Page 42 of Until Waverly

My mother pursed her lips, shaking her head. “I think you’re stuck in your anger and hurt and can’t see the truth in front of you yet.” She sighed. “I have a feeling when you finally realize what actually happened instead of what your mind is telling you to imagine, he’ll be gone for real.”

That thought hurt. My stomach cramped, and my appetite disappeared. Pushing away the box and tray, I frowned. “I saw what I saw, Ma. I can’t change that. I could never alter that reality. So, he’s staying at my apartment. So, he is taking care of Alandria for me. I know when I’m released from here, he’ll go right back to her and become a part-time father.”

“Are you saying that because you doubt him, or are you using that because you’re trying to justify your actions and not admit you could be wrong?”

Neither.

Both.

Instead of verbalizing anything, I sat there, wallowing in my grief and regret.

“Redman stubbornness. You get that from your father. What you need right now is a swift kick in the rear end. Now, I’ve been a pretty tolerant mother. I understood your reasoning for all of this to a point, young lady, but now you’re twenty years old. You have a daughter, and you have someone who cares about you. So, I’m going to give you a lesson in tough love.” She held her phone and muted my number. “Whatever you need from now on, you’re going to have to ask Jackson. Maybe, in a few weeks, you’ll wise up and realize communication is a two-way street, and you’re going the wrong way.”

She gathered the trash, and her things, then started for the door.

“Mom, wait. I—”

She shook her head. “No more. You lied to me. You fibbed to your father and your siblings. Even if you were doing so because you were hurt or by omission, it’s still a falsehood. It’s time to lay in that mess of your bed, Waverly. I’ll check in with Jackson. I’ll inform Mack, your father, and Macey of this development.” She closed her eyes. “I love you, Waverly, but sometimes you’re just too much like your father.”

With that, she walked out of my room, leaving me heartbroken and alone.

What am I going to do now?

Chapter14

Jackson

Waverly’s doctor ended up keeping her for another couple of nights. There were certain milestones she needed to make before she was released. The first, getting out of bed unassisted and the second, pain management without using IV drugs. Once she maintained both, smooth sailing. She could go home.

Sarah Jane called last night after I’d put Alandria down and asked me to pick up Waverly then bring her home once she was released. The answer was yes. The tension in her voice raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Something had happened after I left. However, I didn’t push. If Sarah Jane wanted me to know, she’d tell me. When she was ready.

I felt like a bit of an asshole after I’d hammered Waverly with questions. For a second or two, my anger had taken over, and I’d forgotten the hell she’d been through. When she clicked the button for her pain meds, I knew it was the combo of soreness and her dismissing me without having to say another word. I didn’t blame her. She had nowhere to go. Seeing her after a little more than a year fucked me up. I lost my cool and left her no choice.

Didn’t stop me from trying to apologize to her with meals I cooked. Hospital food was shit. After receiving the list of items that would help in her recovery, I went grocery shopping. I wanted to make sure Waverly had everything she’d need.

At the end of the conversation with Sarah Jane, she let me know Mack Sr. would be watching Alandria for me while I picked up Waverly. Which left meal prep. I made as many dishes as I could, knowing full well the first few days Waverly was home would be slow going. Then I made one last bottle for the night and got Alandria ready for bed.

My daughter, I’d found out, was a little hellion. She lulled me with those beautiful blue-green eyes and her sweet toothless smile. Then struck when I wasn’t looking. Even growing up with my sister and being a redhead myself, nothing prepared for such a young baby having a fiery temper to match mine. Alandria was a true redhead.

Especially, if I was late getting her bottle.

You’d think the world crumbled around her tiny feet. Supposed it did when a bottle wasn’t ready when she was. Alandria was a cute little menacing ball of perfection. I loved her even more than I realized was possible.

Temper and all.

The morning after my first night with Alandria, Ireland showed up with so much stuff. Bags loaded down with items we might need, plus a bag filled with clothes for me, and a wealth of motherly knowledge. My older sister showed me how to bathe Alandria, then she reminded me about routine and keeping Alandria on hers. Since Waverly was out of it, we put Alandria on Mack Junior-Junior’s schedule, which helped both of us tremendously. I also experienced my first shitty diaper. Gross as hell, but after four days, it didn’t seem to bother me as much as the first time.

I started to feel like a pro. The things Ireland didn’t tell me I learned on my own, and I enjoyed every damn moment of it. Although my heart still hurt because I’d missed a bunch of my daughter’s milestones, according to the book Waverly had. The first time Alandria did smile at me, my heart felt like it was going to explode. Even my phone was filled with pictures of her. I added a couple of videos of her too. I had no doubt when I went back to Flame, I’d be pulling the device out every five minutes to show her off.

Since I was going to be responsible for taking care of my daughter and her mother, I was determined not to fuck it up. Hence why I was in Waverly’s tiny kitchen at two in the morning, preparing a bunch of soups and stews. Shredded chicken, and pork, along with a tray of homemade lasagna currently residing in Waverly’s freezer. It had been a tight fit, but I made it work.

Also, Alandria’s fussiness and lack of sleep had stopped after the second night. I didn’t know if it was because she’d been feeling Waverly’s stress or because we had her on a firm schedule, but she went to bed without issue and slept like a champ, only waking once or twice to be fed before going back to sleep. Which allowed me to make small changes around the apartment in preparation of her mother coming home.

Rolling out of bed, I quietly used the bathroom, hoping Alandria would sleep a little longer. On my way out to the kitchen, I pulled on a pair of sweats. I needed coffee. I’d stayed up way too late. Stepping into the kitchen, I frowned at the shitty single-serving pot. Waverly didn’t have a real coffeepot, and it drove me batty.

Yeah, I was a coffee snob. And proud of it.

There was a Zen in grinding fresh beans and making sure the water was a perfect 200 degrees. Only then could the two be combined into a French press. It was coffee nirvana in my humble opinion.

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