by M. Robinson
It seemed as though I stood there, watching their mannerisms and banter for hours, smiling on the outside while my heart was breaking all over again on the inside. I couldn’t take it any longer.
It was too far.
Too genuine.
Too. Fucking. Fast.
I reached my limit with the overwhelming emotions I voluntarily brought into my home. Seeing the way they were on camera, like they truly were mother and daughter, didn’t affect me as much as it did seeing them interact in person in that moment.
For the first time in a long time, things felt right.
She felt right.
Being here…
For Journey.
My kids.
For me, too?
I growled, pissed off I was allowing my mind to wander there, and she hadn’t even fully moved in yet. The remorse was eating me alive, feeling as though I was cheating on my wife when it couldn’t have been further from the truth.
I’d never betray Bailey. Not like this.
Suddenly, our eyes locked from across the room.
Camila whispered, loud enough for me to hear in Journey’s ear, “Wave hi to your daddy. He loves you so much.”
Journey turned, narrowing her bright blue eyes at me that reminded me so much of her mother’s. Her intense stare never wavered from mine as if she remembered last night and didn’t know what to think of me.
Or worse, I was a complete stranger and she didn’t know how to react to me.
Camila was the one to break her concentrated demeanor, adding, “It’s okay, Little Miss, he’s your daddy and sometimes daddies turn into beasts. Just wait until you start dating.”
Journey smiled, giggling like she knew what Camila was saying.
Although things were tense between us, it didn’t stop Camila from trying to develop a bond between my baby girl and me.
“Can you say ‘Da’?”
Journey answered her, “Ma!”
Camila shrugged it off, gazing at me. Silently trying to find a middle ground amongst us all.
I was the first to cease our connection, instantly feeling ashamed I did so.
Why?
“You’re making a stinky,” Camila announced, now lovingly looking at Journey. Playing it off like my withdrawal didn’t just hurt her feelings.
Again, why?
“It’s okay, your daddy has that effect on people. They poop themselves while he’s around.”
I grinned.
“Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
I watched them leave the living room, overcome by a sense of loss when all they were doing was walking to another room.
“The fuck you doing, Aiden?” I chastised myself.
“Took the words right outta my mouth,” Noah chimed in, catching me off guard.
I spun to face him. His eyes were clearly taking in the suitcase still in my grip.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“Don’t what? Point out you’re carryin’ her luggage, so that means you’re what? Movin’ her in?”
“Yes, that.”
He put his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Don’t come for me, man. But you might be comin’ for her, yeah?”
“Noah…”
“Skyler said to bring her back, not move her in. That’s on you.” He peered around me. “Wit’ dat ass though… I can see why.”
“I’m sure your pregnant wife would love to hear that.”
He laughed, pulling out his cigarettes. “One, I’m married not dead. Two, Skyler reads all those fuck me books with shirtless douches on the covers. Makes her wet for me.” He arched an eyebrow. “Maybe she should let your new live-in nanny read one… you know, so you don’t havta work so hard at it, old man.”
“You little shit.”
“Just helpin’ ya out. Fuck knows the last time you got your dick wet, or has it fallen off cuz you’ve become a complete pussy now?”
Noah might have been a grown ass man, but he was still very much the little shit I met in my hospital all those years ago.
“Those things will still kill you,” I reminded, nodding toward the pack of cigarettes in his hand. Trying to change the subject.
He cocked his head to the side, remembering how we first met. Repeating the same words he did that day, “Not fast enough.”
Throwing me back to another place in time where the little cock sucker in front of me was worried about his mother and not my dick.
I scoffed out a chuckle. “How old are you?”
Narrowing his eyes at me, he drawled, “Old enough. So unless you got somethin’ to say about my mother, you can turn your ass back around. Don’t need your bullshit of what’s wrong or right.”
For a few seconds, I mirrored his stare. Before replying, “How about you let me buy you a cup of coffee? I can update you on your mom’s condition on our way to the cafeteria.”
If it wasn’t for me having news about his mother, he’d tell me to eat shit, but he gave me the benefit of the doubt. Inhaling one last drag, he flicked out his cigarette. Nodding for me to start walking.
There was something about this kid that reminded me so much of myself at his age. Angry with the world and desperately trying to fit in somewhere.
I held out my hand, stopping him. “I’m Dr. Pierce, but you can call me Aiden.”
He warily glanced down at my gesture and shook my hand. I could tell by the look on his face, no one ever asked to shake his hand.
Once we walked back into the hospital, I started talking to him all the way to the cafeteria. I’d learned a lot through my first year of residency in the ER, especially how to approach kids in similar fucked-up situations I’d been raised in.
There was something different about this boy. I couldn’t resist the urge to help him. I’d pumped his mom’s stomach too many times to know no good came out of his home.
Hoping I could get through to him, I explained myself, “I’ve been the doctor on call when you’ve brought your mom in before. Seen her the last few times in fact.”
“She gonna be alright?”
