Chapter 51
Fifty-One
I’m awake prior to Jax, my thoughts restless as I watch her chest rise and fall with each steady breath. Her mouth twitches then morphs into a languid smile, making we wonder what she’s dreaming about.
This woman has infiltrated all my barriers and fortresses and made it to a place no one ever has before. It should terrify me—and partly, it does—but the more pervasive emotion is…happiness.
Goddamn motherfucking happiness.
The golden girl’s sunny disposition and constant harping on the necessity of joy have wiggled right into my bones.
But.
There’s always a “but,” isn’t there? Mine is the questionable configuration Jax, Remy, and I created nearly four months ago.
This table for three isn’t built to last. I never wanted it, asked for it, dreamed of it, yet I’ve gone with the flow.
And I won’t deny it’s had some fun moments.
Explosive. Raunchy. Memorable. Even loving. Hell, especially loving.
But.
My absolute favorite minutes are when the two of us are alone. I’m greedy for more of them, more of her. I want her all to myself, and in going down this road, I worry I’m going to lose her.
This relationship construct isn’t sustainable.
It’s also not socially acceptable, and although I don’t care much about that, I can’t say I don’t care at all, and I’m confident people like my mother care a lot.
And without question, her father—who still isn’t even aware we’re together—would shit a brick and probably come after me loaded for fucking bear.
It’s just…messy.
I don’t want it to end. Emotions I once thought unattainable whisper within me. It’s a small triumph—and as addictive as the woman sleeping next to me. Jax shifts onto her side facing me, her hands curling under her chin, long golden strands cascading over her shoulder.
I’m not sure how to navigate the predictable storm heading our way, and I don’t want to be a downer or poke a hole in Jax’s balloon.
But.
I shake off the doomsday thoughts and trade them in for faith. This will all work out somehow. Love conquers all and shit, right? And when the dust finally settles, Jax and I will be left standing. I’ll make it so or die trying.
The trill of the phone interrupts our breakfast.
“Is this Mick Callahan?” It’s a woman’s voice, one I don’t recognize.
“Speaking.”
“This is Heather from Peninsula Nursing Home.”
My shoulders immediately tense. “Yes?”
She pauses. “Mr. Callahan, I’m sorry to report your father passed this morning.” She keeps talking but I tune her out, waiting to feel something. Anything. But I don’t, aside from a smidgeon of relief.
My gaze flickers to Jax, whose brows raise.
“…wish I could have given you more notice,” Heather continues, “but everything happened quite suddenly. He had a stroke and went into cardiac arrest. We were unable to revive him.”
“So he didn’t die peacefully?”
In my periphery, Jax’s head snaps my way. A second later, she bolts to my side.
“Well, no, but it did happen quickly. As you know, he’s been in decline…”
The nurse prattles on as finally, satisfaction permeates. Bill Callahan didn’t deserve a peaceful death. The fucker was probably threatening whoever was banging on death’s door.
“What do you need from me? What’s the process?” I ask, turning to grab a piece of scrap paper and a pen.
Heather outlines what’s necessary, and I’m already rearranging my day, planning who to call next. I thank her and hang up.
Jax steps in front of me, her hands landing on my waist as she gives me the space to tell her.
“My father died this morning,” I confirm.
Her eyes search mine. “I’m sorry, Mick.”
I shake my head. Nothing to be sorry about today.
“Not for the reasons you think,” she adds, placing one hand on my chest. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve endured with that man.
All the pain he caused to you and others.
The aftermath of you caring for him this past year.
I’m sure it’s a relief he’s gone, but it will never erase the damage or harm he inflicted. ”
She wraps her arms around me, and I hold her close, taking the comfort and kindness she’s offering, partly for me and partly for her. There’s surety in her body against mine, her essence an elixir in and of itself, our hearts communicating as they beat in proximity.
I’m reminded she’s the human being most worthy of any of my feelings.
But not my father. Definitely not that abusive bastard.
With his death, I hope the part of me that remembers anything about him dies too and stays officially buried in the place I’ve tried to shove the misery of our relationship my entire life.