Remember Me: Oakville Series:Book Two (29 page)

“If Amber is off somewhere with Jax, then where is the skank bitch, Leena?” Becky asks.

“I’m not really sure. No one has seen her since she left Kyle last night. I’ve got my guys looking for her though,” Beasley responds, sounding a little defeated. She probably knows where Jax and Amber are. I also imagine she knows what exactly it is he wants from Amber.

“When we find her, give us five minutes alone with her. We’ll find out everything we need to know,” Holly promises, gesturing between herself and Becky. These women scare me sometimes. She has an evil look on her face, as if she’s imagining torturing Leena.

“Only if I have front row seats to the show, Red. I’d love to see the two of you beat some answers outta her. Cat fight!” Angel says as he quickly dodges a punch in the arm from Holly and a smack in the head from Becky. Paul, Marcus, and Beasley are shaking their heads and smiling. Even when the last thing I feel like doing is smiling, this group always knows how to put one on my face. The only thing missing is Amber. How did my life get so damn messed up?

I
OPEN
my eyes and quickly close them again. When the sunlight hits them, it makes my head feel like someone’s in there banging around with a hammer. That much wine and crying yourself to sleep on the beach in direct sunlight, not a good idea. Now I feel worse than I did before, if that’s at all possible. My heart can’t decide what to feel. One minute, I’m devastated, my heart shattering into a million pieces all over again. How can I go on without my babies? Without Kyle? The next, I’m so pissed off I just want to beat on everything in sight. Pissed at myself for not being able to keep my babies safe. Pissed at my body for failing me. Pissed at the doctors for not being able to do more. In my head, I know there’s nothing more I could’ve done to prevent what happened, but my heart just doesn’t get it yet. Most of all, pissed at Kyle for leaving me here to deal with all of this by myself. He’s supposed to be by my side, but he chose to be with her. That alone gets my blood boiling. I’m startled from my thoughts when someone touches my shoulder. I turn to look and see Jax looking sympathetically at me.

“You’ve been gone a long time. I was getting worried.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you getting hungry? I thought I would grill us some steaks.”

“That sounds really good.”

“I’ll go back and get started. Come back when you feel like it,” he says as he squeezes my shoulder before turning to walk back toward the path leading to the house. How could I doubt him? He’s been nothing but sweet to me. I feel like such an ass for even considering his intentions were bad. Some friend I am.

I look at my surroundings before I get up and head back to the house. It’s amazing here, so beautiful and peaceful. Paradise is the word that comes to my mind to describe it. The sand I sit in is clean and white, like something you’d see in a vacation brochure. Clear blue water is all I can see for miles in front of me. There’s a slight breeze coming off the water that keeps me from getting too hot. Now that the sun is starting to set, it’s even more beautiful. Being here makes me wish Kyle was here with me. Then I remember why he isn’t and I am angry all over again. Before the tears start up again, I get up, brush the sand off my ass, and walk back to the house.

As I get closer to the house, I start to smell the steaks on the grill. It isn’t until then that I realize how hungry I really am. Once I come to the end of the pathway, the back of the house comes into view. I gasp at the sight. The tiki torches scattered around the backyard are all lit, the table is covered with food with a bottle of wine chilling in the center. Jax turns and gives me a nervous smile.

“I hope it’s not too much. I noticed you haven’t eaten much since you left the hospital. I thought maybe the walk and the sun gave you an appetite.” He has always been very perceptive.

“Thanks, Jax, I appreciate it. I am starving. It all looks so good.”

“Check this out.” He lifts the lid to the grill and my mouth starts to water. Not only do the filets look amazing but he’s also grilling shrimp and scallop skewers. There’s also something wrapped in aluminum foil. He sees me looking and carefully opens it a little so I can peek inside. Another one of my favorites, grilled mushrooms. This is really nice of him. Cooking all of my favorites and trying to cheer me up as much as he can.

“Do I have time to take a quick shower?”

“Yeah. It should all be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you for all of this and being such a good friend,” I tell him before walking into the house.

While in the shower, I allow my tears to freely flow. If I didn’t keep myself from crying, I honestly think I could do it all day long. It feels like the tears are endless. My heart wants me to lock myself away in a dark room and cry forever until I can’t cry anymore. My head knows I can’t do that. No good would come out of me giving up on life. My children wouldn’t want that for me. I have children. I’m a mother. How do I answer when someone asks, “Do you have any kids?” If I say yes, they’ll have more questions and I’ll have to explain that they passed away. Then that’s when I’ll get that look. The one that’s a cross between you poor woman and get me outta here before I have to talk anymore. Maybe it’s because they aren’t sure of exactly what to say and they’re afraid to say the wrong thing and upset me. It could be that they don’t want me to remind them that terrible things can happen to normal people. That life isn’t always as perfect as we want it to be. I knew there was a chance that we could lose one, but never in a million years did I ever think I would leave the hospital childless. Why would God bless me with triplets and take them all away? One being taken, I may have been able to understand. He never gives us more than we can handle, right? Now, I’m not so sure of that. I’ve heard of a motherless child, but I’m a childless mother.

