He pulled the strings on the hood of his sweatshirt tight around his face, shivering against the cold. Each snowflake that landed on his skin was a reminder that life as he knew it was over. He blew warm air into his hands to try to coax some feeling back into them, but they were numb, just like the rest of his body. He wasn't dressed for winter. Even if he'd had time to pack, he didn't own a single article of clothing that would keep wind this frigid from slicing right through him. But he didn't have time to pack, or think, or plan. He didn't have time to do anything other than get as far from Charming as he could, as quickly as possible.
It all happened so fast. One moment, he was a trusted member of the outlaw motorcycle club he'd devoted his life to, and the next, he was a rat. A marked man. A cop killer. And an accomplice in the murder of the club president's wife. If they ever found him, they would kill him. He was sure of that. He had to become a ghost. And stay one.
He woke slowly as the nearly empty Greyhound bus squealed to a stop. At one point along his journey, somewhere around Atlanta, it had been packed to capacity. He'd found himself wedged between an overweight elderly man and a cute blonde who didn't look older than eighteen and kept giving him the eye- the one that said she loved trouble, and was looking to get into some. Under different circumstances, he would have been all over that. But he had to stay under the radar, talk to no one, leave no trail. Whether or not he stayed alive, and for how long, depended on his ability to go unnoticed.
He rolled his neck back and forth to try to work out the kinks as the passengers in front of him got their bags out of storage and exited the bus. Reluctantly, he stood, strapped on his backpack, and followed them. For the past two days, that smelly, uncomfortable bus had been his safe haven. As long as he was on the move, he felt safe. But now it was time to settle, set up a base, start a new life. And that prospect terrified him.
He'd been sitting in front of the horribly inefficient wall heater in his tiny motel room for nearly an hour, and he was still shivering. He would have to find somewhere else to stay long term, but the room had a bed and a shower, and was just across the street from the bus station. That was all he needed. Well, that and food. His stomach growled at the mere thought of it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. He dug through his backpack until he found one of the socks he'd stuffed full of cash. On his way out of Charming, he made only one stop- to clean out the safe at Clear Passages. He walked away with nearly eleven grand. He could live off that for a few months, at least- find a cheap apartment, get a used couch, a bed, a TV. Maybe even find an old junker for a few hundred dollars that he could drive around town.
He pulled out a few singles and stuffed the sock back into his bag, then shoved the bag under the bed. With his hands in his pockets, he ventured out of his room into the unrelenting cold to search for a vending machine. He found a row of them in the breezeway that cut through the center of the motel, splitting the ground floor into two separate buildings. There were two soda machines, three snack machines, and an ice machine. He laughed at the sight of it. The entire town was an ice machine. It seemed a little superfluous. As he was trying to choose between Sun Chips or Doritos and beef jerky or trail mix, he was startled by a voice behind him.
"Hey." He spun around to find the source, ready to fight, even though the voice clearly belonged to a woman. "Not from around here, are ya?" she said with a smile. Standing before him, wearing a thick red parka with fur trim, was probably the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She had porcelain skin and jet black hair with a single strand of bright blue running through it. Her features were delicate, almost like a doll's, and she had a small diamond in her left nostril. Her fierce green eyes were circled with black eyeliner, which only made them pop that much more.
"I'm Carly," she introduced herself, offering him a gloved hand.
"J-" he caught himself just in time. "Jesse. My name's Jesse," he lied. Juice was dead. So was Juan Carlos, for that matter. Jesse wouldn't have been his first choice for a new identity, but it was the first thing that popped into his head.
"Nice to meet you, Jesse. First time in Traverse City?"
He nodded. Traverse City, Michigan was about as far from Charming as the moon was from the sun, in every way possible, which was exactly why he chose it. One of the Diosa girls he used to hook up with was from there, and she used to talk about it all the time; how the winters were harsh, but the summers were beyond beautiful, with the lakes and rivers and miles and miles of uninhabited wilderness. She made it sound like a good place to go to get lost, which is why it was the first thing that came to his mind when the impatient clerk at the bus station ticket window pressed him on where he was headed. Had he given any thought to the fact that it was the middle of winter in Michigan, he probably would have chosen another destination. But what was done, was done. He was Jesse from Traverse City now. At least until he felt safe enough to move again.
"How are you liking it so far?" Carly's voice brought him back to the present. He didn't even realize he'd drifted off.
"It's…cold," he said briskly, making his selections on the snack machine. Why was this strange, beautiful girl so interested in what he was doing? "I'm sorry, am I in your way?"
