I miss her so fucking much, and moving on just seems like a fucking nightmare I don’t want to sleep through, yet I can’t keep living in despair, acting like I’m fine when I’m not.
Brady hums, “I know,” before asking, “has my uncle managed to get a hold of my sister about Granny’s will? Mama is going to contest it as soon as she hears about it, and to be honest, there’s a chance my dad will as well if only to get Jas to come home.”
Apparently, his dad has been actively searching for his daughter against his wife’s wishes, but even with his contacts, no one can find her, and a small part of me is beginning to believe she’s used her normal name, knowing we’d be searching for an alias, something I mentioned to Dirty last night when he begged to let him come today but I declined.
No one can understand why Madison doesn’t want to find her daughter, her hesitation. The first year Jas went missing, she had the fucking cops at my home four times to search the premises until they finally told her to stop wasting their time, that Jas left town, and after that, she claimed she didn’t have a daughter, yet her husband isn’t stopping.
He genuinely seems concerned, something even Brady was shocked about because apparently, he hasn’t paid much attention to his daughter over the years she lived at home, a home, Jas never mentioned in our relationship.
She never spoke about her childhood and neither did I and fuck me am I regretting it now.
“I spoke to him before the funeral, and he hasn’t gotten a hold of her as of yet. Turns out Matron getting rid of Jasmine’s new number fucked him up because he has no way to get a hold of her meaning, your parents may indeed get everything if they contest the will without Jasmine’s input,” I sigh as I run my hand through my hair that needs another cut, the thought of it being long giving me fucking hives while my phone buzzes for the ninth time since the funeral started.
Fucking Mama!
I’m going to end up blocking her number, something I tried not to do, the memory of her shoving a cigarette into my back at the age of seventeen, hitting me when I last did it, stopping me, but fuck, I can’t deal with her shit anymore.
I’ve reached past breaking point and dammit, I need my fucking girl to come home and the fact I’m still calling her my girl after six years, after declaring to my dad I was going to move on says a lot.
“They won’t, I’ll fucking make sure it all goes to the charity Granny chose if I have to, Mama isn’t getting her claws on that money,” Brady grunts and I raise a brow at him but he shrugs and admits, “She was a shitty mother and only cared about materialistic shit,” he looks around, “Though I am shocked my sister didn’t show, I really fucking am because Granny was more a mother to her than our own, fuck, religiously every Tuesday she’d spend two hours with her, yet she didn’t come…”
Disappointment etches off him, and I look around the room again, my eyes going to the end pew where I thought she was, but couldn’t see her sitting there yet.
“Your uncle was sitting at the back,” I mumble, and I scrunch my brows.
“And?” Brady questions with confusion.
“And, Granny wanted him right at the front next to you and me, so why in the fuck was he sitting in the back where I thought I could feel Jasmine’s eyes on me?” I inquire, and Brady curses.
“She was here!” he growls, and my whole body tenses with anger as he asks, “Why in the fuck didn’t she come and say goodbye? Why sit in the back?”
“Because she wants us to think she was selfish enough not to come.” I summarize, “She wanted us to hate her so we’d stop looking for her!”
Motherfucker.
“Dammit!” he snaps, then growls, “I’m going to go drive around to see if I can find her and get some fucking answers, you need to head to work!” before he walks away and storms out of the crematorium, slamming the door open with anger and frustration, while I freeze, my own words shocking me.
She…
Fucking hell, she really was here.
I swallow hard and look back at the photos, and pain consumes me as the cold, hard truth chokes me.
She didn’t want to speak to me…
***
“Everything sorted?” Doc asks as I walk out of the staff room half an hour later, putting on my white coat, making me look up. I nod as he looks at me with concern, but I ignore the look andcontinue my path towards the ER, and he follows me, making me roll my eyes.
I don’t need a talk right now, but knowing my pres, my friend, he’s going to fucking try to get me to open up like he does every chance he gets, especially considering I’ve dodged everyone.
I think I’ve been at the clubhouse once this week since Granny passed, and I shot the shit outta the willow tree in the yard. I haven’t spoken to any brothers, even though they have tried to contact me, especially Dirty, being the only brother to know what is going on, and I haven’t spoken to my parents, not that it’s much of a hardship.
Dad, he’s trying, I’ll give him that, but fuck, it’s just too little too late in my eyes, whereas Mama, she’s still adamant Kate and I are going to end up together, while her friend, the biggest fucking mistake of my life, hangs around like a bad smell.
“Brother,” Doc tries but I put my hand up as I walk through the double doors into the ER, ready to get lost in the chaos that I love, needing to get my mind off the woman who was in that crematorium but didn’t make herself known. The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced she was indeed there. She has to have been, I could fucking feel her and both Brady and I know Reg wouldn’t have sat at the back, he would have sat front and center with us to piss off the Williamses, fuck, they were already pissed that Brady sat with me.
The fucker, I guess, saw the light, where his so-called friend was concerned, who had apparently given a sob story about being heartbroken because Jas let him have her virginity then ran.
