Page 35 of Choosing My Happiness
I sighed. I didn’t want to do this. I wanted to tell them definitely no. No, I wasn’t taking Blaze back. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t crush Dad like that, and I couldn’t lie. All I could do was be vague, which might give them false hope, but it would be a way to leave on a good note.
“We spoke this morning,” I told them. Dad’s eyes lit up. I continued, “It didn’t go well.” His eyes dropped, then started to dart with panic, so I pushed on with my speech. “But that’s how it is.” Dad’s panic eased, and a sly look crept in instead. I kept going, “Anyway, I’ve come to say bye. I’ve got a shift at the hospital tomorrow, so I’m driving back home today.”
Both of my parents’ faces fell.
“But you just came back…”
“I know, but I can’t leave my job.”
“Why honey? Blaze will take care of you…just like your father takes care of me,” mom whined.
I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath. I wasn’t going to fight. From what I could see, I knew this was the last time I’d see Dad alive…so I just leaned in and held him in a tight hug.
“Bye Dad, look after yourself. I’ll see you when I see you,” I told him lightly.
I turned and walked away, my heart heavy with my decision and deception. I wasn’t coming back again. Not while Dad was alive. This was my goodbye to him. But I couldn’t do it properly. Not while Mom was here and in denial.
There was a large man leaning against my car when I walked out. He glanced up from his phone and smiled at me.
“Hey Jim,” I said, restraining myself from opening my arms to give him a hug that I really needed, or crawling into his arms.
“Hey, I heard you were leaving and just wanted to say bye.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m glad I caught you.”
I nodded, still trying to control myself.
“Bye Jim, thanks so much for yesterday. I had a great time,” I told him. Butterflies were floating through my body.
“If you ever need another taste of freedom, let me know,” he said in a voice that I felt vibrate through me.
“Will do.”
“I guess you’ll keep in touch through Janie…” He spoke hesitantly, like he was trying to gauge something. Something he was unsure of.
I held my breath and decided to take a chance. “If you haven’t changed your number in four years, I’ve still got it,” I replied. “I can call.”
His smile got brighter, creasing his eyes. “It’s the same,” he confirmed, nodding slightly.
“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll call.”
He nodded again and stood up from the car, a loose stone crunching under his work boots.
“Drive safely, Daisy. Thank you for coming.”
My breath caught in my throat as my heart sped up. He stepped closer and whispered, “Look after yourself. You’re stronger than you think you are.” He winked and walked away to his bike. The one that I rode.
I let out the breath I was holding and opened my door. Then I sat, watching him put his helmet on, tighten the kutte across his torso, and take off. I felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush. It was heady. I couldn’t stop smiling and checking that no one saw the interaction.
My smile lasted for 2 days. Through 3 gangland shootings, 6 car crashes, and one suicide attempt, I still walked out of that medical chaos to sit in my car, think about Jim, and smile automatically. I sent one text of the city skyline from the helipad on the roof of the hospital, just before the helicopter landed with a patient. He responded straight away with a heart emoji. He sent a photo from the lookout, saying, “wish you were here.” I sent a heart emoji.
We couldn’t say anything more until I divorced Blaze; I was still an ol’lady. I certainly wasn’t behaving like one, but we were still restricted by the code of the club. We had to behave.
On the third day, I visited the lawyer and booked the appointment. Darcy Emmerson was younger than I expected, and empathetic. He listened to my story. Told me what evidence I would need to bring to the appointment to get the papers drawn up. He said Blaze and I would be divorced as soon as the papers were signed and filed. We just needed to agree on the separation of assets. I grimaced.
“Blaze doesn’t want a divorce. I’m not sure he’ll sign,” I murmured.
Darcy frowned. “What did you say his name is?”
“James Lovelace the fifth or something like that. He goes by Blaze. It’s his road name from his club, the Ares Riders.” I smiled wryly.
