I don’t want to happen to you. You hear me?”
“I said I was sorry,” she mumbled
“Yeah, you did. And I believe you.” I leaned forward, elbows on the bar.
I sighed, trying to think about how to be a parental figure. I thought about Thane and Reaper, how they had firm boundaries but open doors with every Maverick. It was as close to parenting as I’d received.
“Clearly your mom isn’t in any capacity to make sure you stay safe. So, I want you with me from now on. I’ve already reached out to a lawyer to make it official.”
Her head snapped up. Hope flickered under the hurt. “You still want me to live with you?”
“Damn right.” I held her gaze. “But there are rules. Non-fucking-negotiables. No sneaking out. I want you to join a club or whatever interests you for the summer, at least until school starts. You didn’t get a childhood, but now you do.”
Jessa nodded.
I continued. “Curfew’s eight on weeknights, nine on weekends. No boys in your room. No booze, no drugs. And I’m tracking that phone. Not because I don’t trust you. Because I don’t want you getting hurt, arrested, or knocked up before you’ve had a chance to really start living your life.”
Jessa blinked fast, tears threatening to spill onto her cheeks. “OK,” she said meekly.
I stood and pulled her into a quick, awkward hug. “You’re my blood. We’re family. I’ll take you to your mom’s trailer to pack your shit. Eva said we can move in today.”
“I have to work later,” Jessa said, frowning.
I shook my head. “Quit your job. I’ll give you a weekly allowance. You don’t need to be working at fucking fifteen.”
She swiped at her eyes. “OK. But you still need to see Mom. We need to tell her. They moved her into a nursing home last week.”
My jaw tightened. “You’ve been home alone all week? Why didn’t you tell me?” Guilt coursed through me as I realized I’d been wrapped around Merci while my sister had been by herself.
She shrugged. “I’ve been bouncing around different friends’ houses. I don’t like to stay in the trailer alone.”
“We’ll see your mom today. Fuck. Our mom. But first, let’s eat. How do you feel about breakfast tacos?”
Jessa’s face lit up.
“You’ve got ten minutes before we leave. Go wash that makeup off and brush your teeth. There are extra brushes in the drawer.”
She bolted upstairs to the suite, Chaos nipping at her heels with excited yips.
Merci sidled beside me at the bar and stole a sip of my Red Bull. “I like the ‘tough love’ and ‘disappointed dad’ vibes. You’re doing a good thing. Stepping up to take her in. The girl needs it.”
I grunted. “Yeah, well, I’d do anything for the kid. Including going to see our mother. It’s the last fucking thing I want.”
Merci offered a soft smile. “But you’ll do it. For her.”
Jessa bounded down the stairs, her eyes brighter than they’d been before. “Are you coming with us?” she asked Merci.
Before Merci could respond, I answered for her. “Yep, Merci can’t say no to breakfast tacos.”
And maybe I’d find the courage to tell her how I really felt. How I couldn’t sleep without her. How my chest ached since she’d ended things.
“Are you sure?” she asked, biting her lip.
I grinned. “I’m sure. Plus, we need a friend with a truck to move whatever Jessa wants to my new house.”
“Why do I feel like I just got roped into free labor?” Merci asked.
“I’m paying you in tacos. Besides, you owe me. I helped you move.”
Merci grumbled. “Fine. I bet this move won’t be nearly as entertaining as mine, though.”
“What happened with yours?” Jessa asked, her curiosity piqued.
I grimaced. “Let’s not give the feisty teenager any bad ideas. But, it’s a good thing Merci didn’t have a security deposit.”
After breakfast, Jessa gave me an address.
We pulled up to the ramshackle hospice house—a sagging, state-run dump with peeling green paint and weeds clawing through cracked asphalt.
Our mother had never held a real job long enough to save a dime.
This was her endgame, courtesy of the county and Medicaid.
“I’ll wait out here,” Merci said, killing the truck’s engine.
I grunted thanks, slinging a protective arm around Jessa’s shoulders. The air inside reeked of bleach and despair, and the fluorescent lighting buzzed over distant coughs. A harried nurse insisted we sign in before heading to her room.
Our mother looked like a ghost. Yellowed skin stretched over bones, and an oxygen tube snaked under her nose. Her sunken eyes landed on me.
“Jonah,” she wheezed.
“He goes by Hatchet now,” Jessa reminded her, sitting in the stained chair beside the bed.
“Hatchet,” she whispered.
“Yeah. That’s me.” My words came out flat. I crossed my arms tight over my cut.
She licked her cracked lips, glancing again at Jessa before locking onto me. “I’m sorry. For everything. Thought you’d get a better shot with someone else.”
Fury clawed my throat, but I swallowed it down. “Water under the bridge.” The lie hurt. She’d ditched me without a backward glance, only circling back now because death loomed over her like a dark shadow.
“Jessa’s moving in with me,” I said, my voice razor-sharp. “I want full custody. I’m getting a lawyer to make it official.”
Our mom nodded weakly. “Good. That’s why I messaged you. Wanted to ask before … before I couldn’t. She needs family.”
“She has one now,” I clipped. “We done?”
Our mom wiped a tear from her cheek, and the liver spots on her hand caught my eye.
I glanced at Jessa. “Stay as long as you want, kid. I’ll be outside.” I turned on my heel, boots echoing down the hall as I made my retreat.
Merci leaned against the truck in the parking lot. She eyed me as I paced the asphalt, fists jammed in my pockets. “You good?”
I grunted in response. The words I’d wanted to say stuck like gravel in my throat.
After ten minutes, the door banged open. Jessa emerged, her eyes red-rimmed and cheeks streaked, but her chin was up.
“Let’s go pack up my shit,” she murmured, climbing into the truck’s back seat without another word. I considered telling her she shouldn’t swear, but bad language was the least of my worries.
I remembered my way to the trailer park. As we pulled beside it, I shot Merci a look that I hoped said “don’t judge” as she stared at the sagging single-wide.
Jessa pushed the door open. “The lock broke a while back, and we never replaced it,” she explained. “Not like there’s anything here to steal.”
I flexed my jaw as I considered how unsafe she’d been here. A teenage girl without a way to keep a fucking predator from waltzing into her bedroom at night. I’d fucking burn this place to the ground if she’d let me.
We stepped inside, and hot, stale air thick with mildew hit us in waves.
My gut twisted as I looked around. A haphazardly boarded window gaped at the end of the hall.
The faucet in the tiny kitchen dripped, the plinks into the empty sink echoing across the room.
I schooled my face into a neutral expression as Jessa pulled a few trash bags from under the sink.
She moved quickly to her room, stuffing bags with worn, threadbare clothes.
She tossed in a photo album and a tattered stuffed rabbit.
She glanced around the room and shrugged, like she couldn’t find anything else worth saving, before pulling a crate from the closet.
It was stacked with books. She pushed it into my arms.
“This is it,” she said flatly, scanning the mess. “I don’t want anything else.”
I nodded, hefting the box while Merci grabbed a bag. As we passed through the living room, Jessa paused by a cluttered shelf. She palmed a tiny whale-shaped crystal figurine and slipped it into her pocket. I looked away, giving her that one small thing she didn’t have to explain.