Were…The word lingers heavy in the silence.
I keep my eyes averted for a moment, stung by his words before swallowing hard, I force myself to meet his gaze and ask, "Where is our daughter?"
Logan puts his defenses up at the sudden change of subject as he crosses his arms over his chest and states, “Showing her grandpa her new room, you ain’t leaving.”
I look down at my bare feet. He just doesn’t want to lose his daughter, and rightfully so. Her room comes back to me—her room, fit for a princess.
I went to wake Aisling, ready to take her home but was shocked at the room she was in. She was already awake, wanting some milk but I couldn’t help but look around her room, seeing everything Logan has done for her in just two weeks. My heart sank because in the five years since she was born, I haven’t given her even a quarter of that.
I love my little girl so much, but have I been punishing her by keeping her with me?
She has a real bed for a child her age, not a mattress on the floor like at home. She’s got a closet full of clothes in her size, not second-hand ones that are two sizes too big. Toys, books, everything. Christ, I’d bet she even has hot water in her en suite.
He’s given her so much when I haven’t managed to give her any of that.
So am I punishing her?
I feel like I am, and every bit of me aches with the realization and even though his dad knows about her, I know Logan will keep her safe despite what I said with anger downstairs, allowing my mouth to run with the hurt I felt.
I squeeze my eyes tightly and murmur, “I have a life back in Huntingdon, Logan. I need to go back.”
“You are not fucking taking my daughter back to that dump!” he growls, and I flinch.
“That dump is my home, that I fought for with blood and tears,” I lie through my teeth, my pride taking one hell of a bruising right now.
“I don’t give a shit, she’s not going, end of!” he snaps, his voice full of authority.
I nod, take a deep breath, and, my heart shattering piece by piece—the same as when I left Logan—I walk toward the door. Just before passing him, I whisper, “I’ll allow her to stay until I can get enough money together to buy a better apartment in Huntingdon. Then we’ll set up a childcare schedule but if word gets out about her to my mother, or even yours, then I’ll take her back whether you like it or not, I didn’t sacrifice my life to keep her safe and you, just for you to get her harmed.”
The decision tugs between sacrifice and heartbreak but it’s about time I put Aisling first because right now, seeing what he has to offer her, I feel like I haven’t put her first.
With my chin wobbling, I continue my path to find my daughter, but tense when he says tensely, “I won’t fucking repeat myself you are not leaving, I’ve already locked all the doors and windows and the fact you are willing to leave your own child, it proves you certainly are not the woman I fucking thought you were all those years ago, it makes you a selfish bitch!”
Wow.
I flinch hard at his words, my tears falling unseen as I keep walking beyond his bedroom. The ache sharpens—knowing I’ll have to stay in the guest room tonight since he’s locked me in. Tomorrow, as his angry words echo in my head, I’ll figure out what to do. I realize, with painful clarity, that even friendship between us may be impossible now, anger and resentment filling the space between us.
I was trying to do right by my daughter and him, only to fail everyone.
Chapter 19
Tank – Two Weeks Later
I lean my head back against the wall as I dangle my arms over my bent knees and watch as Jasmine sleeps, her chest slowly moving, and guilt, so fucking much guilt, consumes me.
“I won’t fucking repeat myself, you are not leaving, I’ve already locked all the doors and windows, and the fact you are willing to leave your own child proves you certainly are not the woman I fucking thought you were all those years ago; it makes you a selfish bitch!”
I flinch involuntary of the memory, my words from two weeks ago loop in my mind and make me sick. I didn’t mean them, I really fucking didn’t but my anger took over when I saw just how much she’s seen how much she’s struggled alone. Seeing the defeat and pain written on her face, I could feel my frustrationbuilding, already predicting she was about to say something that would set me off.
I knew she was going to try to leave Aisling here and head back to Huntingdon, thinking she’d be better off with me, even though Dad came here and she thought Mama was behind him.
I panicked, hoping my words would keep her here but of course the words came out harsh and heartbreaking and now, after two fucking weeks of silence, I’m at a loss at what to do.
I haven’t truly been pissed at her for leaving or breaking my heart. I’m too busy trying to make her stay but she still says things that trigger my anger, like joking with my dad about my stubbornness setting me off.
“My son loves to be a stubborn idiot sometimes, he always has been, especially when he was a kid,” my dad jokes as he makes himself a coffee like he owns the place, and I roll my eyes.
More like I didn’t want to crash his bike at the age of fucking ten into the club building, which I ended up doing after I gave in.
