Chapter 19
Tank – Two Weeks Later
I lean my head back against the wall as I dangle my arms over my bent knees and watch as Jasmine sleeps, her chest slowly moving, and guilt, so fucking much guilt, consumes me.
“I won’t fucking repeat myself, you are not leaving, I’ve already locked all the doors and windows, and the fact you are willing to leave your own child proves you certainly are not the woman I fucking thought you were all those years ago; it makes you a selfish bitch!”
I flinch involuntary of the memory, my words from two weeks ago loop in my mind and make me sick.
I didn’t mean them, I really fucking didn’t but my anger took over when I saw just how much she’s seen how much she’s struggled alone.
Seeing the defeat and pain written on her face, I could feel my frustration building, already predicting she was about to say something that would set me off.
I knew she was going to try to leave Aisling here and head back to Huntingdon, thinking she’d be better off with me, even though Dad came here and she thought Mama was behind him.
I panicked, hoping my words would keep her here but of course the words came out harsh and heartbreaking and now, after two fucking weeks of silence, I’m at a loss at what to do.
I haven’t truly been pissed at her for leaving or breaking my heart. I’m too busy trying to make her stay but she still says things that trigger my anger, like joking with my dad about my stubbornness setting me off.
“My son loves to be a stubborn idiot sometimes, he always has been, especially when he was a kid,” my dad jokes as he makes himself a coffee like he owns the place, and I roll my eyes.
More like I didn’t want to crash his bike at the age of fucking ten into the club building, which I ended up doing after I gave in.
“Before we got together, he was adamant I was going to be his, even followed me to the cafe like some little stalker, and I knew he was going to be stubborn,” Jas reminisces with a wistful smile on her face, and I fuck, anger seers through me.
She took her from me, she left me feeling a-fucking-lone.
“Well, guess you can expect me to be stubborn enough not to forgive you for taking my daughter from me, huh, Jasmine?” I snap, unable to keep my anger at bay, the six years she ensured we lost of each other, of being happy, fuck, of even being married and having more kids flash before me, and she flinches and quickly looks away, and I tense my jaw as Dad winces because of course regret comes in.
Fuck.
I was a dick. I acted out of pain and frustration—not because I wanted to push her away.
I didn’t mean to be mean, I just—fuck—we haven’t hashed everything out yet. We tiptoe around each other, acting polite for Aisling's sake when she’s around otherwise ignoring each other. I’m still hurting—I think I will be for a while—and I don’t know how not to take that resentment out on her.
I didn’t just miss time with my daughter, I missed time with her.
She’s been back in my life for five weeks and in our home, because no matter what she thinks, it’s always been her home for two weeks.
The doors stay locked, Dad stays over when I’m working, and things are hard.
The pain of what she did, not trusting me, is overwhelming and fuck, I can’t get over that she planned to leave without our daughter, thinking she could just come back and take her later without hurting us all.
The actual fact that she thought I’d just let her leave me is laughable as it is.
I look at her again when I hear a ruffle to see she’s turned away from me, facing the window, and my jaw ticks.
The whole time she lived here, not once had she slept in this room, but after I said what I did two weeks ago, she started, and that just pisses me off. My anger shifts to resentment, doubling toward her.
I know I shouldn’t have mouthed off or called her names.
I was angry—she was talking about leaving our daughter and seriously, she can’t really expect me to be alright with her after just a few weeks, especially after learning she knew she was pregnant when she left and didn’t come to me.
First, I’m frustrated, then I feel betrayed, then I’m just… hurt and sad.
Honestly, she shouldn’t be the one pissed at me right now. She should be giving me time to process the fucked up month I’ve had instead of sleeping in the spare goddamn bedroom every night instead of in our bed like I planned before I ran my mouth like a dick.
I should have locked the fucking door to the room.
After Dad spent some time with Aisling two weeks ago, getting to know his granddaughter and Jas stayed out of the way, I listened to Jas reading a story to Aisling from outside her bedroom door, hearing the love she had in her tone towards our daughter and it frustrated me even more that she’d consider leaving.
Instead of barging in and confronting her about her fucking decisions, I checked the locks to help me calm down before I went and checked on my little girl, before confronting Jas, only I found Aisling asleep alone.
