A short, bittersweet story of friends turned lovers, turned strangers who find their way back together and attempt to get it right. AU: Jax, Tig, Juice, Kozik and Kip are still alive, otherwise basically follows the rest of the show.
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Twenty-Three:
Happy had left early in the morning to do something for the club, leaving me in a cold bed at five o'clock in the morning with the promise that he'd try and make it back for dinner. I'd groaned and questioned what he'd had to do, but he just shook his head and gave me a tender look before he kissed my forehead and walked out the door.
It had not only pissed me off, but it had also put me on edge, because Happy and I had agreed to have a one hundred per cent open and honest policy with club business, easier to stick to since the club had gone legit and the information he shared usually didn't stem from anything illegal.
I'd just finished flipping the pancakes for Harry's breakfast when the knock on the door sounded and he glanced up at me. "Someone here."
"I could hear that, buddy." I dumped his full plate in front of him and kissed his forehead. "Not too much syrup, okay? I'm just going to answer the door."
He murmured his agreement but I knew he wouldn't take notice of what I'd said, always smothering the fluffy pancakes that I made him with so much maple syrup it left me feeling nauseous when I watched him eat.
I unlocked both deadbolts and punched in the code for the alarm so it didn't make the horrendous noise at having the door open for too long, then tugged the front door open and paused.
Her blonde hair was perfectly done and styled up to rest just above her shoulders, green eyes shining as she looked at me with a large smile on her face. As always, she was dressed as though she was on her way to meet Barack Obama in a pencil skirt that went past her knees and a white button up shirt that was done up to her chin. The pearls around her neck were her staple item, a small purse tucked underneath her arm.
To her left was a man that I knew well. His grey hair was slicked back with too much product and the lines around his eyes clued me in that he wasn't exactly screaming with joy on the inside. He was wearing a pair of dress pants tucked into a black button up shirt with a tie around his neck like he'd been on his way to another business meeting to make more money just to add to a bank account that would never dwindle.
"Mama? Daddy? What are y'all doing here?"
My mother's eyes were still shining when she stepped close to me and wrapped her arms around my waist, tugging me into her so that her smell overwhelmed my senses. She smelt like expensive perfume and rose oil, a smell that brought tears to my eyes after I realised how badly I'd missed her. "We wanted to see you, baby. And our grandson, of course."
She'd just let me go when my father shot me a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Are you going to invite us in, Jasmine?"
From his tense tone I knew that he didn't approve of the three bedroom house that I'd bought. It was too small for his extravagant taste and had been a steal when I'd signed the papers, but I'd loved the simplicity of it and that it felt like a real home rather than the museum I'd spent the first twenty years of my life living in. Nothing would ever be good enough for my father, nothing that he thought was 'cheap', at least.
