Chapter 6
Jasmine – Age Twenty-Seven
I rub my forehead as I lean over the small kitchen table, going through my bills, and I swear, breathing becomes difficult at the overall price for this month. Every decision I have made so far haunts me and my bottom lip wobbles.
I thought I was making the right decision by leaving, by protecting…
I’m failing.
A few tears fall as I look over the letter. The utility bill is higher than last month, making my heart pound, and I swallow hard while my hand shakes with fear.
I’m barely meeting my bills as it is, and they’ve gone and raised my utility payments.
What am I going to do?
I don’t have anyone to ask for help, anyone to run to after I left Louisiana, left my life, the happiness I finally found.
I slam the paper on the table with anger and frustration before I wipe away the tears.
Six years, and instead of being a lawyer, helping my uncle in his firm, showing him what I’m made of as I have always dreamed of.
I’m a paralegal at a crappy office in town, two hours away from home, struggling to live paycheck to paycheck, feeling more alone than ever before.
This isn’t where I thought I would be.
My eyes tear up again as I deflate, and I rub my rib where Logan’s name is inked, and I try to breathe through my emotions, trying to allow the strength he used to give me to help me right now so I don’t fall apart, so I can get through this.
Still, my mind wanders down the rabbit hole yet again whenever I begin to think of him which is every goddamn day.
We should have been married by now, living on his farm with several animals and maybe even three kids.
We should have been living the dream, but we’re not, we’re both hurting, even after six years, both still feeling the pain from me leaving without a word, something I didn’t think he would still feel, or I had hoped he wouldn’t still feel.
“He’s broken, darling…”
Granny’s words from a few days ago echo, and I squeeze my eyes tight not wanting to believe them.
I shouldn’t have called her, after six years, after not giving in, I shouldn’t have called her, especially knowing the danger to me, to my-my…
I shake my head. I needed to see if she was okay, and I-I, dammit, I needed to know she was still with us, that I still had my mother figure.
I needed to selfishly see that she didn’t hate me because I hated me.
She spent half an hour explaining all about the mischief she’d gotten up to since I left, the pranks she’d pull on the other residents, before explaining how much she’d missed hearing my voice.
It warmed my heart, it did, but I could hear how frail she was, I could hear her trying to stay upbeat so she wouldn’t worry me.
And I was worried, I still am, but there isn’t anything I can do, not knowing the danger I’m being put in by my own mother at that.
Granny did try to get me to confess where I was, and I wanted to give in, I really did, but I couldn’t. The line went quiet for a moment, just one moment, and that is all it took for me to cave.
I messed up and asked about the man I dream about, the man I left behind to keep myself safe, to keep our…
I sigh heavily. He should have moved on, he should have settled down by now. His mother was adamant that there was a girl in waiting, that she had plans for her son, plans that didn’t include me.
So why hasn’t he?
A few tears fall, and I press on the tattoo harder as I quickly wipe them away, willing myself to get my emotions in check.
And even though I feel like I’m breaking, like the last six years has taken twenty years off my own life span, the fear of Mama finding me, or Bruce, the fear that Logan’s mama would do as she threatened and kill me, I need to stay strong.
My mind keeps wondering about so much since the call with Granny… I miss her so goddamn much.
Should I have just gone to Logan?
Should I have just told him what happened?
Should I have just told his brother who saved me?
No, I couldn’t have, Mama would have destroyed his club, his career, and the woman who came to see me, a woman I don’t even know how she found me, was his mother, and I couldn’t let him choose between us, I wouldn’t.
Dammit, I hate second-guessing myself like this.
I wipe away the fallen tears and take a deep breath as I look over the bills again and try to figure out a way to do this, to survive but I can’t, the number is just too high and maybe moving to a one bedroom might be best for now.
“I really should have kept the cash,” I mutter to myself as I grab my pen and begin moving money around, seeing which bills can wait a few weeks until my next payday or until I find a one bedroom apartment.
The rent, the water, the electric, those bills are a must, but I can’t cut back on the grocery shop any more than I already have.
I clamp down on my bottom lip to stop the frustrated scream from escaping.