“To be completely honest with you, she got lucky this time. Overdosing on alcohol caused her seizure. I pumped her stomach again, like I have every time she’s been in my ER. You know the drill by now, I’m sure. I want to keep her overnight for observation and get some fluids in her. She’s severely dehydrated right now. How long has she been an alcoholic? From the looks of her liver, it’s been a few years.”
“Somethin’ like that.”
We stepped into the elevator and I watched him carefully, contemplating what I was going to say. “It’s only a matter of time before her liver starts giving out on her, Noah. Is there anyone who can help you get her into a rehab?”
“She won’t go,” he stated, hitting the fourth-floor button to the cafeteria.
“You’ve tried to talk to her about it then?”
“Listen, Aiden, yeah?”
I slowly nodded.
“No need for this heart-to-heart, cut the bullshit. She gonna be alright or not?”
“For now, yes. For the future, no.”
He took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. Looking like he wanted to tear it the fuck out. Making me recall how many times I’d felt the same way.
“She needs help, Noah. You can’t keep enabling her.”
“Enablin’ her?” he growled in a throaty roar. “Don’t talk like you know shit ’bout me. You don’t know what I do for her. She’s my mother, and half the time I want to ring her fuckin’ neck for drinkin’ herself into a coma. But what the fuck am I supposed to do? Huh? I can’t make her stop drinkin’, and if you think I’m just gonna let her drink herself into the ground then”—he nodded at me—“fuck you. I’ll take her to another damn hospital. Didn’t ask, and don’t need your shit on top of all the other bullshit I deal wit’ on the daily, Dr. Pierce.”
I jerked back as the elevators dinged open, and it was the first time I took a good look at him. From his tattoos to the cut he was wearing on h
is back.
I’d lived with a few motorcycle clubs as a child, they were all the same.
Bad.
Especially, Devil’s Rejects.
He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, sixteen years old… how was he already wearing a prospects vest?
“You’re right,” I acknowledged. “I don’t know shit about you. What I do know is that you keep bringing your mother into my ER to get her stomach pumped, and one day her liver is going to stop working and you won’t have a mother to bring into my ER anymore.”
He grimaced. It was quick, but I saw it.
I hated that he was trying to be so fucking strong, when what he needed was for someone to be strong for him.
“I’m trying to help you, it’s my job,” I affirmed in a sincere tone. “I know what it’s like to grow up too fast. I’ve been in your combat boots, but I chose another life.” I didn’t hesitate, eyeing the 1% patch on his cut before bringing my stare to meet his again. “And you can too, Noah.”
It was his turn to get a good look at me, instantly shifting his eyes to the three crosses tattooed on my neck that I was trying to cover with my white doctor coat and stethoscope. He recognized the symbolism behind my tattoos, most people who grew up like we did didn’t bat an eye on the meaning.
They understood. Exactly like he did.
He took one last look at me and backed out of the elevator, leaving me in there. Shaking his head, he scoffed out what I’d been thinking all along, “Not when your old man is the one holdin’ the gun to your head, ready to pull the fuckin’ trigger.”
I jerked back again, instantly understanding who his father was. Putting two and two together seeing Jameson on his cut and his mom’s chart. I hated the reaction I gave him, but for some reason…
It still fucking hurt him coming from me.
“Fuck’s sake, you really are old. Are you reminiscin’ right now?” Noah questioned, bringing me back to the present.
“You’re still such a fuckin’ shit.”
He shrugged. “It’s part of my charm.”
I joked, “I should have just ignored you in the hospital.”
“Naw, it ain’t your style. Case in point, your new live-in nanny. You like savin’ people, Dr. Pierce.”
“She’s here for my kids.”
“Cut the bullshit. You ain’t talkin’ to Skyler. It’s me. Man to man, ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ movin’ on, Aiden.”
“Don’t.”
“How long you gonna live like this? Bailey wouldn’t want that, and you know it. I’ve let it go on long enough, yeah? You can’t keep this shit up, cuz your gonna lose everythin’ you worked so fuckin’ hard for. You saved my ass more than once, now save your own. Ya feel me?”
“I wish it were that easy.”
“Stop livin’ in the past, there ain’t nothin’ you can do to change what happened with Bailey. It ain’t your fault.”
“Don’t,” I advised again, holding back my temper.
“You can say ‘don’t’ to me all ya want, it doesn’t change the fact Camila is here. For you.”
“For my kids.”
“Whatever ya gotta tell yourself, bro.” He patted my back. “We both know I know women, and that woman is good wit’ your kids, and she’s good to your friends. Ya got any idea how many times she’s sent Skyler home wit’ food for the MC without ever even meetin’ us? You don’t do that for someone you don’t care ‘bout. And from the way she was just lookin’ at you, there’s sure as fuck somethin’ there between you two.”
“Noah—”
“For Christ’s sake, at least stroke your cock to her once, so it takes the fuckin’ stick outta your ass.”
I growled, and he smiled.
“You did good today. Havin’ Camila here might be the distraction you need. I gotta go. You can thank me later.” He turned and left, flicking me off from behind. This was Noah to a T, blunt as fuck. He didn’t mean any harm, he just wanted to see me happy. Back to the man he used to know.