I returned to our room expecting Jas to be there, ready to continue our argument, but I couldn’t find her.
I felt like I couldn’t breathe and started searching every room, already knowing everything was locked so she had to be somewhere in the house before I finally found her here, asleep, and I sat and watched her all night.
Now it’s become a fucking routine.
Unless I’m on a night shift, I kiss our daughter goodnight, search for her mother in here, find her asleep, and hold her until around four in the morning.
Then I sit against the wall and watch her until I get messages from Dirty reminding me of my shifts at the garage, just like this morning even though he knows I’m meant to be on a night shift at the hospital tonight but the fucker apparently needs me.
I drop my head back again and silently groan.
Fuck I’m tired, but I can’t sleep past four because if I do, Jasmine might find a way to leave the house—and me—and that thought makes me sick to my stomach, which is why I’m up at four every fucking morning.
I love her, that much hasn’t changed in the six years she’s been gone, but I have. The way I see her now is different.
She’s not the girl I thought she was, yet I can’t let her go. I just can’t and it doesn’t help that the little voice in the back of my head is telling me she is that girl, that she just made wrong decisions believing she was saving me, saving our daughter.
My phone buzzes in my pocket—this time a call and I sigh, check the ID, groan silently before glancing once more at Jas to see she’s still out of it, then slowly rise, walk out, and shut the door behind me as I answer, “Pres?”
“Ha!” he replies, “I knew you still saw yourself as a brother.”
I roll my eyes, “It was a slip of the tongue, Doc. What can I do for you?”
He chuckles, “You’ll be back on runs by next month, I fucking guarantee it, and Axel will be fucking happy to see you. The fucker is already threatening to ride down and kick some sense into you about your cut, I mean, fuck brother, it’s been over a month, we want you back.”
Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?
Axel is the President of the Untamed Hell Fire’s MC, and his old lady is batshit crazy, like, spray painting his bike or pouring glitter glue in his shampoo bottle and hiring male strippers to the clubs he affiliates with, kind of crazy when he pisses her off.
Fuck, before I handed my cut in, a box of vibrators arrived with a glitter cannon and the latest, according to Doc’s old lady Brit, apparently Annie and some other old ladies of the club decided to give lap dances to random guys at their strip joint as punishment when the brothers decided to do some kind of intervention or some shit which is hypocritical of them considering if it was the other way, shit would have hit the fucking fan and they know it.
According to Brit, the women also poured hair dye and shit in the shampoo bottles.
They went too far, and I think they know it, or I fucking hope they know it because there is only so much a brother can take, believe me, I fucking know.
I sigh, “Again, what can I do for you?”
I’m not going to deny it, I’m not surprised Axel would come to confront me. He and Doc are basically my best friends and the only ones, besides Dad, Doc, and Lyndsey, who know where I live, though, Lyndsey only found out because she followed me home one night after work like a fucking stalker.
“Your dad wants you at the club to see this,” he says seriously, and I swallow hard, knowing exactly what I need to witness.
Am I shocked it’s taken him two weeks to decide to do this? No, not really. He wanted to give me time to process the fact that my mother wanted to slice my daughter's throat open after she was born, but am I surprised he’s doing this publicly? Yeah, I kind of am.
Despite him hooking up with Tiffany, he loves Mama. He always has, but she strayed, hurting him, which is the only reason why he fucks the clubwhore who would give anything to have his patch though this might make her a little crazy.
“Why do I need to be there for it?” I ask, not wanting to leave Jas alone.
If Dad is the one kicking my mother out, then who in the fuck will stay with my girl and ensure she doesn’t leave me?
“Because the bitch treated you like dirt all because of your gender and she threatened your girl, pushing her to make the decision to leave you so get your ass here. Vincent is on his way to guard your woman and yes he’s under strict instructions to keep his fucking mouth shut about your address or he won’t just lose his prospect patch but his life, so move it, brother,” that said, he hangs up and I huff as I look at the spare bedroom door, glaring at it.
“Can’t believe she slept in the spare room yet a-fucking-gain,” I mutter with anger, and I shake my head before heading to Aisling's room.
I honestly thought she’d give in by now, I mean come on, she shouldn’t be the one pissed!