CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
AUBREY
JAX and I still went back to see the kids that day and tried to make the most of it.
Everything was different though.
I was different.
When we got back to my apartment, we tried to unwind by getting lost in each other.
It didn’t work.
After showering, I found him on the couch, working on his app.
“It’s almost been a month since you went to see him. The anniversary of my mother’s death is approaching.”
Snapping steely blue eyes my way, Jax nodded as he gauged my reaction and tried to process where my head was at before he responded. “Okay.”
“So, you’re going again soon?”
He shifted on the couch and removed his feet from the ottoman. “Peaches, let’s not do this now.”
“Do what?”
“Fight about him after the fucking terrible day we’ve had.”
I looked toward the ceiling. “I wish I could stop thinking about it but I can’t. You told me to start making days better a little at a time. You know what I thought about? Him. How Ollie had to be a victim to someone even remotely like him.”
Jax winced.
“You go visit a man in prison just like Jerry. And you keep going like he means something to you.”
He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.
“Are you going to see him again soon?” I asked again.
He stared at me. The cold blue washed over me like a polar vortex blowing through. We were back on the battlefield, measuring one another’s army, attempting to figure out who would win and who had the upper hand.
“If you’re keeping tabs on why and when I go visit him, you can add in that I have the launch of my app coming up this weekend. I go visit him around every big event in my life.” Sarcasm and condescension dripped from his voice.
I stood over him, ready to attack, seething at his words. “Great that you’ve been able to share those big events with someone all these years other than me.”
“You wouldn’t have wanted me to share anything with you after I left you.”
“Really? How would you know when you didn’t ask?”
“I know—I called, Whitfield.”
“Oh my God!” I threw my hands up. “Are you counting the time you were so wasted you could barely string together a sentence?”
“I was never that drunk …”
My blood boiled from his denial. I stalked over to my laptop on the counter and typed in my password quickly.
“What are you doing?” He asked and I felt his body heat wrap around me as he looked over my shoulder. Even though I wanted to lean into him and forget the whole conversation, I couldn’t.
I put the voice mail on loud. His voice cackled through, slurring words of love and then telling me about his record deal. I let him hear the voice mail that haunted my dreams for years.