Carly smiled. "Just a little. My mom works here. Housekeeping. I was bringing her supper, but forgot to pack pretzels. They're her favorite. You look kinda on edge, so I didn't want to sneak up behind you and risk getting shanked. Thought it better to announce myself." His heart began to race. Was it really that obvious that he was on the run? That he was the type of person who would stab someone? Carly smiled again, and he could tell that she was joking. Or at least trying to. She had no clue how close to the truth she actually was.
"Well, it was nice meeting you, Carly. I'm gonna go have dinner now." She eyed the snacks in his hands and laughed. He forced himself to smile, then headed back toward his room.
"Hey, Jesse," she called after him. He almost didn't turn around. It would take him a while to get used to his new name. "There's a killer pizza place just down the road. I haven't eaten yet, if you'd rather grab some real food than that crap from the vending machine."
He smiled, half wishing he could say yes, but knowing that wasn't an option. Stay under the radar. Talk to no one. "Maybe another time," he said, then walked away before she could respond.
His spoils from the vending machine weren't nearly enough to satisfy his hunger, but they would have to do. He was finally starting to get some feeling back in his fingers and toes, and he wasn't about to ruin that by going outside again. He stripped off the clothes he'd been wearing for nearly three straight days and studied his reflection in the mirror as he let the shower warm up. It was funny, he'd been thinking about nothing but death for the past seventy two hours- the death he'd witnessed, the death he'd caused, ways to prevent his own death at the hands of the club- and now he looked like death himself. His skin was sallow and his eyes were bleary, sunken in, and had dark circles hanging below them. Peach fuzz was starting to grow on his head, but his tattoos were still clearly visible. He would have to wear a hat out in public for a couple of weeks, at least.
He climbed into the shower and closed his eyes as the hot water ran down his bare back, instantly regretting it. Every time he closed his eyes, he was back in Jax and Tara's kitchen. So much blood. There was so much, he could still smell it, taste it. Poor Tara. She'd gone a little sideways recently, but she was a good person. Maybe the best person he knew. She didn't deserve that. And Gemma…what the hell was she thinking? She'd always been crazy, but damn. Out of some sort of sense of duty, he helped her get cleaned up and disposed of the evidence, but he was sure the club would figure out the truth one way or another. The truth always had a way of coming out. If anyone knew that, he did.
He was still drying off when there was a light knock at his door. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he reached for his gun, the same one he'd used to kill Eli. There was no way. There was no fucking way they found him that quickly. Was there? With his heart racing, he inched toward the door, a towel wrapped around his waist. He was careful not to make a sound. He looked through the fogged over peep hole. Nothing, just the bright reflection of snow. He tiptoed over to the window and peered out of the curtains. No one. With the chain still locked, he opened the door just a couple of inches. Sitting on the ground was a large, brown paper sack. Whoever had left it was gone. He waited several minutes before unlatching the chain and pulling the bag inside, the delicious aroma of marinara and fried cheese filling the room almost instantly. The bag contained three Styrofoam takeout boxes. The first one was stuffed with four oversized slices of the most delicious looking pepperoni pizza he'd ever seen. The second one was full of breadsticks coated in parmesan cheese. And the third one had two pieces of turtle cheesecake in it. The bottom of the bag was lined with a half dozen bottles of water, a piece of paper stuck between them. A handwritten note:
Next time, you're buying.
XO- Carly
Was she for real? How did she even know what room he was in? He tried to be offended, but he couldn't stop smiling. He couldn't remember the last time someone had done something genuinely nice for him. He slipped on a fresh shirt and pair of jeans, sat down in the middle of his bed with his food, and turned on the TV. What was on wasn't important. He just needed it for the sound. He hated silence. Sometimes it was the loudest thing in the world.
He awoke the next morning with a clear head. It was amazing what a good night's sleep could do. He finished off the last of his pizza, which was now cold, and downed a room-temperature bottled water. He pulled back the curtains, thankful to see the snow had stopped, but it still looked cold as hell. He would have to invest in a coat and some gloves, there was no doubt about it.
He did his best with what he had to bundle up, shoved as much cash as he could fit into his wallet, and headed outside. Even though his room smelled distinctly of cigarette smoke, he was adhering to the "no smoking" rule. The last thing he needed was to get kicked out into the cold. He stood just outside his door, taking long drags from his cigarette as he formulated his plan for the day. He would talk to the front desk clerk and find out where the main drag in town was- grocery stores, car dealerships, clothing stores, furniture stores. He'd need the number to a taxi service, as well. While he was out, he would look for another place to stay- a fugitive holding up in the motel directly across the street from the bus station was only a little obvious.
"Good morning!" called a cheery voice from the parking lot. He looked up to see Carly sitting in the driver's seat of an idling car, her window down, fog from her breath swirling around her head, the same way cigarette smoke was swirling around his. "How was your dinner?" she asked with a grin. He flicked his spent cigarette into the bushes, then made his way over to her.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. The harshness in his voice stole her smile. "Are you following me?" He realized how paranoid he sounded as soon as the words were out of his mouth.
