Page 59 of Jett

“Thanks again.”

“Love you, baby,” Indie calls, and they exit the building. Tank and Ivy are next to say their goodbyes, and pretty soon everyone but Jett, Grim, and Trigger have left. I set about covering the remaining food, of which there is far too much. As I’m tossing the beat-up devilled eggs in the trash, Father Scott approaches me and places a hand on my shoulder. I about jump out of my skin.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Cole. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“That’s okay. I’m kind of jumpy right now.”

“Before you leave, I wanted to talk to you about your new friends.” He inclines his head toward the service window in the wall. To Jett, Grim, and Trigger.

“What about them?”

“Some of the attendees today were concerned that you haven’t been in church for a while.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I have to say, your absence has been duly noted for some months now. You know if you’re in some kind of trouble, God will find a way to help you. He will not leave a devout member of his flock to navigate the rocky roads alone.”

“Well, I appreciate that Jesus has my back, but while we’re on the subject, why don’t we ask him where he stands on my husband’s soul, and why he didn’t step in with some divine intervention to stay Joshua’s hand from trying to end his own life? Or maybe we can ask where the church was when my husband was lying in a nursing home fighting for his life, and while I was working every second of every day trying to pay off his medical bills. Why don’t you ask the damn flock why they don’t give a shit about me unless it’s to gossip?”

Father Scott’s mouth gapes open and though my chest is heaving, my face is red, and my heart hurts like there’s a giant hole in it, I am not ashamed. I will not let this man ridicule me and judge my boys unfairly.

“Everything alright in here?” Jett asks from the doorway.

I meet his gaze, unwavering. “It’s fine.”

“You sure? It don’t sound fine.”

“I was just having a conversation with Mrs Cole about finding her faith in Jesus, and coming back to the church.”

“Really?” Jett folds his arms across his chest. “’Cause it sure as shit sounds to me like you’re harassing a woman who just laid her husband to rest.”

“I-I ...” Father Scott’s chin wobbles. His quivering turkey neck would be quite comical if I weren’t so damn angry.

“That’s what I thought,” Jett says, and Grim crowds the doorway behind him. He’s just as imposing as the president of the MC, but Grim’s scars tend to set people on edge and make them even more wary. If only they knew underneath all of that scarred flesh and bravado lies the heart of a man who reads classic literature and rescues stray Chihuahuas from kill shelters.

“I hope you’ll consider what I said, Mrs Cole.”

“And I hope you’ll consider what I said, Father.”

He inclines his head and I move away, grasping Jett’s outstretched hand. It isn’t until I’m out in the parking lot, the food loaded in my tiny car, that I fall apart.

***

JETT LEFT MY APARTMENThours ago. He’d helped haul all of the platters of food in from my car and I’d made him a container and sent him on his way with the rest of the food for the clubhouse. Tonight, I need to be alone to grieve.

I open a bottle of red, deliberately forget the glass, and walk through my empty apartment. I light a candle, draw a bath and sink into the sweet, lilac-scented bubbles. The wine makes me feel sick, but I continue to drink it anyway because I don’t know what else to do.

“I don’t forgive you,” I say quietly as tears run down my face. “You hear me, Joshua? I don’t forgive you for trying to kill yourself. I don’t forgive you for leaving me, and saddling me with the cost of your care. I don’t forgive you for attempting to leave me, and I don’t forgive you for failing.” I raise my bottle toward the ceiling. “I don’t forgive you for dying, Joshy, but I still fucking love you.”

I sob in the tub until I can’t cry anymore. I no longer have the tears, and I rest my head on the bath pillow and close my eyes.

I jerk awake. A man stands over me in the dark, the candle already burned out and the water is cold. I gasp, terrified, exhilarated, numb.

“I got you, darlin’,” Jett whispers as he pulls me from the tub. “It’s just me. You’re safe.”

I’m freezing, naked, and apparently stupid with grief and alcohol consumption, but I curl into his warm body. Jett sets me on my feet, and I let him dry me off. I don’t care that he can see every inch of me in the light from the hall. I don’t care that I’m naked, he’s touching me, and all of my imperfections are on display. I only care that he’s here.

“What are you doing?”

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