Learning to Heal (2 page)

After about twenty minutes I finally hear the beep as he unlocks the doors and then the sound of him sliding across the leather seat as he gets in. I sit patiently, thinking of what our life together will hold while he pulls out of the parking lot. Maybe we can finally go to his place since I’m positive no one saw me get in his car. Maybe he has a few pictures of him as a baby so I can imagine what our little peanut will look like when he or she grows up. Thinking of becoming a mom causes a rush of nervousness. I don’t want to be like my birth mom and I hope neglect isn’t hereditary.

She was an alcoholic and eventually her cocktails also included anything she could stick into her veins.  She was selfish and only interested in her next high or one night stand instead of snapping a photo or two of me, so I don’t have any pictures of myself before the age of two. However, she did give me something to always remember her by every time I look in the mirror and see the scar. It’s called Tetralogy of Fallot—a congenital heart condition—and after two surgeries I’m able to have a normal life. Well … as normal as it can be.

Shaking those thoughts from my head, I stare at Ollie’s profile. He’s grown a small beard and even though it scratches when we kiss, it looks really good on his strong jaw. Watching as he loosens his tie, my hands itch to touch him. I take a deep breath. I’m about to surprise him when I hear his phone ring over the car’s speakers. Before I can warn him I’m here, he answers and I have no choice but to listen.

“Hello.”

I want to purr from the sound of his deep voice. It caresses my skin as it reaches my ears and penetrates my brain. Then I hear the woman on the other line and my heart drops.

“Hey, baby. What time are you going to be here? Addie is dying to hit the streets for her candy fix.” I can hear kids in the background screaming, and my eyes start to blur from tears.
Are those his children?
 

“I’m headed your way now. Let me talk to her.” I hear the rustle and commotion of the phone being passed to someone.

“Daddy, are you coming? All the good candy will be gone soon.” The girl sounds so young, but my heart still cracks from the name she calls him.
Daddy.
That is his child.
He lied to me? He fucking lied to me?
I have to take several deep breaths to distract myself from jumping up and strangling him.

“Yeah, sweetness, I’ll be there soon. I promise that you won’t miss out, okay?” She hollers something playfully, but I can’t make it out because of the blood rushing in my head. “Addison? Let me talk to your mom.” I hear the girl squeal with laughter. “I love you, Princess.”

The affection for this little girl is apparent in his words. Maybe he’s divorced. Maybe he just hasn’t had the chance to tell me about them. These thoughts continue as I rationalize how and why this happened. I’m starting to rein in my temper and feel better, so I decide to listen instead of jumping to conclusions.

“I love you too, Daddy.” The rustling repeats itself and then the woman’s voice comes back over the speaker, taking a razor across my already compromised organ.

“Alright, I think she’s okay for a few minutes, but please hurry. She already wants to scratch her face paint off.”

“I’ll be there in ten.” His next words just ruin everything we’ve shared and I want to weep. “I love you.”

My heart doesn’t just break, it fucking shatters. I feel sick hearing the words he’s told me several times directed toward another woman. I let the sadness stay only for another minute before it begins to fester and morph into anger. No, not anger.
Fucking rage
. I want to kill him and cut out his lying tongue. I also want to hit myself a few times for falling for his bullshit.
Ugh! I am so stupid.
 

When the phone goes dead and the music comes back on, I slowly sit up and wipe my red, mascara-smeared eyes.

“You’re married?” He jumps and the car swerves from his surprise. I don’t care, though, because all that I can think about is that he’s continuously lied to me for over two months. My fist slams into the seat in front of me, and I ask him again, screaming, “You’re married?”

“
Jasmine?
What the hell are you doing?” I see those dark blue eyes stare at me through the rear view mirror, but I feel numb instead of the usual attraction and desire.

 “You’re married?” I repeat and ignore his question. My question is more fucking important, and I need an answer from his lying mouth. Now!

Hearing a honk from some asshole behind us, I look around and see we’re at a gas station. Instantly, I recognize our location. I grab the door handle ready to get away from him even though we’re in the middle of the road. He locks it before I can.

“Calm the fuck down and sit still,” he commands irritably. Why is he angry when I’m the one who’s been lied to constantly?

“Let me out, you lying piece of shit, before I take off this shoe and embed it in your ear.” I continuously wipe my face to clear my vision as I yank on the door handle.
Where is the stupid lock?
 

Sighing with aggravation, he looks my way and one side of his lip turns up. “Why are you so upset? This doesn’t change things for us, baby.” He sounds so cocky. I don’t even recognize his voice and it causes my skin to crawl.

