Page 71 of Heartbreaker

Chapter 28

Jackson

I stumble to the kitchen and pull open the fridge, it’s empty, except for some fermenting fruit with fur and some milk that does not pass the sniff test. I decide to forgo food, I’m not hungry anyway, so I grab a beer, slam the door and walk unsteadily back to the living room.

My hair is greasy, I haven’t showered in days and I have the start of a pretty good beard. I don’t care though. I don’t care about anything anymore. The only thing I care about is her and I have let her down so badly that I don’t even deserve to share the air she breathes.

Picking up my phone I put on the playlist I have created like some fifteen-year-old girl. It is all the songs we texted each other, everyone that comes on reminds me of her in some way. The night we went out on our first date and she teased me about eating like a slob.

The weekend we spent in Disney, every song has a meaning, it tells the story of our short time together. Just a few months but the happiest of my life. She had taken the man I was and made him better, made him fun and brought out all the things I buried so deep, scared to show weakness, and be laughed at.

My Tinkerbell had taken the man scared of fun, scared of letting go, and made him fun again, shown him that life was for living and that every day was a gift to be treasured. But in the end, I had bailed on her.

I had known my job would be an issue and still I had hidden it knowing that if she had found out she would leave me. Was that why I had done it, was it a self-fulfilling prophecy? I knock back a swig of beer and my stomach roils. Leaning my head back on the back of the couch I fold my arm over my face and lie there listening as the music washes over me.

It is a balm and a curse, the words ripping a hole in my soul deep enough to bury any chance I had of a future or at least any meaningful future, with her. I know deep down that I am drunk, and part of this melancholy is alcohol induced but being sober means facing up to what a cowardly piece of crap I am. Just like my old man, when the going gets tough Jackson gets going.

I have become the man I hate, the man who nearly broke my mother, the kindest most loving woman a man could ask for, and he took her heart and smashed it into the ground, when he walked away and left us.

I can still remember her crying every night for weeks and weeks after he left. I swore then that I would never be like him. Then I swore I would never be a weak fool again, falling for peoples lies and I broke both of those vows.

My phone pings beside me and I grab it, holding it up to see who it is. A tiny dart of hope that it is Ashley fades when I see Jakes name.

Jake: Clean yourself up, mums on her way over. And for God’s sake open some windows.

I throw the phone down and groan, fucks sake I can’t cope with mum right now. I know it’s a waste of time messaging him back if mum has decided, then she has decided. She is small, but she is mighty.

I walk slowly to the bathroom. Shedding my clothes I step into the still cold shower, the ice-cold water hits my skin like tiny pinpricks, making me shiver. I let the cold water wash away my booze induced haze, before turning it to scolding hot and cleaning away the dirt of the last few days.

I quickly dry off and throw on shorts and a t-shirt, leaving my feet bare and my hair wet. Crossing to the kitchen I start a pot of coffee. The doorbell rings a few minutes later and I walk lethargically to answer it.

Pulling open the door I see my mother standing there, her face determined as she takes me in, nodding as she pushes past me.

“This house smells like a cheap bar,” she states as she goes into the kitchen and straight to my cupboards taking out mugs and plates. She then starts to unpack a shopping bag she has with her, it has all the makings for a full English breakfast.

“Nice to see you to mum,” I say sarcastically. She raises a perfectly arched brow at me, that says I’m not too old for a wallop then ignored my comment.

“Why are you home moping when that poor baby girl of yours has been through such a thing?” I sit at the island, my head in my hands silently. “Well?’ she says when I don’t answer.

“I fucked up mum, I fucked up big.”

“Well of course you did, we all do sometimes. It had to happen, you’re only human.”

“No, you don’t understand,”

“Well then make me understand my boy,” she says as she comes around to me placing her hand on my face, her eyes so full of love that I feel it to my bones.

“We had a fight about my job.”

“Ah so she found out then.”

“Wait! what? You know about my job?” I ask cautiously.

“Of course, I know. I’m your mother, a mother knows everything. I blame that cheap little floozy Jade. She was always a wrong ‘un, though she was better than everyone, her folks were the same.”

“Are you ashamed?” I ask incredulously.

“Ashamed that you built up a successful business from scratch with nothing but your wits and your hard work? Don’t be ridiculous son. I wouldn’t have chosen that field myself but ashamed? Never. Both my boys make me proud every day.”