Page 116 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

“The moment I met you, I knew, Ace. There was never any doubt in my mind that we were end game. Not then. Not now. Not ever. Even during those ten years I was gone, my feelings for you never lessened. It’s why I never came home. I couldn’t face what I thought I would find. That you’d moved on with your life without me in it when I’d struggled to do the same.”

“Are you getting all reflective and emotional on me, PJ?” he whispers softly.

He asks, but I know deep down he appreciates it when I do. And I don’t do it enough. Nowhere near enough.

We’re each other’s past. We’re each other’s future. But we’re also each other’s memories. Because Ace and I have made so many together. Just the two of us. No one else. And we need to build more. Way more. Because I will never have enough memories with Ace.

Not ever.

A man who loves so hard and feels so strongly. A man who likes to show his love as often as he can because he knows our lives can change in the blink of any eye and he wants to have no regrets.

And I know I don’t do enough for him in return. I never have. I’ve taken too much and given way less.

I turn my face to look up at him and marvel as I always do. I’ve always said that Jason Steele was born to be stared at, and I stand by that. He truly was. Every day, my beautiful boy gets even more beautiful—both inside and out. And I’m so grateful that our new son is him in miniature form. I pray to God that he’s got the same unselfish heart on the inside too.

Because our fucked-up outlaw world needs more people like Ace.

“I’m just being honest. And whether it’s the hormones talking or something else, it really doesn’t matter. I love you. I can’t even explain how much. I don’t even think there’s a word invented that can adequately describe it. And I’m sorry for the past. And for the part I played in us losing all those years. All that precious time we can’t ever get back. And I’m sorry for all the things I say that I don’t mean. For acting like a hissy cat when there’s no need. For having been so argumentative and childish these past few months. I’m sorry, Ace. I’m sorry for all of it. Because you deserve everything good in life. You deserve all the happiness and all the love and everything you have and more. And even if were times a million, it would still never be enough for you to have what you truly deserve.”

He stares at me as I sit there, having just given birth to our son and with tears rolling down my face. Then he strokes his finger down my cheek.

“I love you too, PJ. Always have. Always will. And if all I ever deserve in life is you and our boys for today and tomorrow and the day after that? Then each day, I’ll wake up knowing I’m the luckiest man alive.”

CHAPTERFORTY-NINE

PADRAIG

Padraig’s Apartment, Hudson Yards, New York

My hands are shakingas I stare at the image on my phone. Underneath, it says Jason Nathaniel Steele, or JJ for short, which I’m guessing stands for Jason Junior.

It’s like déjà vu. History repeating. Proof paramount that life for others goes on, even though mine has all but stopped.

Ace is cradling his second newborn son twelve months to the day he did the first. The images are almost identical. The black-haired wee one is wrapped tightly in white swaddling. And he’s being held ever so gently like he’s the most precious gift in the world.

And he is. To his folks.

To his da.

Then again, a child would be the most prized possession to any da. He’d give anything. Do anything. Be anything for his child. For his daughter.

For his son.

It’s a feeling I’ll never experience because I’ll never be a da.

I’ll never know what it’s like to witness my child enter the world. To see a first tooth. To be there to catch them as they stumble after their first step. Unfortunately, The Almighty decided that wasn’t on the cards for me.

That, for some reason, I’m not deserving of any of that.

Ace has everything while I have nothing. I envy him, but I don’t hate him. How can I? He deserves his happiness. He lost her for ten years. He pined for her. He loved her. For all the time she was gone. So, he’s been where I am now—experienced the heartache. The desolation. The emptiness. He found light at the end of his tunnel, though. I won’t be that fortunate.

Forever just existing in the darkness.

Alone. Unneeded. Unloved.

Every day just bleeds into the next now I don’t even have her messages to look forward to. To anchor me. To keep me sane. To keep me company. To brighten my dark days. And in just over three months, I’ll be married. My fate sealed. My bed made. My grave dug. My life over.

I love her. I will always love Jaine Jones. My heart doesn’t have the capacity to love anyone else as she owns all of it. It’s resident in my chest still. And it’s beating just enough to keep me existing. But I’m not living. I can’t do that without her.

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