Atlanta City's Bad Boy

Chapter 39. The Journal

Mia's POV

He smokes the cigarette quickly then tosses it out the window. It's a quiet ride home. He isn't really in the mood to talk. I don't really think I am either just because I'm tired. I head straight upstairs once we get home to go start my homework. Jesse goes out to do night check. He comes in and sits down, watching me do my homework.

"Don't you have homework?" I ask him.

"I finished it through classes," He says.

"How?" I gasp.

He shrugs and grabs his journal off of his desk. I asked him about it the first time I saw him writing in it. He said he started doing it when he was eight years old after the accident and had been doing it ever since. He throws himself down on the bed and starts writing in it. I've noticed he writes in it just about every day or at least as far as I can tell.

"Do you keep all of them?" I ask him, pointing my pencil towards the journal.

"Yeah, actually, I do. I got most of them up in the attic. I'm almost done with this one too," He says quietly. "I keep stocked up on notebooks. I have probably 15 or 20 under my bed in a box."

Wow, he really likes to write. After I'm done with my homework, I go in and shower. By the time I'm done, Jesse has the lights off and the TV on. I climb into bed beside him and lay across his chest. It has been a very long day, and I am wiped out.

Jesse's POV

Dear Me,

Today was good and bad. It was good because I found out I had six of eight classes with Mia. It was bad because everyone was staring at me and whispering things about me. I tried ignoring it, but it's not easy to when everyone is calling you a cold, heartless murderer.

I'll admit I don't regret killing Marcus. It isn't like I had a choice. It was him or me, and I was not going to let him win. If it is kill or be killed, I will kill every damn time. I don't give a fuck. I'd kill if it meant keeping Mia safe, I will race illegally if it means keeping a roof over my family's heads and food on their table. I will live on this ranch and off of this ranch for the rest of my life.

Once school is over, I have no intention of going to college. I'm going to do what I've always done Race and farm. I don't know much of anything else. Mia wants to go to school to be a hairdresser. I tell her to do it. She should do anything she wants to do. But this is me. This is all I want. Damon and I got in a fight today. I get it. I killed his cousin; he's mad. I wouldn't blame him if it were Opie I'd feel the same way. I don't feel the least bit guilty for killing Marcus though, I never will. It's times like this where I really need my dad. I need guidance from him. He was always good at that, or even My granddad, but he's gone too.

Jesse Parker

I breathe out a sigh. Mia goes and get's into the shower. She comes out, and all I have on is the TV. She crawls into bed, falling asleep very quickly. I lay there, wide awake while she sleeps. I don't want to get up and her worry and come looking for me like she usually does. I lay there thinking about the journal. Maybe I should let her read them.

Then again, I don't think she'd care for some of the things that are in there. My mother told me once that my dad used to keep journals. I'm not sure if it is something she still has or not. I'm sure if she did still have journals, they'd either be in the shed or the attic. I never did care enough to look for them before.

Now I'm kind of curious, I slowly move Mia off of me and wait to make sure she isn't going to wake up. I walk up to the attic door, open it, and climb up the steep stairs. I turn the light on and begin looking for my dad's journals.

After searching a few boxes, I didn't recognize I decided to check at the very back of the attic. I found them In a big box labeled Jesse James Parker Sr. Journals. I open up the box to double-check, then I go over to the other boxes. There are four large boxes of nothing but journals. I start carrying them down the stairs. I decide to take them down to the kitchen. I keep going up and down until all four boxes are now in the kitchen. I begin reading them. My mom (bless her) has all of the journals in order. He started them at 16 years old after he met my mother.

The way he talks about her in these journals makes me realize if his life hadn't been cut short, he and my mother, without a doubt, would still be together. I always was well aware of how my mother felt about my father but not well informed on how he felt about her.

As I read these, I think of Mia. The way my father describes the way he feels about my mother is exactly the way I explain how I feel about Mia. Not knowing her for long. Feeling paralyzed the moment he laid eyes on her. The way he feels when she touches him or when he touches her. It's almost indescribable. I decide to skip ahead to when I knew my mother was pregnant with me to see what he said about that.

He writes about how excited and scared he is to be a father. How much more he loves my mother just knowing she is carrying his child. It is beginning to make me think about my future with Mia. Will we have kids at some point? A lot of kids? Will we get married? Have kids then get married? Or get married then have kids? I've been thinking a lot about that. My head spins at all the chaotic thoughts. I keep thinking about tattoos and owning a mechanic shop or something along those lines. I know that when Bryan dies, he was going to divide the company between Jordy and me. However, that is going to be a very long time from now, and the truth is I don't think I want it. I want to do my own thing.

I hear Mia creeping down the stairs. I throw the journal back into the box and wait for her to reach me. "Babe? What are you doing? It's two in the morning," She murmurs. Her gaze holds mine. Instead of answering, I open my arms and wait for her to come to me. She sits down on my lap, and my arms wrap around her waist.

"I'm sorry, baby, I couldn't sleep," I tell her.

"What is all of this?" She asks me.

"My dad's journals," I admit.

"What?" She asks, confused. "He did the journal thing too?"

"Yeah, my mom told me about it after I started doing it. I never realized he did it before then. I always remember him writing but didn't realize what he was doing," I explain to her.

She yawns and nods. I pick her up, turning the kitchen light off and carrying her bridal style up the stairs. I kiss her lips and forehead. "I'm sorry I woke you, love," I whisper.

"S'okay," She mumbles incoherently. She is back asleep before I even get her back into bed.