Confessions (Tattoos & Tears Book 3)

by Amiee Louise

  Jax runs his hands frustratedly through his blonde hair.

  “This is absolute fucking bullshit; Sam and you bloody well know it!” Jax snaps, as Sam narrows his eyes at him.

  “If I wanted your opinion, Jax, I would fucking ask for it!” Sam roars.

  Jax is about to give his reply when Lucas steps forward with his arms folded. His bronzed, tattooed muscles bulging. He shoots a look in Sam and Jax’s direction, his eyes full of fire.

  “GOD DAMN IT! WILL ALL OF YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!” he shouts, in his familiar American twang. “Has anyone actually stopped to ask Peyton why?”

  Sam and Jax avoid his steely gaze. I observe the exchange between the three of them and notice that Brody is stood in the corner of the room. He is stood quietly, with his hands in his pockets, looking to the floor. I find this odd, as Brody is usually the most vocal out of all the boys.

  “No, I didn’t fucking think so, you need to stop and use your heads, both of you. I get that you’re pissed, and you’re hurt, but all of you really need to consider the bigger picture here.”

  He unfolds his arms and points his finger accusingly at Jax.

  “And Jax you need to engage your brain before you engage your god damn mouth. I can guarantee she’s probably feeling pretty shitty about it, but at least have some fucking consideration for her feelings and let her at least explain, assholes.”

  He turns and nods, acknowledging that he has said his peace. I smile at him and mouth ‘thank you’ for jumping to my defence. I am extremely grateful for his intervention, and it is actually a welcome change to have someone in my corner, other than Remy right now. Brody breaks his silence and avoids looking directly at me, which breaks my heart.

  "I don’t know how the fuck they found out you were here, but this place is crawling with fucking press and paparazzi, man. Cole's drafted in extra men to make sure they don't get in here."

  Swift change of subject. Sam shakes his head in exasperation.

  “Fucking fuckers,” Sam curses and I decide now would be a good time to leave, especially after Jax’s reaction to me.

  For the first time in a long time, I feel awkward, out of place and unwelcome by the boys I once considered an extension of my own family.

  "Erm…I should...leave you to it," I say nervously, and Sam grips my wrist gently, his green eyes silently pleading with me.

  “Angel, this isn't finished,” he says gruffly, and I am suddenly engulfed in his familiar scent.

  He smells of Joop, mint, and something typically Sam. It smells like home. He moves his hand from my wrist and grips my hand. I instantly feel goosebumps erupt all over my body and the familiar electricity crackling between us. I am left speechless, as his intense, hungry green gaze has me instantly remembering what his hands felt like running over my body and what his mouth felt like on my pussy as he edged me close to orgasm. I bite my lip and swallow harshly at the direction of my wayward thoughts.

  I am interrupted by the door slamming as Jax exits the room and our moment is lost. He pulls his hand away from mine, and I feel bereft at the loss. I turn to Sam and cautiously rest my forehead on his.

  “I just need some air,” I reassure him, and he nods, leaning back in his hospital bed with his arms folded across his wide chest.

  I leave the room and Brody casually, but silently, follows me out with his hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans. When he catches up to me, he is quiet for a moment, and I can't help feeling uncomfortable. As we walk down the corridor, he breaks the awkward silence and clears his throat.

  “The rest of them might be a bunch of fucking spineless pussies, but I’m not afraid to ask you fucking why, Peyton.”

  His voice is barely a whisper, and with tears welling in my eyes, I shake my head.

  “Not yet, you have to understand Sam needs to hear it from me first. Just know that I never meant for any of this to happen, Brody, none of it,” I choke out, and he nods.

  “I know, babe, I understand you can’t change it, but you can sure as shit make up for it, sweets. Any fucking idiot with a pair of fucking eyes can see that boy still loves you, it’s actually really fucking sickening!” Brody says dramatically and smiles devilishly. “If it’s any consolation, you’re looking good, babe. That invite to share my bed still stands you know?”

  We both laugh, and I roll my eyes dramatically. Typical Brody! Diffusing the situation with humour.

  “In your dreams, rock star, I’m a responsible human being now, I’m someone’s mum,” I say with pride in my voice, and Brody’s eyes widen.

  “You’ve got...a kid? Fuck me, is it...?”

  I hit him on his arm playfully.

  “Yes, he’s Sam’s.”

  I take my phone out and show him a picture of Freddie. Brody’s face breaks out into a genuine grin.

  “Wow! He...he’s a handsome little fucker! He looks so much like Sam, it’s scary! That’s...fucking amazing, sweets, I’m so happy for you, both of you, congratulations!”

  I laugh and pull him in for a hug.

  “You’re an uncle now, babe, just like you wanted!”

  He chuckles softly, and I remember the night we announced my pregnancy at Sam’s thirtieth birthday. I wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my jacket and loop my arm through his.

