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There were too many bad memories. Ones she’ll never be able to scrub from her mind. She wished she could.
She really didn’t want to rip herself open and expose her fears but when he reached over and brushed his fingers over hers and, fuck, even though she liked it and it sent warmth through her like drinking a shot of whiskey, she still pulled her hand away and curled her fingers tightly into her palm.
Maybe if he had a better understanding, he’d back off.
“I drove past the house on my way home tonight.”
He remained quiet but his hand remained on the arm of her chair. As if he was keeping it close in case she needed it.
She waited for him to ask what house. When he didn’t, she realized he knew which one. What happened was common knowledge among the current Fury members, especially the ones who grew up in the club, like Cage had.
“When I do it all rushes back.”
His voice was deep, but quiet, when he said, “Then don’t do it.”
Don’t do it. She wished it was that easy.
“I can’t. I’m not sure why, but I can’t. I know I shouldn’t. I pull up anyway, sit out front and relive everything I heard and saw in that house from the moment I could remember. Then it brings the nightmares back.”
At least a half dozen officers pointing guns in her direction wasn’t even the worst one. She tried to swallow but her throat had tightened.
“Every time I come home, I have nightmares of the father who didn’t deserve me. And nightmares about the father who did.”
“Walt.”
“Yes, it’s one reason I don’t come home often or, when I do, don’t stay long. This has been the longest I’ve been home since I moved away.”
“Doin’ it for me.”
“For Dyna,” she reminded him. “Let me explain why I agreed to come here for Dyna and to help you. You chose to keep her instead of giving her up. Was that selfish? Maybe. Was it selfless? Possibly. I don’t know. Time will tell. But I came because Judge asked me to help you since you had no clue what you were doing but you wanted to try. And I didn’t want a child to suffer. I hope my time here makes a difference, even if only a little, for you and Dyna.”
“Jem...”
She shook her head. She needed to get this out and over. “At five, I thought my father loved me. His actions proved otherwise. Did it hurt? Yes. Will I ever forget it? No.”
She knew his story, too. It was similar. His mother up and leaving both of her sons because she’d had enough with the club. She didn’t take her boys with her. She never came back. She never called or visited. She scraped her family clean.
A mother who loved her children didn’t do that. Dutch, at least, fought to keep his sons. He might not have been the perfect father, but he loved them. He cared for them the best way he could.
The same way his own son was doing with his granddaughter.
The best he could.
Maybe it wouldn’t be perfect, but as long as Dyna felt loved and cared for... then she’d be okay.
She didn’t need to mention any of this to the man who had experienced his mother abandoning him. He’d lived it.
He felt the pain and betrayal firsthand.
Just like Jemma had when she couldn’t ignore the truth.
The truth being, she’d been held in her father’s arms, not because he loved her and wanted a hug, but because she was a tool for him to ensure his own safety.
Ox was a selfish bastard.
So was Bebe, Cage and Rook’s mother.
Her story wasn’t over yet. “Walter was more of a father to me than Ox ever was. Then I helplessly watched the father who loved me and never disappointed me suffer away to nothing. I stayed by his side until he took his last rattled breath. I held his hand until it went cold. I closed the lids on his sightless eyes. I kissed his hollowed, paled cheek. I whispered goodbye to someone who could no longer hear me.
“I lost two fathers in ways a daughter should never lose them. But I relive how Walt died. How he suffered at the end. How I felt helpless and could do nothing but watch him wither to a shell of the man I loved deeply and finally die. All I could do was comfort him in the end. That’s all any of us could do. Be with him, let him know we loved him. Ensure he knew our lives would never be the same when he was gone.”
She closed her eyes and waited for the sharp sting to pass.
“It’s why you became a nurse,” came softly from beside her.
“It’s why I became a hospice nurse. If it wasn’t for Walt’s, he would’ve suffered even worse. His hospice nurse became my heroine. I was amazed at how she could remain so strong while witnessing so much death and sorrow. Do you know Lottie is still friends with her?”