Shivering from disgust, I try to locate the lock again before I vomit. Where is the sweet guy I fell in love with? What the hell just happened?

Once I notice he’s parked the car, the lock releases and I open the door, eager to escape. My non-filtered brain causes word vomit to eject from my mouth.

“You sick bastard. I wonder what your wife will think.”

Jumping down, I get ready to slam the heavy door, but he steps out and runs around to my side before I can make my exit.

Invading my space and looking pissed, he stares down at me. He’s tall like Jax and compared to my four foot ten frame, it’s intimidating. Deciding not to cower, I straighten my shoulders. I have every right to want to kick him in the balls hard enough that they fill his eye sockets. I lean my head back to meet his angry stare with my own.

“Now listen to me. You will not say a fucking thing. Got it?” Seeing the iciness directed my way, I move back and feel my legs hit the step while he continues. “The way you pursued me that first day is evidence enough that you are just a slut. The classroom was filled with other students who watched as you flirted with me. Not the other way around, darling. You are nothing but a freshman looking to pass that will spread her legs for a good grade.” He takes a breath and gets in my face, continuing to knock down my confidence. Little by little. Piece by piece. “Plus, my wife is model material. Perfectly made with absolutely no flaws or scars to mar her skin. She’s not scared to fuck without a shirt on or with the lights on.” He looks from head to toe at me with a sneer on his face. “Not fucked up like you. So remember that before you open that mouth of yours.”

As he backs away, I wipe at my tears. His words cut deep and will leave a scar of their own, but this one will be invisible but harder to hide. He knows how the scar between my breasts affects me. I try not to let anyone know how self-conscious I am, but I opened up to him. He was supposed to be my future. How stupid was I to honestly believe the words of affection and love that spewed from his mouth? A mouth that I loved to kiss and would stare at longingly while he lectured the class. Nausea rolls in my belly with the thought of his family at home while we had sex all those times. He kissed me then returned home and kissed his children with those same lips. Kissed his
wife.
 

I inhale the night air, trying to breathe while my heart and self-esteem start to crumble and fall away. Even though I’m crying, I fight to remain calm because I refuse to let him know the actual damage his words and actions have caused me. Straightening my spine, I look into his eyes with the last bit of confidence I can scrounge up. “Fuck you.”

I shove past him and walk toward Jay Jay’s. I hope Mason’s there. He always has a way to make me laugh—I sure could use one right now—but I doubt anything will fix the fissure that runs from my heart and collides with my soul.

Shit, shit, shit! How did I get myself into this? My brain is like a messed up carousel with words continuously spinning around through my head. What am I going to tell them? How are they going to take the news? I don’t know but I need to say something clever and possibly funny. Before I have it planned out perfectly, I run out of time. I know it’s now or never. I’m woman enough to admit when I’m scared, and right now I’m terrified—not of my parents, but of my brother, who’s sitting across from me staring at Tru while he tells us what he’s thankful for. Even though I feel like gushing over their cuteness, I remain a nervous wreck. I take a deep breath and act like I’m listening to everyone, but really I’m freaking the hell out. My skin starts breaking into a cold sweat as my turn approaches, and I continuously tap my foot under the table to relieve some of this anxiousness, but it’s a useless action. So I try to be positive instead. Maybe Jax won’t go apeshit on me because we have Mason and his sister here and they would be witnesses to my murder. God I hope they’d be on my side and not the lynch mob’s.

Okay, Jazz, you can do this
. Telling them about the baby isn’t the end of the world. Right? But it would have been easier with Ollie—excuse me, I mean
asshole—
here. So instead of discussing my future as a wife, I’m going to be discussing how I’m a single mom because I screwed my professor.
Ugh!
Why can’t I get over this and just act like it’s no big deal? I’m not the only person to get knocked up before I’m out of my teens. They even made a TV show out of kids having babies. I know why it feels like the end of my world. I absolutely hate disappointing people, especially my family. They have sacrificed so much for me my entire life, and I love them and will do just about anything to see them happy. Take college for an example. When they wanted me to go even though my grades sucked in high school, I didn’t argue. It was the least I could do after they took me in and saved my life from becoming a dope fiend like my birth mom.

Too soon my thoughts are interrupted and I’m brought back to the here and now. To save face I make a rash decision not to reveal the identity of the father since Tru is the only one who knows about Professor Fuckwad. Let them make their own assumptions. Hopefully Tru won’t say anything because she knows how important secrets are. I still don’t know all of hers but hopefully she’ll continue to keep mine.