I shook him off and spent the rest of the day thinking about her…
And I wasn’t referring to Bailey.
Chapter 8
<>Camila<>
I laid Journey down for her afternoon nap and walked down the hall to take care of some unfinished business. Needing him to hear me out, whether he wanted to or not.
“Jackson!” I shouted through the door, knocking.
“Go away!”
“We need to talk!”
“No, we don’t!”
“Jackson, please! Just ope—”
The door abruptly swung open. “What?!”
I jumped back, not expecting him to be so abrasive. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. You don’t have to bite my head off.”
“I’m fine,” he calmly remarked.
“You don’t look fine.”
“What do you need me to say? I’ll say whatever you want to make you go away.”
I snapped, “What the hell, man?! You’re worse than a moody teenage chick! You can’t be nice to me and then—”
“Nice to you? When was I nice to you?”
I didn’t want to bring this up, but it seemed like I had no choice. “Last night, you defended me to your fath—”
“I did that for Journey, not for you.”
“Oh, come on, Jackson. Even you don’t believe that. Why can’t you just admit you like me? That maybe we could be friends, especially now that I liv—” I stopped myself.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that shit. What were you about to say?”
“Well…what had happened was…last night, I umm…drank a little too much…and uh…didn’t make wise choices,” I stumbled over my words, not knowing how to express myself correctly.
“What does that have to do with what you were about to say?”
“You remember, ‘don’t answer’, on my phone?”
“Yeah.”
“Well…I answered…sort of…and now…I umm… he’s just…and your father intervened and… yeah… so…”
“Speak woman!”
“I kind of live here now.” I shrugged.
His glared at me.
“Not forever! It’s not like that. Just until I can figure it all out. Honestly, everything just kind of happened really fast and your dad is—”
“An asshole.”
“I was going to say protective and stubborn.” I nodded. “But your adjective works too.”
“My dad moved you in?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Maybe. You’re confusing me with your trickery, like your dad did this morning.”
“This morning? He spent the night with you?”
“What? No!”
“No?”
“Well kind of, but not like that. You’re twisting it again.”
“I’m not twisting shit. I’m going off of what you’re saying.”
“Listen.” I put my hands out in front of me. “The contact ‘don’t answer’ is not a good person, and last night I was angry and went to my friend’s club to let off some steam dancing, and for a split second, I forgot he was who he is, and it got me into trouble. Your dad showed up uninvited and kind of rescued me, and that sounded so weird even saying it,” I expressed, shaking my head. “I kind of passed out and he took me home.”
“So what you’re saying is you got shitfaced, hooked up—”
“I didn’t hook up with ‘don’t answer’. We danced, for like five seconds and your dad showed up. Things kind of spiraled out of control after that.”
“Are you okay?”
I was surprised he followed up with that, but I went with it. “Yeah, for the most part. I didn’t want any of this to come about, and I feel horrible because it did. Your dad thinks I’m in danger if I stay in my apartment, and he might be right. At this point, I honestly don’t know.”
“So ‘don’t answer’ is that bad?”
I could see the remorse
in Jackson’s eyes and it hurt my stomach.
“I mean, I didn’t think so until I realized how he’s always treated me. Jackson, it’s hard to explain. I didn’t grow up like you.”
He considered what I said for a few seconds. “I’m sure my mom would love you living here,” he snidely remarked.
I sighed, stepping away. He was tearing into my insecurities about the situation, and all it made me want to do was leave. I was ready to turn around, but he grabbed my arm stopping me.
“I didn’t mean that. I mean… I did mean that, just not in the asshole way I said it. My mom wouldn’t want you to be in danger either. Besides, you stay over most of the time anyway. She’d be happy you’re here. For Journey.”
I nodded, not knowing what to say.
“And for Jagger.”
I couldn’t help myself. “And for you?”
He grinned. “Don’t push it.”
I smiled. I know our dynamic came off more like friends, but I wanted Jackson to trust me and open up. If I went all parental on him, I would lose the ground we’d already gained.
“Don’t let it go to your head, Mary Poppins. I mostly just like your cooking.”
“I thought you accused me of trying to poison you?”
“That’s probably true.”
“Probably, huh? Did you probably help me last night because you kind of like me too?”
“I already told you, I did that for Journey.”
“Well whatever the reason, thank you.”
“You’re not going to get all mushy and want to hug me, right?”
I laughed. “I don’t know, Jackson. Maybe we should hug it out. Maybe you’re a closet hugger and you just don’t know it yet.”
“Ask Harley. She’ll tell you what happened after she tried to hug me last night too.”
“Awe. I saw you guys on the roof. You were so cute, I think you lov—”
“Finish that sentence and watch how fast I slam the door in your face. She caught me at a moment of weakness, it’s not going to happen again.”
“Maybe it will.”
“I’m positive it won’t.”
“Why are you so mean to her?”
“Because I can’t stand her.”
“If that were true, you never would’ve let her comfort you in the first place.”