That thought puts me over the edge and I slide to the floor, sobbing with my face in my hands. I would rather feel the pain of my body smashing through the windshield of that truck over and over again than the pain I feel right now. The accident hurt so much less and I can explain why that happened, why I was in the pain I was in. This pain can’t be explained. No one can tell me why this happened. The medical reasons only explain so much. I want to know why me? What did I do to deserve this? Why am I being punished?

“Amber. Are you okay in there?” Jax yells after he knocks on the bathroom door. I’ve probably been in here a lot longer than fifteen minutes. No doubt, he also heard me crying. He’s going to think I’m a weak mess. Who am I trying to kid? I am a weak mess.

“I’m fine. I’ll be out in just a minute,” I yell back as steadily as I can. I pull myself together and get out of the shower. I quickly dry off and throw on a t-shirt, cargo shorts, and flip flops. I towel dry my hair, put it in a messy bun, and I’m good to go.

Dinner is wonderful. I had forgotten what a great cook Jax is. He keeps the conversation light and doesn’t bring up whether or not he heard my breakdown in the shower. For that, I’m grateful. We talk about when I was a kid and my grandparents. He knows all of these things, but I suppose he’s trying to keep my mind on happier things. He’s never talked to me about what his life was like growing up. I’ve always wondered. Every time I ever asked him, he’d change the subject. Feeling emboldened, I ask again, hopeful he’s willing to talk about it now.

“What about you? All these years you’ve never told me about how you grew up or even where.” The smile immediately falls from his face, replaced by a pained expression. I immediately regret asking, but before I can take it back, he starts to speak.

“What is there to know? My mother was junkie who would do anything and anyone for her next fix. I never knew my father. He was married when he knocked my mother up. He traveled for work and didn’t live in the same town. I don’t think he ever knew about me,” he says, sounding like a broken little boy. I get up, walk to his side of the table, and slide in next to him. I grab his hand.

“I’m sorry, Jax. No child should ever have to be unhappy.” He smiles a sad smile and continues his tale. The things his mother was capable of made me ill. Leaving him alone for days or with strangers who could’ve done anything they wanted to the poor kid. He was the parent. Always taking care of her and himself until she overdosed when he was sixteen.

“Did you ever try to find your father?”

“After she died, I found some papers. My mom had gone to my dad’s parents and asked for money. I found out later they were loaded. He died when I was very young so she figured she’d cash in. She was so stupid, though. She only got enough money to support her habit for a couple weeks. She could have at least gotten enough to get clean and keep us living decent. She signed these papers saying she wouldn’t come back for more.”

“Didn’t they want to know you? Be a part of your life?”

“I think so. Knowing my mom, she was the one who wouldn’t allow it, but they could have fought and they didn’t. They had another grandchild that was obviously more important.” That’s terrible. I can’t imagine not wanting anything to do with your own flesh and blood. He continues, telling me how he collected all of the information he could on his grandparents and this half-sister. The way he talks about secretly following his sister around causes chills to run down my spine. He was suspicious as to whether or not they were even related, which in itself is very odd. So to make things even creepier he somehow manages a DNA test and finds out she isn’t his biological sister.

“It really pissed me off to find out all this time they tossed me, their real grandson, aside for a fake granddaughter. That’s how I ended up in Atlanta. I followed her there.” There is something in his voice and the way he looks at me that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. It can’t be? What are the chances that there’s another girl raised by grandparents that aren’t biologically hers that moved to Atlanta at the same time I did? Pretty fucking slim, if you ask me.. My stomach begins to roll as sweat builds on my brow.

“What are you saying, Jax? Was Charles your father?” I ask even though I know the answer. There’s something different in his eyes, like he’s had a mask on for the seven years I’ve known him and now it’s gone. He doesn’t look at me with kind friendly eyes any longer. There’s hate and resentment looking back at me now.

“You had the life I should’ve had. My grandparents, my happiness, and most of all, my money,” he says, his voice full of disgust.

“What is it you want from me? Why would you pretend to be my friend for so many years?”

“I figured the only way to get what is rightfully mine was to get close to you. After I tried to reason with the Lewis’ and they wouldn’t get rid of you, I decided I’d just have to be patient.” The thought that he actually went to them and tried to make them choose him over me makes me sick.