After Logan’s mama left the room and I’d cried my eyes out, I looked in the duffel bag, and it is safe to say, I wasn’t too shocked that it had thousands in it.
She wanted me gone, that much was clear and so was the fact she had no idea who my family was, the money that I came from. I didn’t keep the money, or use it as my getaway, I donated it to the hospital, doing what was right, especially after everything they did for me, the rules they bent.
My eyes travel to the pictures lining the walls, several of Logan and me in our life together, a few of Granny and Uncle Charms, until they linger on the ones in the middle of them, the reason why I’m fighting every single day, and a few tears fall yet again as the pressure weighing down on my shoulders sinks me some more.
I miss Logan, Granny, my uncle. I miss the life I was slowly getting, the one I forced myself not to dream of.
“Mama, Mama, guess what, guess what,” Aisling shouts, gaining my attention and I swallow the lump forming.
I quickly wipe my face as I look towards the hallway just as she runs my way, her light brown, curly hair up in her usual bun, her grin wide as she tries to hold up her pink tutu that is way too big for her little body. I got it for ninety-nine cents at a thrift store.
Who knew I’d have a daughter who was obsessed with ballet when I tried to run away from it, huh?
Her eyes, eyes that look just like her father's, twinkle with happiness, and I smile slightly despite the sadness I always feel.
No one knows she exists, not even Doc, the man who is in the brotherhood with her father, the man who saved me from my mother who tried to beat her out of me.
“I just wanted to come check on you,” Doc says as he stands at the bottom of my bed, his eyes looking at my chart, sadness etching off him, reading that I miscarried, reading the lie the doctors scribbled after I pleaded, confessing I was in danger, knowing Mama wouldn’t stop until the baby is dead.
I thought he left, but I guess his conscience kicked in.
“They said I should be discharged soon,” I whisper, looking away from him, hoping he doesn’t catch me out on another lie.
The doctors say I’m at high risk of miscarrying, that I need to be monitored but within the next two hours, my mother will storm this hospital with my father in tow, claiming to have been told I was attacked.
Then there’s the love of my life’s mother, who will be watching my every move as soon as I leave this hospital, to make sure I do as she demands.
To protect myself, my baby, and Logan, I need to leave, to break my own heart, as well as his and I know by leaving, he could move on, start a family but I have to go.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t see what was happening in time,” Doc whispers, and I shake my head as I angrily wipe away a few stray tears.
“Don’t feel guilty, it isn’t your fault, and besides, I’m just a stranger…” I reply without looking at him.
“I’m still sorry,” he says, and I nod but don’t say anything in return. I stare at the light blue threads, wishing I could call Logan, but I can’t.
How can I get between a mother and a son?
How can I bring the wrath of my family on the club?
The answer, I can’t.
She’s my little secret that I must protect, meaning never returning home, never seeing Logan again.
“What, my little bumblebee?” I ask my beautiful daughter quietly, and she stops before me and grins widely as she slowly opens her hand and shows me a small spider.
Don’t knock it out of her hand, I try to remind myself as I tilt my lips at her.
“Can I keep it?” she asks with a whisper, and I chuckle lightly.
“No, darling girl, you can’t. Spiders deserve to live out in the open, to be free,” I say, and she scrunches her nose up in distaste, making me smile wide as I wrap my arm around her tiny waist and pull her into me as I kiss her head before mumbling, “Why don’t you open the window and set it free?”
The little human I created huffs, and I try to hide my amused grin as she stomps over to the windows, muttering, “So not fair.”
Damn girl is definitely Logan's child.
My smile slowly fades as Logan comes back to me yet again, and my bottom lip wobbles as I watch our daughter gently place the spider outside the window, then lean down on her chin to watch it crawl away. I swallow hard as my tears fall and I wish things were different.
Will she forgive me when she realizes I kept her from her father?
Will he ever forgive me for trying to protect our daughter?
Damn, will I ever forgive myself for not handling things differently and not mouthing off to Mama that day and going to Logan to explain everything within my family?
No, the answer to all of them is no.