Chapter 10

JAX'S MOM

He hugged me when he saw me.

I was surprised and also not surprised - but so glad he did. I had wanted to hug him, but didn't dare to  - somewhere deep inside me I knew that was the first step to crossing a line we couldn't come back from.

Even so, I couldn't help but break a little as his arms wrapped around me, his body warm and solid against mine, my body starved of affection and contact.

I breathed in and held on for a bit too long than was necessary, but he didn't seem to mind.

He had taken me to my favourite cafe - he had remembered when I told him last time. It felt like his signals were getting clearer now - I wasn't just making it up in my head.

We sipped on hot coffee and he told me about his life - how it had changed since the falling out, and how his son had changed. How he himself had changed since then.

I had changed too.

I thought he really had changed as well - there was a hunger to him, a longing, or an eagerness. He was more assertive. He held my gaze until I looked away.

And I looked away every time.

He asked about me, too. He wasn't just being polite - he wanted to know. He was interested. It was hard for me to answer him, hard for me to concentrate - his stare, oh. . .

He looked at me like he knew what I wanted. Like he knew I knew what he wanted.

It was so strange, doing this. All of it was so strange - this wasn't who I was. My idea of myself was changing right in front of me and I was doing nothing about it.

Yet there was something so familiar, so solid in our conversation, even though we had never done this before.

He was funny, too. He would crack a joke and smile slightly as I laughed, watching me.

Sometimes we would just sit, and look at each other. It sounds like it was the most awkward thing ever, but it wasn't, far from it. I was reading him - wondering if he tousled his hair like that on purpose or just didn't care what it looked like. The smiley face sticker on one of his coat buttons - maybe from his little daughter. The laugh lines around his eyes. The way he held himself - leaned forward, toward me.

He was reading me too. I wondered what he saw - my hair, the few strands of grey through it, my top which didn't fit like it used to - I had lost weight these past few months and not in the good way - my Cobra tattoo peeking out from under my sleeve.

I wondered if he could see the exhaustion on my face.

I was running on fumes.

I wondered if him and Jax were the only things that kept me alive sometimes, and then I hated myself for giving someone I didn't know that well so much worth to me.

Maybe it was because Jax never came home anymore.

Maybe it was because Jax never came home anymore, that when he asked me if I wanted to go to his house - I said yes.

- - -

ROCCO

No one in my family owned a motorbike. None of my parents' friends did either.

A choking fear seized me by the throat. My blood roared in my ears.

Images of my father arriving home for lunch, then a member of the Wolverines storming in to the house flashed in my mind. Or the Cobras.

Or Dane, off his face, with a knife.

I raised my hands up to my head, clutching my hair in my fists.

If I went in there, what would I see?

I spun around -

Turned out, I didn't even have to go inside.

I saw them, through the window to the living room.

Or rather, I saw my father, with someone else's arms wrapped around his neck, hand running through his hair. His face was close to hers - it doesn't take much to figure out what they were doing.

My mother didn't own a motorbike.

My parents didn't kiss like that.

The woman surfaced for air - my stomach turned as my father went straight for her neck without missing a beat.

Her eyes locked onto mine through the window and I saw her freeze.

My father, however, continued.

I saw her mouth my father's name - Mattia.

Something in her tone must have made him stop. He turned slowly, like he already knew.

His hands slid off of her, his gaze meeting mine.

She had already pulled away from him, disappearing from the room. The front door opened and she reappeared, walking towards me, pulling her jacket around her shoulders.

My brain had frozen. I knew her. Very well.

Her face was pale. She didn't smile. She looked thinner than the last time I had seen him, so small without her Cobra jacket.

It was Jax's mom.

Her eyes meant mine and held them.

I wanted her to smile. I had missed her a lot.

How could this have happened? How could this have happened?

She mounted the motorbike, her gaze sad on mine. Then she pulled the helmet over her head, and pulled out of our driveway.

I stumbled towards the door, my breathing sharp in my ears. I opened it slowly.

My father stood in the hallway.

I watched him.

The man who had shaped me. The man I thought I knew inside out - from his daily routines, his morning breath, every item of clothing he owned, the way he smelt. The man who was almost more familiar to me than myself. The man whose personality and values were so deeply instilled in me that he was part of me.

The longer I stared at his face, the stranger he looked. The more unfamiliar he looked.

I felt like I couldn't move, like if I tried to lift my foot off of the ground it wouldn't budge and I would topple over.

"Rocco, " he said finally, his voice hoarse as it cut through the thick, thick silence.

My ears were ringing.

I felt like a huge wave was crashing over my head, far far above.

"Dad, " I choked out suddenly. "Dad. Oh my god, Dad. "

Then I was rushing towards him - I didn't know what I planned to do. Hit him? Scream at him?

Then my arms were wrapped around my father and I was shaking, holding onto him for dear life. I buried my face in his coat and breathed in. My mind was blank, painful.

My father was frozen for a few moments, then his arms gingerly came up around me as if I might suddenly attack him, or run away, or disappear.

Then he grabbed the back of my shirt and tugged me away from him - hard. I stumbled back.

"What's wrong with you? " He shouted, choked up. "Why don't you hit me? C'mon, hit me! "

I shook my head. My face was wet. I had't notice when my face became wet. I swiped my hand across my face and looked at my father.

His eyes were pleading, confused, and overflowing with guilt. "Rocco, " he cried again. "Hit me. "

He crumpled to his knees in front of me, grabbing at my hands. I shook my head again. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. How did this happen?

How did this happen?

I fell to the floor next to him and he wrapped his arms around me all the way around me.

I had broad shoulders, but my father's were broader.

"I'm sorry, " He was trembling as he spoke. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't  - it's not like - "

"Tell me then. " I heard myself say from far away.

He took a few deep breaths until he was coherent.

"I'm not leaving you guys, " He said. "Never. "

It was silent for a few more moments.

"And it's not just... It's not just - "

I cut him off, queasy at the thought. "Ok I get it. "

He paused again, letting go of me and moving back. "Me and your mother.... No. It's not exactly about her. And it's not her fault either. Don't ever blame her. But.. it's like... "

He passed a hand over his face, and suddenly he looked so, so tired. He took another deep breath.

"It's like a business arrangement. "

And then I was frozen, freezing. My perfect parents. Their perfect love story. Our perfect family. My parents.

My parents who didn't love each other anymore.