  “You look like you’re in desperate need of a coffee, sweets, let’s go to the canteen. The coffee in hospitals usually sucks, but it’s fucking chaos out there, there’s a fuck load of fans and press outside. They got wind of Sam being in here, so Starbucks is totally out of the question, I’m sorry, babe.”

  I smile at his thoughtfulness. He swings us both left, and we walk, casually chatting along the way.

  “So, how have you been then, babe?”

  He hangs his head.

  “You want the truth? Not so good, sweetheart. We took a much-needed year out of the music industry, and I spent some time in fucking rehab. Not my finest hour, but I’ve been clean for almost six months now. It’s been the hardest six months of my fucking life, but I actually feel the best I’ve ever fucking felt. My relationship with Sam has been totally rebuilt. I've apologised and made amends for the way I behaved. We’re no longer the toxic duo we once were, and surprisingly enough, we're actually living together now; but it’s the music that got me through. It’s actually my number one priority and not the drugs for once. It hasn’t been that way for such a long, long fucking time and it feels so fucking good.”

  I am genuinely happy that Brody has finally turned his life around and I find myself grinning with pride for him.

  “I’m so happy for you, babe, it’s good to see you looking so healthy and...Hot!”

  We both laugh, as I blatantly check him out. His muscles are bulging, his chest is toned, his hips are lean and narrow, and his t-shirt is stretched over his broad shoulders.

  “You think I’m hot and you’re so fucking checking me out! Wow! I always knew you had a soft spot for me, babe!”

  He winks and clucks his teeth. I throw my head back and laugh. We both get some coffees and sit down opposite each other. He reaches over the table and takes my hand in his tattooed one.

  “Joking aside, darlin’, I’ve missed you. Hell, we’ve all fucking missed you, and now here you are, looking smoking hot.”

  We both laugh, and I know I can always rely on Brody to make me laugh.

  “If we had known what J.D was doing all that time, we would never have allowed that to happen. I can't apologise enough, I’m so fucking sorry, sweets.”

  His voice sounds pained and so full of emotion.

  “I wanted to fucking kill the bastard for laying his hands on you and then kidnapping Sam.”

  He says through clenched teeth and scrubs his hands down his face.

  “Fuck, it wasn’t just Sam that entered the pits of hell, it was all of us. You became my best friend in the time we knew each other, Peyton; I missed you so fucking much. The boys too, Jax, Lucas and Ruby; fuck me she’s going to pitch a fit when she sees you, sh
e’s pregnant with Jax’s baby.”

  My eyes widen. Wow, I’m so ecstatic that Ruby and Jax finally found each other. Both of them deserve to be happy, I’m glad they defined their relationship and sorted themselves out.

  “Oh my God!” I shriek, attracting attention from the neighbouring tables.

  “Jesus! If that’s what you sound like when you come, that’s...fuck...that’s hot!”

  He smiles cheekily, and he adjusts himself in his jeans as I hit him playfully. I take a long sip of my coffee and Brody is regarding me intently from across the table.

  “Where have you been all this time, babe?”

  I put my cup down on the table and hang my head.

  “It’s not important right now. But know this, if I could have come back, I would have, Brody, in a fucking heartbeat. I had to be strong and protect us both. I had to protect myself and our son from fucking J.D. He thought he had killed both of us, but I managed to get away.”

  26

  Peyton

  A Year Ago

  Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Where am I? Oh god, oh god. Think Harper, think.

  My heartbeat is thundering in my chest, as I slowly start to come around and I gradually start to realise what is going on. J.D is hovering above me and shovelling sand over my body in a shallow grave.

  Shit, shit, shit! If he knows I’m alive and he didn’t succeed in killing me, he’ll finish me off, I know he will. I have to pretend I’m dead.

  I stay stock still, terrified he is going to realise any second, and I wait, petrified to even breathe. He continues shovelling sand over my bruised and battered body. I can hear his laboured breaths and muttering to himself how ‘the bitch deserved to fucking die’.

  Just hang in there boo, mummy will get us out, I promise, I think to myself and continue to wait. After what seems like a lifetime, I feel my whole body covered in sand and hold my breath as he shovels sand over my face.

  “Rest in peace, you fucking cunt!”

  I hear him spit on me and then there is silence, a deathly kind of silence. The sound of a car engine and a screech of tires breaks the silence. I wait a little longer, until I hear nothing but the sounds of the desert surrounding me, and I begin to claw my way out of the shallow grave. I desperately claw and dig my way out of the sand that is covering my body. I’m not sure how much time passes as I claw the remainder of the sand from my body and I let out the breath I was holding. It feels so good to breathe fresh air, and I relish the humid air on my skin. I look around in the eerie, inky darkness and I can see nothing but vast desert surrounding me. I pull my knees to my chest, and I sob gut-wrenching, desperate, wailing sobs. I’m trembling with fear, and I have no idea how I am going to survive through the night.

