Losing Him (Mitchell Family #8)(3)

My tears flooded out of my eyes and I gave up trying to hold them in. I wanted my mother back. I wanted her to be able to see that I wasn’t just a selfish bitch that hurt people to get what I wanted.

More than anything, I wanted a do-over of the last ten years of my life. There was so much that I would have done differently. I could have made her proud of me. Instead, I fell in love with the wrong guy and let that love for him destroy all the potential that I ever had of being a good person. I had no friends, my boyfriend hated me and my mother was dead.

How much worse could my life get?

Chapter 2


Jessie


What kind of person would I be if I wasn’t there for her during the lowest time of her life? She was the mother of my child and, as much as I was pissed at her, I still cared.

When she came into my life, walking into my parent’s Bed and Breakfast, I saw a girl who was running and afraid. It was in my nature to reach out and do whatever I could to help her. She was beautiful and so fragile.

How was I supposed to know how damaged she was?

I fell in love with her faster than I’d fallen for any another woman. Each day she smiled more and as I prepared to make a life for myself, I began wondering if I could make a spot for her in it. We were so happy, at first, feeling free and being together.

When I found out she was having my baby, nothing could have made me happier. We were going to be a family. I went out and bought a ring, trying to come up with the best time to pop the question. It was all going to be perfect.

She told me the truth on the night I was asking her to marry me. I promised to hear her out, but it was too much to take. Maybe I shouldn’t have said the things that I said to her that night. Maybe I should have slept on it all.

She left immediately, stating that she’d give me time.

I miss those days; the days before I knew who she really was and why she’d really come into my life.

It wasn’t just the fact that she’d lied. She’d held life altering information from me. I didn’t know about my father. My aunt and uncle were the people who raised me after my mother passed away. I guess I was just too young to remember everything.

When I heard from Heather again, she’d been to Kentucky and was held hostage in some mansion that belonged to her ex boyfriend’s family. My biological father lost his life that day. I can’t say that he didn’t have it coming. My family is pretty sure that he was involved in my mother’s death.

Heather had a broken arm when she arrived on my doorstep and a broken heart when I sent her packing.

Since she had no place to go, my parent’s put her up in one of their rentals in town. She started working as a waitress while taking night classes to finish her nursing hours. I missed out on the first few months of her pregnancy, because I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be a part of raising a child with her. I hated her and her lies.

It was my mother that reached out to me, begging me to not give up on my own child. Against my better judgment, I forced myself to let her back into my life. We went to the doctor’s appointments together and started preparing my place for our son’s home coming. Heather moved back in during her eighth month of pregnancy.

For the most part, we appeared to be happy. On the inside I had built up this wall that kept her out of my heart. She’d lied before and she’d do it again. I was so sure of it.

Jacob Nicholas was born on a Tuesday. He came out with a head full of hair and big gray eyes. I loved him from that very moment. I named him after my uncle that had been the only father I’d ever known. Heather argued with me about the name, but wouldn’t tell me the reason. At the end of the day, I won out on the argument.

We were filled with excitement and hope, but unfortunately, Heather’s postpartum depression got the best of her. Since I already had so much pent up animosity towards her, it only took a couple of rough days to send me over the edge.



I went out one night and hooked up with an old classmate. I knew what I was doing. It was an * move, except I didn’t care. I was so pissed at her; so hurt that she could destroy me and expect me to forgive her. I wanted her to pay, even if it meant that I’d have to share custody instead of living with my son.

When I finally went home, three days later, all I wanted to do was make her feel the pain that I felt when she broke my heart, so I told her what I did.

At first she got really quiet and retreated to our bedroom. When I went to check on her moments later, she was in a ball in the corner of the room, sobbing so hard that I was wondering if she could catch her breath at all.

I’d done what I set out to do, but also, I’d set in motion a life that would never be fixable.

I thought hurting her would make me feel better. Instead, it made me feel worse. Then of course, I put up a stronger wall. It actually pissed me off that she was willing to forgive what I’d done. I wondered if she was forgiving me, so I would forgive her.

For the past five years, our on again off again relationship was like dangling off a cliff on one toe. It was no longer about forgiveness, it was about letting go of the past.

Apparently, Heather had her own demons to tend to, but fixing me was her favorite thing to do. She wanted me to be this perfect guy and I just couldn’t handle it.

Her constant phone calls annoyed me so much that I avoided them. I was finally getting her out of my system and I felt okay with that decision.

Still, when I heard that her mother died, I knew she couldn’t handle it on her own. She was already too broken to manage it by herself, so I had my dad fill in for me at the Bed and Breakfast, packed a bag and showed up in her driveway. It was the right thing to do.