Page 14

An image of her breasts bouncing beneath me and her small whimpers flash through my mind. I need it again and for it to never stop. I will never have enough.

Chase continues to bicker, but Luna’s replies slow with each shout. The librarian has to hush him multiple times until she’s fed up and gives him the boot. His friend trots along with him, but not before giving Luna a death glare. Feeling a bit brave, I pull my hood over my head and round the corner of the aisle I’m in. I turn my head slightly, seeing Luna from the corner of my eye already staring. My face is hidden from the angle and the hood. Even if she saw it, it’s not like she’d know. She wouldn’t recognize me.

“Hey,” Luna calls out to me. I wave a hand at her but don’t stop. My steps quicken. “Hey!” She calls out once more. Louder this time.

I hear small steps behind me. Well, shit.

I sprint outside and pull a balaclava from my pocket, sliding it over my head just as she exits the library. I keep one on me at all times, ever since getting out of prison because I never know if the wrong person is going to be around the corner.

“Do I know you?” Luna asks me when she gets outside. Her eyes widened with what she thought was realization. My head shakes from side to side and her shoulders deflate. That spunk she had dissipating into thin air. I fear if I speak, she will remember me—the voice that groaned into her ear in the middle of the woods, the voice that whispered to her to be a good girl.

“My mistake. Sorry to bother you,” she says softly before returning to the library.

Every time that I step foot onto this campus, I know I don’t belong. Every part of my body knows. The other people who give me scared glances know. Walking toward downtown, my hood still up and my head down. Strangers on the street swivel their feet around me because I’m the asshole who doesn’t move out of the way. Commentary fills my ears from angry passersby.

Watch where you’re going. Open your eyes. Excuse me.

Until I hear something that stops me in my tracks, I’m frozen still like a statue.

“Jax? Jaxy, is that you?” The use of that name. There’s only one person in my life to call me that. One person who could tell me apart from the rest of the world even in disguise.

“Mama?” I turn around to face the woman who gave me life. Her cherry-cola red hair frames her face. Mama’s eyebrows are drawn on, her eyelashes almost meeting them, and her bright green eyes are ones I could remember forever. I pull the balaclava from my face and her eyes light up at the sight of me.

She steps closer and wraps her arms around me. I lean my head on the top of hers and breathe in the calming scent of her. Flowery and sweet. Being in Mama’s embrace feels like home and safety. It’s not something that I feel often enough. My heart does something funny in my chest.

“What are you doing here?” I mumble into her head. “How did you find me here?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she chirps back as she pulls away to look me in the eyes. “My, my. Have you grown up,” she whispers more to herself than me. Water builds in her eyes, and all the shame, guilt, and betrayal I’ve buried comes barreling into my mind at full speed like a bull.

Shame for spending years away from her, leaving her all alone.

Guilt for never picking up a damn phone when escaping prison.

And betrayal for the latter. She turned away from the police. All she ever wanted was to see me, and I shut the door, nearly losing the damn key.

“You’ve gotten real tall, baby. You’re a full-grown man.” A tear escapes, running down her cheek.

Every time she tried to see me in prison, I wouldn’t let her. I told them no and I would escape her visits until she gave up. But can I blame her for giving up on me when I gave up on her? She lost her husband and her son.

“Mama, please, don’t cry,” I beg.

She looks at me again. Really looks at me and her eyes widen. Mama moves her fingers to my face to trace over the scar. My teeth clench tight, grinding against each other as her fingers touch my most vulnerable place. Someone could punch me in the dick and I’d be less mad than my scar being touched.

“What happened here, Jaxy?” Her voice is soft. So soft. It’s almost like if she speaks up, she’ll break. This is what I was trying to save her from.

One thing I can and will always admit is that, until the day I die, I need my Mama— even if I pushed her away. Unhinged, ruthless, and destructive down to the bone I am, but at the end of the day, I will crumble into her arms. I will feel secure. I’ll feel like the man that I should have been.

Lord knows I should have been a better man, but after all, I didn’t have a picture-perfect father figure.

“Let’s get off the street,” I tell her. She nods as she continues to fight the tsunami of feelings washing over her like the waves crashing on the shore.

nine

JAX

Mama strolls around my apartment. Fingers trace over bare surfaces. “It’s sad in here,” she observes.

“I don’t have much money. I can only buy what I absolutely need and nothing extra,” I explain. A small lie because I’d left small gifts for Luna, and those hidden cameras too, but I would spend my last dime on her.