  I have no concept of time, but my survival instinct, and the need to protect my baby, suddenly kicks in. I can sit here sobbing, wallowing in my own self-pity, give up, and potentially die out here. Or I can pull myself together, get up, and at least try. I manage to get to my feet, and I feel dizzy. Then I remember, J.D stabbed me. I look down and feel the stiffness of dry blood on my clothes where he stabbed me through my left breastplate. Fuck. In my foggy brain, I start to remember a scene from the film Romeo and Juliet, where Mercutio is stabbed, and I begin to softly chant, “It’s just a scratch; it’s just a scratch.”

  I take a deep breath, pull up my big girl pants, and begin to walk.

  My thoughts are racing at a mile a minute, and I realise I need a plan. What am I going to do when I find a road? How am I going to get help without attracting attention? Is anyone actually out looking for me? Who can I call? Shit. I can’t call Sam; I fucking hate him with every fibre of my being right now, for telling J.D to kidnap me. I thought he fucking loved me?

  My heart clenches at the thought, and I try to get my thoughts in check. I need to think straight.

  I can’t call Ruby because of her connection with Jax, or Seb or my family, at least not yet. Think Harper, think. Remy, Remy Logan, Ruby’s brother. He lives out here in America, the last I heard, and he told me to look him up if I was ever over here. He lives in Santa Monica, but I know he also has a house in Henderson, not too far from Las Vegas and I know for certain he would come right away if I needed him.

  After what seems like an eternity, I hear the dull sound of traffic. A road! A fucking road! My feet are throbbing, but I have to keep going. I can’t give up, I just can’t. I keep walking until the sound of traffic and civilisation gets louder with each step I take, and I smile to myself.

  “We’re going to be alright boo, I promise.”

  I stroke my stomach protectively and I am filled with the hope that everything will be alright. I follow the road for what seems like forever, and I find myself in what looks like a small town. In the pre-dawn light, I see a small motel, the lights indicating its name, The Boulder Dam Hotel. I look around for a pay phone, and I spot one to the right of the entrance, concealed from the reception area. I make my way over to the pay phone and read the instructions indicated on the wall. I press zero for the operator.

  “Hello, you have reached the operator, how may I be of assistance?”

  I clear my throat and try to suppress the sob I feel threatening to overwhelm every sane thought in my head.

  “Hello, Erm...I need a telephone number for Remy Logan, please?”

  There is a slight pause, and I start to panic that the call has dropped.

  “Yes of course ma’am, do you require the Henderson property or the Santa Monica property?”

  I breathe a sigh of relief at the sound of the woman’s voice.

  “Erm...The Henderson property, please.”

  She recites the number off to me.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with, ma’am?”

  “Yes, I need to make a collect call to the number you just gave me, please?”

  After a few minutes, the operator informs me that Remy has accepted the charges for the call. The phone begins to ring, and I am so overwhelmed, I start sobbing into the receiver.

  “Hello.”

  Remy’s deep voice fills my ears, and I try to get myself together.

  “Hello?” he says again, and I swallow.

  “Remy.”

  There is a pause.

  “Who’s this?”

  “Rem, it’s Peyton, I need your help.”

  “Peyton, what the fuck, is this some sort of sick fucking joke?”

  He raises his voice, and I start to sob softly.

  “Remy, it’s really me; please, don’t hang up. Please, I need you to help me.”

  I hear him take a deep breath on the other end of the phone.

  “It can’t be you; the news says you were murdered.”

  I suddenly start to feel so angry at him. How could he possibly not recognise my voice?

  “You took my virginity, and then a year later you fucked off to the army, without even saying goodbye. Rem, how could you not recognise my god damn voice? I listened to our song ‘Here Without You’ by 3 Doors Down, on repeat, for three fucking months solid after you left, because I couldn’t think of anything else but you. You were my first, and you broke my fucking heart, Remy Jeremiah Logan. How could you ever even doubt it’s me?” I snap.

  I hear a sharp intake of breath at the use of his full name and the story of our break up.

  “Fuck me, it really is you, Peyton.”

  A feeling of relief washes over me that he actually believes that it is me.

  “Please, please don’t tell Ruby, no one can know, Rem, promise me,” I plead.

  “I won’t tell a soul, I promise. Fuck me, are you ok, beaut? Are you hurt?”

  His voice laced with concern, and I let out a strangled sob.

  “I...I’ve...b...been stabbed, Rem, and I think my wrist is broken. Please, please I need you to help me.”

  “Fuck,” he curses.

  “Look, I’m coming to get you, where are you?”

  I look around for any indication of where I am.

 
“I…I don’t know, Rem.”

  I feel myself start to panic.

  “Listen to me, beaut, try not to panic. I know it's difficult, but I need you to take a few deep breaths and keep calm for me. Can you do that? Tell me what you can see from where you are right now?” he soothes softly.

  I try to collect myself and look around again, taking in my surroundings.

  “Erm…I’m using a payphone outside a hotel, it has a sign outside, The Boulder Dam Hotel?”