Page 17 of Shattered Wings

What I see inside takes my breath away. There are letters, so many letters sitting right on the top. From the looks of them, they date all the way back to when Jaxon was in basic training. I can’t believe he kept all the letters that I sent him. A silent tear trails down my cheek as I take in the scene before me. God, I loved this man with my whole heart and now all I’m left with is the memories that we made, and a box, a box that he undoubtedly created for us.

Pulling out letter after letter, I come to pictures next. There are pictures from when we were kids and teenagers, full of love for one another. Now that I’m really looking, paying attention, I can see the love, the adoration that he has in his eyes and he looks down at me. There’s no mistaking that face. He looks happy, serene even. I haven’t seen him look at me like this for years, more years than I’m willing to count right now.

Setting the letters and pictures aside, I continue going through the box of memories. Pulling out a pair of panties, I blush, I fucking blush until I realize that those panties are not mine. WHAT. THE. FUCK. These are definitely not my panties. What the hell is in this box? Tossing the panties to the side, reaching into the box again, my next find is another stack of pictures. I’ve never seen these pictures before. But there seems to be one familiar face in the first one. It’s Jaxon standing next to a woman with a little boy between the two of them. As I further inspect the picture, my breath catches. There’s an uncanny resemblance between the boy and Jaxon. OH. MY. GOD. What the fuck is this? Did he have a baby with someone else? There is no other explanation for this child looking so much like him. Laying that picture aside, I move onto the next, and again it’s a picture of the three of them. Flipping through picture after picture, all I see are the three of them, until I come to a picture of this woman stripped bare. She’s fucking naked. The next picture takes my fucking breath away. From the angle it was taken, it is clear that this woman is sitting on top of Jaxon, either during intercourse or just after. There’s a subtle sheen of sweat on his chest and his face is flushed. He’s got the biggest smile on his face, probably bigger than I’ve ever seen before. Looking at the bottom of the photo, there’s a swollen, protruding belly. I gasp and the picture floats to the floor from my fingers.

A sob catches in the back of my throat. The back of my eyes sting as I try my best to hold back the tears that want to flow. I thought I knew it all. I thought I knew everything. Jaxon lied to me. He fucking lied. The letter that he wrote to me was a bunch of bullshit. I wonder if he wrote her one too. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a picture that I somehow missed. Picking it up and taking a good look, I recognized this woman. I’ve seen her before. How do I know her? And then a fucking light goes off. This is one of the women from Colombia. Her name was Juliana. It’s all coming back to me now. I’m certain that this is her. Did he have a baby with her? At this point, I wouldn’t put anything past him. God, I feel like a fucking idiot.

Laying the picture down with the rest, I started pulling other stuff out of the box. This seems to be a box of never-ending surprises. And to think, this damn thing has been in this closet, in my house for all this time and I’ve never known. How stupid can I be? I placed my heart in the palm of his hands, gave him my unwavering love and support, and this is how he repays me. He’s ruined me, and everything I thought I knew.

My fingers catch on an envelope next. As I stare down at it, trepidation courses through my veins. Flipping the tab and pulling out the paper, my heart skips a beat. There’s this feeling in the pit of my stomach that whatever this says might send me over the edge. Never one to wimp out, I flip the page open. No. No. No. This cannot be true. This can’t be real. It’s a marriage license with Jaxon’s middle name on the spot where his first name should be. Lucas McBride married Juliana Sanchez on March twenty second, two thousand twenty. That was while he was on his military tour in Colombia all those years ago. Oh, my fucking God. This can’t be happening to me right now. He freaking married her! He married a woman while he was married to me. My heart physically feels like it’s being ripped out of my chest. The tears that I’ve tried so desperately to hold in pour from my eyes. My hands are shaking as I lay the paper on the floor next to me.

Digging back into the box with unsteady hands, there’s another stack of photos. I don’t know if I have it in me to keep going through this box. The more I see, the more I break. At this point there’s nothing else left to break. Looking down at the photos in my hand, there’s a black-and-white photo peeking out from in between some of the pictures. Pulling it out, a gasp leaves my lips. It’s a sonogram picture of a baby at twelve weeks’ gestation. Never in my life would I have guessed that this could happen to me. I have loved my husband ever since I can remember. There’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for the man, and this is how he repays me. He fucks someone, gets her pregnant, and marries her. How the hell can he marry someone when he was already married to me? OH. MY. GOD. He had a baby with someone else before I got pregnant with Blakely. He got this woman pregnant and then married her while he was in Colombia. Six fucking months after he got back, I ended up getting pregnant with Blake. What. The. Fuck. Blake has a half brother out there somewhere.

