Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Being in Oakland—even if only for twenty-four hours—is a blessing and a curse. Getting away from the daily hell I’m trapped in, run by Lucifer himself, only makes me aware how much I took my former days for granted. This? Just a regular day? Turns out, it’s nirvana.
With my forearms resting on the deck rail, I gaze across the landscape toward the deep navy bay, soaking it all in as if never experiencing it before.
Fresh air and sunshine. Birds coasting on the currents.
Sailboats gliding in the wind. And silence.
Gratifyingly enormous, blessed quiet aside from nature’s soundtrack and Fleetwood Mac on the turntable.
I escaped to handle a few things for my mom while she’s out of town, and I haven’t told a soul I’m here.
I’ve been a shitty friend and a morose bastard, and the two go together.
If I called Remy right now, he’d forgive it all in a heartbeat.
That’s just his unflappable way. But he’d likely want to party all night, and I’m just not up for any of that.
And I have no idea where Jax is…but I can’t stomach seeing her either.
Whenever I merely think about her, the weight crushes my heart as if it’s in a trash compactor.
The guilt, despair, remorse. And the cowardliness I’ve displayed…
yeah, total asshole. I deserve whatever I’m dished.
A truck groans to a stop out front, yanking me from my thoughts, and I jog down the steps to meet the two delivery guys.
“Just wanted to show you what you’re up against,” I say, thumbing toward the stairs that stretch up to the house.
The two men take in the steep hike, and one lets out a sigh.
“Oakland hills,” the other says. “We get it all the time.”
They roll open the back of the truck and carry the stuffed chair my mom bought to the edge.
“Need some help?” I offer.
“Nah. But thanks.”
I lead the way, and the two guys grapple with lugging the chair to the top, pausing for a break halfway. Once it’s inside, I sign for it and busy myself tackling the chores my mother needs done.
When day shifts to night, the silence turns deafening, and I venture out for something to eat.
May as well indulge in a gut bomb. I drive to Giant Burger and polish off one of their signature greasy burgers, equally greasy fries, and a Coke.
Not ready to go home, I head into Alameda and pull into the marina.
Not sure why I’m torturing myself, but hey, why not pour a river of lemon juice into the chasm splitting my heart in two?
Moonlight reflects on the gently lapping waves, the docked boats rocking in place. They range from small to vast based on their intended uses and the size of the owner’s pocketbook. I ogle yachts, workboats, sailboats, cabin cruisers.
As much as I want to captain one of these babies—the want, need, longing to do so pulsating within me—just walking among them has a calming effect.
Someday my life will be my own again.
Someday I’ll be working on the water somewhere in the world.
I glance up when I reach my car, and a star twinkles near the waxing crescent moon.
Maybe it’s a sign the universe is vast and not to give up on my dreams.
Maybe it’s to remind me I’m insignificant…and so are my dreams.
Remy and Jax teasing me about getting philosophical interrupts my train of thought. I almost smile, but the pain skewers me so swiftly, I bow in half, placing my hands on my knees, and catch my breath.
I’d do anything to go back to those simpler times.
I trudge back to my car and head home, speeding as if I can outrun my depressive reality.
I’m rounding the last curve on the steep uphill just before my mom’s street, attempting to hang onto what little gratitude being here affords, when I see a figure on the side of the road.
It’s highly unusual, and these roads have no sidewalks, making it perilous any time of day but utterly foolish at night.
My concern swiftly shifts to wariness, and I squint as my car nears, assessing the threat.
Is that?
Couldn’t be.
But yes. It is.
And it could not be more of a threat—to my tenuous hold on life, to my resolve, to my fucking sanity.
My heart pounds with such intensity, pain shoots through my chest, my pulse thundering in my ears. It’s Jacqueline fucking Hall in the flesh—and she’s out here alone. In a revealing dress, no less. And barefoot, carrying high heels that dangle from her fingers.
What the hell?
I stop on the slope, braking in neutral. Reaching over, I roll down the passenger window. “Jacqui, what are you doing out here? What happened?”
Tears flow from her face, and she seems unable to spit out one word. My heart thumps wildly, emotions rampaging through my body. “Get in.” I brace my foot against the brakes and stretch to push the door open on this goddamned hill, gravity not on my side.
Jax merely stares as the door swings soundly shut.
“Damn it, Jax. Get in. Please.” I fling it wide again, hoping she gets in before I do something more drastic. I’m not leaving her on this fucking road.
