Page 64 of Broken Bonds
FML
There’s part of me that wants to feel bad about storming out of the office the way I did.
The rest of me says fuck that shit and wants to go home, lick my emotional wounds while steering clear of Jax until I can have a rational discussion with him without being a petty fucking bitch—worse than I already am, that is—and not make the situation worse.
Because my logic brain, the part of me privy to running the pack and the complex logistics involved with that, knows that if Jax says our baby plans have changed yet again, I’ll probably have to agree with him no matter how much that would piss me off.
Children—even children of vampires—and other innocents who are already living and in danger take precedence over a hypothetical pup of our own that hasn’t even been conceived.
And at the rate we’re going, it’s looking less likely it ever will be conceived.
Fuck my life.
Except…I would not be able to look myself in the mirror if we didn’t help the refugees and then something else happened.
But I don’t head home.
I don’t even head out to go for a run.
I drive down to Brooksville with my work laptop, set up at a small coffeeshop inside a New Age store right on the main town square, and shove my earbuds in and play music while I work.
Because I do have work to do.
And if I let myself be alone at home, or go on a run, I’ll wallow in self-pity alternating with bouts of hating Jax’s guts for this change in situation that’s absolutely no fault of his. I’ll keep spinning myself up until I’m entirely incapable of having anything even remotely resembling a rational conversation.
The pack has to come first. I know this.
As the pack Alpha’s mate, I insist upon it. Can’t control who you feel a mate bond for, but when Mike talked about handing control over to Jax, I was all for it. I was all-in both as his mate and his work partner. Mainly because I’d never felt like I had a home before arriving here. I spent many years wishing I had a pack, a community I could serve and be part of, to lean on in hard times, and then I finally had one with Jax.
Giving back to our pack, to me, is sacred work and keeps our bond strong.
Keeping us all safe.
Keeping our pack happy and thriving.
There might be room in our marriage for me to be a petty bitch about personal stuff, but there truly isn’t room in the office for it.
And I owe Jax an apology. Fortunately, I didn’t show my ass—too badly—in front of Marchman, or I would feel like I owed the vampire one as well.
The sooner we can help the vampires fight back against whoever the fuck is trying to wipe people out, the sooner they’ll be safe to leave, and our lives can go back to normal.
Maybe part of me really didn’t believe Jax when he said we’d start trying for a baby. Maybe there’s already been too many years, too many delays.
Maybe my body is trying to tell me my best days are long behind me and I should’ve had a pup when my chances were better.
I will need to come to terms with this in my own time and own way, and I need Jax to give me that time and space.
Do I think he believed he was telling me the truth about trying?
Absolutely.
I can’t let my emotions allow Jax to not put the pack first.
Adulting sucks balls.
Not in fun ways, either.
I avoid checking my phone for a couple of hours as I drink too much damned good coffee and eat a few delicious baked goods they also sell. When I finally check my phone, I’m not sure if it relieves me or pisses me off that there aren’t any calls or texts from Jax.