My head is spinning, bile surges up my throat, and tears fall from my eyes in a rapid succession. Everything that I ever thought I knew was a lie. My whole life is a lie. What else am I missing? If I’m finding this stuff, then I’m willing to bet there’s more.

Hopping up off the floor, walking in the direction of his desk chair, I sit down. Opening the desk drawer, I pull out the laptop that he took with him to Colombia. Powering on his computer, my thoughts run rampant. Who knows what I’m about to find. After the computer powers up, I click on the search history. It’s connected to the computer and the cell phone he used while he was deployed. Porn site after porn site pop up, some with nineteen-year-old girls. He’s fucking disgusting. Why in the hell would a grown ass man be looking at young girls. I’m shocked beyond words. I can’t do this anymore. Getting up from the chair, I head into my room. My stomach is churning, and my mouth waters. I’m on the verge of being sick. Running into my bathroom and lifting the toilet seat, bile surges up out of my throat and into the toilet. I’ve emptied the contents of my stomach and then dry heaved until I can’t anymore. Fuck, I can’t do this.

Grabbing my usual bottle of pills out of the cabinet, and pouring out a handful, I toss them into my mouth and then down them with the glass of what’s been sitting on the counter. It’s decided that I’ll take more pills tonight and not drink alcohol.

Laying down in my bed, I pull my phone out of my pocket, intent on texting Lachlan. He’s the only one that can help me right now. My head starts spinning and black spots dot my vision as I get the text sent.

Ellie: Please come help me. I need you.

Lachlan: What’s the matter, baby doll? I’m on my way.

But I can’t respond. I can’t do anything but lie here and suffer with thoughts of everything that’s happened to me.

Lachlan

Lachlan: Ellie, answer me! Are you okay?

Why the fuck isn’t she responding? After Remi called to tell me that Ben was caught on camera going into Ellie’s house, I’ve felt sick to my stomach. There’s no doubt in my mind that what she thinks happened truly happened. I’m going to fucking kill Ben. It won’t be a fast kill, either. I’m going to torture his ass for what he’s been doing to my girl.

Lachlan: I’m starting to freak the fuck out here. Please let me know you’re okay.

I run out of my house and practically dive into my truck. Something’s wrong. I can feel it deep in my bones. “Call Ellie.” I say into my speaker. It just rings out and goes to voicemail. I don’t know anyone else that would be closer to her house either. FUCK!

I damn near breaking fifty million laws to get to her house. I’m pulling up within fifteen minutes. The house is shrouded in darkness. There isn’t a single light turned on. An ominous feeling fills my bones with dread. Jumping out of the truck and running up to the door, I pound on it as hard as I can. Nothing, there’s not a peep. My stomach sinks. Something isn’t right here.

I’ve had a key to Ellie’s house for years and there’s no better time to use it. Putting the key into the lock, turning, it clicks open. Twisting the knob, I throw the door open.

“Ellie, where are you?” There’s no sight of her in the kitchen or living room. “Ellie, can you hear me?” Come on, baby. Please answer me. Bedroom, maybe that’s where she’s at. Taking a turn down the hallway leading to her room, I stop for a second when I see the door to Jaxon’s office open. Please tell me she wasn’t in here going through his shit. That’s the last thing she needs to be doing.

I’ll worry about that later. Right now the only person who I’m worried about is Ellie. Her bedroom door is closed as I approach. “Ellie, are you in there?” Calling her name again gets no response. “Ellie, I’m coming in.” Turning the knob and stepping into the room, I’m enveloped in darkness. The moonlight shining through the windows casts shadows on the bed, revealing Ellie. She looks lifeless. My heart stalls in my chest at what I see.

Rushing over to her, she’s lying as still as can be. Her lips are blue, and skin is paler than I’ve ever seen it before. Shaking her, she doesn’t make a sound. Her skin feels clammy. Pressing my fingers to the pulse point in her neck, It’s faint. Her chest is slowly moving up and down. “What the fuck did you do, Ellie? Don’t you dare fucking die on me.” Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I dial 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I’m at 1322 Taylor Lane. My friend is unresponsive. Her pulse is faint. Her lips are blue and she’s pale. I don’t know what happened to her.”

“Do you know if she’s taken anything?” Fuck! I don’t know. I would like to say no, but I can’t be certain.

“I don’t know! She texted me saying she needed me, but after that she said nothing else, quit responding. Her husband died recently. She’s been under a lot of stress, too. Please send help.” I’ve never felt more helpless in my life than I do right now, not even when Jax was dying.

“An ambulance is in route. They are less than five minutes away. Please try to stay calm, sir.” Calm? How the fuck does she expect me to stay calm?

“What’s your friend’s name and how old is she?”

---