This time, she catches it and slides inside. Thank fuck.
My tires screech as I fly up the rest of the incline and turn toward my mom’s house. “What happened? What are you doing out here by yourself? Did someone hurt you?”
Her sobs only intensify, kicking all my instincts into high gear.
I tentatively risk touching her, squeezing her knee.
I’m greeted with black and white lace garters and suck in a breath, every cell reawakening my dormant, repressed memories.
My thoughts scramble. Nothing about any of this makes sense.
Oh, it’s Halloween. “And what are you…is this a costume?”
“I’m fine,” she croaks.
I pull up in front of the house, my gaze heavy on her. “You’re clearly not…but you certainly don’t owe me any explanations.”
She snorts. “Damn right I don’t.”
Fuck. “Listen.” I scrub a hand through my hair, clueless about what to do. “I don’t know what you need or where you want to go. I brought you here because it seemed logical, but I’ll take you wherever you want.”
Jax rifles around in her purse then finally answers. “Is your mom home?”
“No. She’s coming back Sunday.”
She levels me with a hard, questioning stare, and I inwardly flinch. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to come in for a few minutes.”
I nod, unsure what else to say, and exit the Mustang. After I open her door, she follows me up the stairs and into the house, beelining to the bathroom once I’ve flicked on the lights.
It’s impossible to process this turn of events.
Staring into the inky night where the city lights kiss the expansive bay provides no solace.
My entire body vibrates with awareness, and my heart continues hammering away in my chest like I’m some home improvement project.
Got news for you…I’m not fixable. You can renovate all you want, but it’s a waste of fucking time.
Jax quietly eases alongside, startling me. “Are you okay? Do you need me to—”
“Why, Mick? Why?” She stares out the sliding glass doors, avoiding my gaze.
I release an anguished exhale, already reeling.
“Why didn’t you call me? How could you leave us the way we were?” she rasps out, like she’s trying to stave off tears.
“Fuck,” I mutter, grappling for the right words, of which there are none. “Jax…I’m…I thought I was doing the best thing for you.”
“For me? Who are you to make decisions for me?”
“After everything went down and I didn’t know when—or if—I’d ever see you again, I didn’t want to tether you to my bullshit. You didn’t, and still don’t, deserve that.”
She faces me now, letting me have it. “You didn’t even give me a chance! You brushed me aside like a…like a speck of lint.”
No! “It may seem so, but you’re wrong.” I stare at the floor. “I hated every second.”
“I loved you!” she wails, and it’s a bona fide punch to the gut. A tear rolls down her face, and I can’t help gently swiping it away. The softness of her skin, the connection between us, sends a jolt through me.
“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” I whisper.
“So, now what? Are you back? Are you living here again?”
“No. I’m only here for a few days. Things are…complicated.”
“Because of your dad?”
I wave a hand, not wanting to elaborate. Not like it matters or changes anything.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
I’d rather not, but I owe her this. “I need a beer first. You want one, or something else?”
“Beer’s fine.”
I snag two from the fridge and take a healthy swallow of mine before returning to the living room.
Jax is parked on one of the sofas expectantly, her feet curled underneath her body.
As I hand her a beer, I’m confronted with how beautiful she is, a fucking angel in human form.
I’ve missed her more than I’ve allowed myself to register. Self-preservation in action.
Picking up my Marlboros, I hard pack it against my palm, unwrap the cellophane, peel back the foil, and dislodge a few. Gazing her way, I raise my eyebrow in question, and she nods. I clamp two cigarettes between my lips, ignite them with my Zippo, and pass her one.
Our fingers graze in the transaction, another hit of familiar warmth spreading through me.
I crack my neck, searching for the words. “I’m sure Remy told you my dad had a heart attack. Then he stroked out. A big one first followed by smaller strokes. He became fully incapacitated.”
“That’s…a lot,” she says, flicking her ash in the orange, kidney-shaped ashtray my mom’s had for years.
“Soon after, my stepmother left him, and my brothers wouldn’t do shit to help, which meant I was stuck dealing with it.” I take a few deep drags, blowing the smoke with force.
“Caring for a father you hate.”
“With a fucking passion.”
“So now you’re responsible for him? How is that fair?”
My eyes swing toward hers. “No one said life was fair, Jax.” I stub out my cigarette, already wanting another.
“Is he going to make it?”
“No idea. But I fucking hope not.”