Page 128 of Chaos

My sweet little girl gives me the grabby hands as I pull her and the car seat out.

Every day it’s a different vehicle. I wish I knew how long this musical chairs motorcade was going to last.

They all keep giving me vague answers about the Reapers.

I think it still has something to do with Brody after the fight.

Maeve is just settling into her highchair for a snack when I hear the unmistakable rumble of Nikolai’s Hellcat pull in.

When the knock comes, I don’t know if I want to answer it. It’s so hard seeing Jax.

But, I also won’t deny him his daughter, no matter how heartbreaking it is.

As the door opens, I’m left speechless.

“Hiya, Sof. Sorry I’m late.” His words are slurred coming out of his swollen mouth.

He looks like he’s been hit by a truck. The entire side of his face is purple, and I can’t even see one of his eyes.

“What the hell, Jax?” Instinct has me reaching forward and almost touching his cheek when I pause.

No. It isn’t my place anymore. Curling my fingers until my nails dig into my palm, I let it fall to my side.

He limps as he steps past me, with one arm firmly wrapped around his ribs.

My chest hurts looking at him. “What happened?” Following him into the kitchen, I feel like grabbing him and spinning him around to make him answer me. I know it won’t do any good.

“Just work.” He starts to squat in front of a wide-eyed Maeve, but stops with a grimace.

She watches him warily like she doesn’t recognize him.

“Hi, baby girl. I think you’ve grown since the last time I saw you.” He brushes one of her curly locks away from her temple, making her smile.

“Dadda.” Her hands raise, begging him to pick her up.

He groans as he picks her up, then gingerly steps over the couch while talking to her.

Their curly heads touch at the forehead and it makes me nearly cry.

His face relaxes as he tucks her under his neck and holds her tightly.

She stuffs her thumb in her mouth and settles against him, closing her eyes with a look of absolute bliss.

Why did he have to ruin this? He could always have these moments.

My throat chokes up watching them.

I hate that he did this to us.

Wanting to hold him, both of them, brings stinging tears and a knot in my throat that I can’t swallow.

When the sob escapes, he looks over and his brow furrows.

I can’t handle this. He needs time with her and seeing them together is just too agonizing.

Turning, I run up the stairs and collapse into the bed as shuddering cries fall out of me. Why, even after the damage he caused, do I still miss him so damn bad? That all I can think about is running back down there and covering him with kisses and begging him to stay?

My pillow is covered in mascara and my nose is runny when I hear a soft tapping on the bedroom door.