Her kindness was replaced with anger, and her green eyes blazed as she looked him up and down. "No," she said plainly. "I was dropping my mom off at work. She doesn't drive, so I'm here several times a day, just FYI. If that bothers you, you might want to consider staying somewhere else."
He hung his head, ashamed. "Shit, I'm sorry. It's just been a long week, that's all. Thank you for the pizza. That was very nice of you. How much do I owe you?" The smile slowly returned to her beautiful face as she swatted his hand, which was clutching two twenty dollar bills, away.
"Like I said, you're buying next time."
He smiled back, nodding in agreement. She didn't need to know that he'd be long gone by the end of the day. "You got it," he agreed.
"So where you headed?" she asked.
"Supply run."
"Good idea." She looked him up and down, taking note of his lacking winter gear. "Need a ride?"
He shook his head. "Nah, I'll just call a cab. Thanks, though."
"Where do you think you are?" she laughed. "This isn't Chicago. We don't just have cabs roaming the streets. It'll have to come from the airport. It'll take forever, and cost you a fortune. I'm not doing anything today, let me give you a lift." She held her hands up playfully. "No charge."
He chuckled. As much as he wanted to refuse her, it was hard to argue with logic. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked as he climbed into the passenger side of her lipstick red Chevy Cavalier, instantly thankful for the heated shelter.
She shrugged her shoulders. "It's what we do here. If you're plannin' on stickin' around, you might want to get used to it."
He stared at the wall, contemplating putting his own head right through it. What was he doing? What the fuck was he doing? Carly stirred beside him, her perfect, petite figure visible under the thin sheet. God, she was gorgeous. She was the sort of girl a guy wifed up- funny, thoughtful, independent, great in bed. Problem was, he wasn't a guy that would ever settle down. His demons kept him constantly on the move.
He promised himself he wouldn't let this happen. He thought that they could be friends, maybe, but nothing else. Nothing else. But after an entire day of her showing him around town, helping him shop, and making suggestions on where and how he could go about the process of putting down roots in Traverse City, he allowed himself to start pretending that his life really could be different, that he really could change. She took him home, cooked him dinner, and one thing led to another. He knew it was wrong. He knew he was fucking up his fresh start, less than twenty four hours in, but he couldn't help himself. And now he'd ruined it all.
He sneaked out of her bed, which smelled like lilacs, and out of her quaint little apartment full of the rich history of a life well lived, but not before snatching her car keys off the kitchen counter. On his way out the door, a picture hanging on the wall caught his eye, one of her standing with a large group of people, smiling as if she'd just won the lotto. She had friends and family, people who cared about her. That was something he would never have. Something he didn't deserve. By the weekend, he'd be nothing more than a bad memory to her.
"Jesse, customer!" It had been nearly two months since he'd accidentally changed his name, and he was still trying to get used to it. He could have changed it again, he supposed, but he kept it as a reminder of her, and of the mistake he could never make again. He couldn't let anyone get close. His life depended on it.
In the eight weeks since his escape from Charming, he'd created a quiet little life for himself in Traverse City. The motel scene got old quick, so he was excited when he found a rusty old Airstream trailer sale. He rented an acre of hunting land from the guy who sold it to him, and set his new home up on the outskirts of town, away from prying eyes. He was able to find a local guy who sold fake IDs and forged documents, and so he officially became Jesse Miguel Cruz, with the driver's license, social security card, and birth certificate to prove it. He bought a beat up pickup truck at a dealership in town, and got himself a job at an oil change garage. He needed to save as much of his money as he could, in case he had to leave everything behind and start over again. And, he needed something to help him pass the time. He was going crazy inside his own head.
He hung the last of the windshield wipers he was stocking on their allotted hooks, then made his way slowly toward the oil change bay. He liked it better in the back, where it wasn't too cold and he didn't have to interact with a lot of people. His boss, an elderly man named Jim with a big gut and a tiny brain, pointed toward the furthest bay down. "Don't forget to up-sell," he instructed.
He recognized the car instantly. Lipstick red Chevy Cavalier with a sugar skull air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. Shit. He turned around, looking for someone else he could pawn his customer off on, but it was a slow day. Everyone else had gone home. It was just him and Jim. And Jim didn't do anything besides tell other people what to do. Shit.
"Just an oil change for ya?" he asked, not making eye contact with the car's occupant. He pretended to be busy getting tools out while he waited for a response. There was none. Finally, he turned around.
"Holy fuck," she breathed, not sounding quite as pissed as he expected her to. "I thought that was you. But then I thought, no way that asshole's still around. He disappeared months ago. And yet, here you are."
He swallowed hard. "Hello, Carly."
