Page 9 of Where You Left Me

Not just time. Not just the years. But our baby girl.

Aster.

Sweet Aster. Who wasn’t big enough to breathe on her own. Who wasn’t strong enough to live on her own.

But who was a part of us. A part of Jones and me. And when she left us, I didn’t know how to beuswithout her.

The song ends and my head pounds. I swipe the tears from my cheeks. Jones gives me a look that shows he understands. But suddenly resentment bubbles its way through the surface of sadness and pain. Grief has no process. It’s not linear. It rears its ugly head in different emotions and ways.

Tonight, at this moment, it chooses indignation. And I find myself wanting to take it out on Jones. I don’t want to carry this pain or burden alone. Keeping it a secret has been killing me.

“Interesting song choice,” Jones mumbles to just me.

But I respond into the mic. “That was a perfect song choice for two old lovers, don’t y’all think?”

The crowd cheers.

“Hey, sweetie, why don’t we get some water,” Cammie whispers.

I ignore her and continue. “Especially two old lovers who now hate each other.”

Jones glares at me. “Oh, c’mon now, honey, I wouldn’t say we hate each other.” He tries to play it off, forcing a smile toward the crowd. “I’d still take you home tonight.”

“Now why would I want you to do that? You might end up knocking me up again.”

“Shit,” Jones grumbles.

“And I don’t think either of us wants to go through losing another baby,” I blurt, stumbling over the wordbaby.

Jones’s scowl turns into a cold, haunting look. Something I don’t know I’ll ever be able to shake from my memory. It sends a shiver shooting down my spine.

“I guess you decided we’re going public with that shit.”

My lip quivers and another tear slips out my eye from the corner.

All this time I had assumed Jones told everyone about the baby. About Aster.

But the realization that maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he never toldanyone. It’s too much. It causes my stomach to upturn and acid to crawl up my throat.

I give him an impish look and rest my hand flat against my stomach. I should tell him I’m sorry, but instead, I shove the mic at his chest and stagger off the stage.

“Sweetie, you okay?” Cammie braces me with an arm around my middle.

I shake my head as an acidic taste pools in my mouth. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Yes! Now it’s a party,” Rosie says, a wide smile on her face.

“Alright, I’ve got her,” Jones grunts, suddenly next to me, and swapping places with Cammie. “No one’s making a mess in my bar.”

The room spins while Jones hoists me up into his arms and I have no choice but to cling to him. He’s solid and safe. Something I haven’t felt in too long.

“Maverick, watch the bar,” Jones calls over his shoulder.

He carries me to the back of the bar where there’s a door followed by a flight of stairs. He takes them easily all while holding me tight against his chest. His woodsy scent is seductive. The whooshing in my head lessens once we reach the darkened upstairs apartment. It’s cool and quiet.

“Jones?” I whisper into his neck.

“Shhh, I’ve got you, Peaches.”

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