Chapter 2 #2
Hunter, I wanted to let you know I have a checkup next week. I’d like it if you were there. It’s on Tuesday at four o’clock. Do you think you can attend? Isabella
The muscles over my ribs tighten as I respond.
I won’t be able to attend. You’re far enough along to have a paternity test done. Please set that up and let me know what you need from me. H
I settle back in my chair with a stiff neck. A response comes back within seconds.
They’ll need your blood sample. If you want it done, then we can do it at this visit. If not, then you can wait. Isabella
The thought of parenting a child with this woman is enough to have me wanting to jump out of this plane. She’s a gold digger who makes my skin crawl.
I don’t know how she did it—there was no way I could’ve performed when I was passed out—but if I slept with her, she purposely got me to without a condom.
Talking to her was a drunken mistake. One I’ll likely pay for from here on out.
A wave of nausea ripples through me, and I type out another response. She’s not going to manipulate me into anything.
I can’t be there. My girlfriend and I already have plans. If you won’t schedule the test, I’ll look into getting a court order.
My recommendation is to quit making this difficult. Using your pregnancy won’t make me want you. If anything, it only makes me resent you. I’ll leave the choice up to you. H
Her response lands in my inbox a minute later.
You may think you have the upper hand, but you don’t. Get your court order, and I’ll do what I need. Just know that the turmoil that’s coming for you is all your doing. Sleep well tonight. You’re going to need it. Isabella
I want to believe she’s bluffing with an empty threat, but something about her confidence tells me she’s dead serious. This day just keeps getting worse.
I stew and fret about Isabella’s pregnancy, Dorothy’s mental health, and Jamison hanging on by a thread.
I can’t shake the feeling that my mother is a part of the shooting, but I can’t make sense of it. I type out an email addressed to my dad.
Dad, if you can think of anything that could help me understand why my mother would give Ava that betting chip, I would appreciate you telling me about it.
I have a feeling my mother could be behind the shooting that took place today. Jamison’s life is hanging in the balance. It could’ve been Dorothy.
If there’s anything you know, please tell me. I need to get ahead of anything she has planned.
Thanks, Hunter
My dad’s response comes about ten minutes later.
Hunter,
I know nothing about the betting markers. I thought they had all been destroyed. Why your mother took them and gave them to you and Jonah is beyond my comprehension.
At this point, your guess is as good as mine. She’s been living with the mob mentality for a long time, so I can only imagine what she’s conjuring up. If I think of anything that has merit, I’ll let you know.
Like I’ve said before, be careful. She obviously has some kind of plan. It’s only a matter of time before that is revealed.
On another note, I’m writing an email to the board now, explaining what happened to Jamison and Dori. I’ll keep your suspicions about her involvement out of it for now, but be prepared. It may have to be discussed at some point.
Stay safe!
Dad
It’s not the message I was hoping to get, but knowing that my dad doesn’t seem to know my mother anymore makes me feel a little better. She must have been a different person when they met. That’s my only consolation.
About twenty minutes later, Jonah sends me a message telling me that Jamison is still in surgery. As much as Jamison and I have gone after each other, I don’t want this for him.
We might be on opposing sides because we love the same woman, but we’d be friends if that weren’t the case. And knowing how much his condition must be weighing on Dorothy makes me wish for nothing but the most favorable outcome.
I flip back to the video feed of the shooting, taking in everything I can. The last I heard from Dorothy was that Jamison and she hadn’t spoken since the day in his apartment when he said goodbye.
What were they doing together?
Maybe they ran into each other at work.
It doesn’t matter. The only thing that does is they were targeted, and that is because of me.
I slow down the speed of the video. Dorothy climbs over to Jamison, and I try to read her lips as she screams. It looks like she says, I love you, so fight.’ I replay it until I’m convinced that’s what she says.
My chest fills with anxious butterflies. I’m not ignorant of her feelings for him, so I can’t help worrying that this event will change her commitment to me.
She’s been putting on a brave face about his move to Miami, but I know it’s a facade. She’s devastated about him leaving. I know this because when I’ve mentioned him to her, the pain in her eyes is as clear as the day is long.
Along with that, our relationship is in a delicate place. We’ve only been back together for a few weeks. Just a week ago, Jamison and she shared a kiss, then two days later, she found out about Isabella.
I thought bringing in the New Year together would spur on some good luck, but Dorothy’s gone through more pain than anyone should have to go through. I can only hope she stays with me, but I’m not counting on it.
We touch down, and I deplane with knots of dread consuming me. I should get to the hospital in fifteen minutes, but the time it takes is like walking death row while carrying the world on my back. With every moment I get closer, I sense the end getting nearer.