"Shit," she laughed.
"I'd have someone else help you, but I'm the only one working," he apologized. "I understand if you…"
"It's fine," she interrupted, opening her door and handing him the keys. "As long as you don't take off again."
"Hey, I'm sorry about that," he said. "About everything."
"You stole my fucking car, Jesse."
"I didn't…I didn't steal it. I borrowed it. I left it at the motel for you. I just had to…"
"Yeah, I know," she said quietly. "I'll be in the lobby. Come get me when it's done." He tried not to watch her walk away, but he couldn't help himself. She was…magnetic.
He did his best to stay focused on the task at hand, but he couldn't keep his mind off her. When he was finished changing the oil, checking the fluid levels, and vacuuming the interior of her car, he grabbed a complimentary air freshener and placed it on the passenger seat, but not before jotting his cell number down on it. It was a long shot, but he had to try. Now she knew where he worked, and would know how to reach him if she wanted to.
She refused to speak to him as he cashed her out, and didn't bother saying thank you when he gave her keys back to her.
"Have a good day," he called after her as she hurried back to her car. Without turning around, she threw both of her middle fingers up in the air and kept walking. He couldn't help but smile.
He still had leftover Chinese food in the fridge, so he didn't have to stop anywhere on the way home. He was off for the next two days, and was already dreading the solitude. It was dark when he pulled into his makeshift driveway, a thin patch of land he kept shoveled and salted. As always, it was freezing inside the old camper. He had a small electric space heater and a wood burning stove he'd installed himself, but both were too dangerous to leave unattended. Leaving his coat on, he lit the fire in the stove and cranked the heater up all the way. He turned on the TV that took up most of the free space on his table, and thumbed through his small collection of DVDs, trying to decide what to watch. He'd seen them all dozens of times, but they didn't exactly offer cable service in the woods, and he had to have the background noise. He settled on the first season of Married With Children, hoping a little comedy might cheer him up after the shitty day he'd had.
When it was warm enough, he peeled off his coat and gloves, and changed into his favorite pair of sweats. He heated his beef and broccoli up in the microwave, opened a beer, and made himself as comfortable as he could on the built in sofa that also served as his bed.
He didn't react when he first heard the knock at his door, unsure it was really what he heard. Nobody knew where he lived. Nobody. He was in the middle of nowhere, it wasn't like the neighbors stopped by when they needed to borrow a cup of sugar. The second knock, he couldn't ignore. He set down his beer and pulled out the gun he kept tucked under the couch cushions so that it was always nearby when he slept. He removed the safety and stood to the side of the door, incase whoever it was decided to force their way in.
"Someone there?" he asked, trying not to sound panicked.
"It's me." He breathed a sigh of relief and stuffed his gun back under the couch, then unlocked and opened the door. And there she was, looking defeated and adorable and freezing and pissed, all at the same time.
"Jesus, what are you doing here?" he asked, pulling her inside. She was ice cold. "Here, sit down." She allowed him to guide her to the couch. He could feel her shivering under his touch. He moved the space heater closer so that she could hold her hands up to it, and grabbed two blankets from the storage compartment above the couch, wrapping them both around her. "Can I get you something? Some tea?" He had no idea why he had tea. He didn't even like the shit. But it seemed like a good thing to have on hand, living in the woods in the winter. She nodded. They were both silent as he heated a mug of water in the microwave, then dropped a tea bag into it. "Hold this," he said. "It'll keep your hands warm while it marinates, or whatever the hell it does."
"Thank you," she said softly, and he thought he saw the faint hint of a smile play across her lips.
He waited until she'd had a few sips of her tea to speak. "Better?" She nodded. "Good. So, uhhh…what are you doing here?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I just…you caught me off guard."
He chuckled involuntarily. "Yeah, you caught me off guard, too." It was true in so many ways. He knew he was breaking all of his rules by opening up to her, but there was just something about her. For the first time in a long time, he didn't feel alone. Not when he was with her. Even before he left Charming, before things with the club started to go south, he didn't feel like he belonged. He joined the club hoping he'd found his family, but he very quickly began to realize he didn't fit in. He loved his brothers, and he tried his best, but he just wasn't cut out for the shit they got into. It wasn't him. Nothing was. But when he was with her, he felt free. Like he could be himself. And that was something that just might be worth the risk he was taking.
"I saw your number," she explained. "On the air freshener."
"You could have called," he teased.
"I should have called," she agreed with a grin. "I ran across the street to the pharmacy after my oil change, and when I was done shopping, I got in my car and I just sat there. I sat there thinking about what happened between you and I, trying to figure out how I could even be considering calling you after what you did to me. Because there's something you should know about me, Jesse." She looked at him, her eyes full of tears. "I don't do what we did. I've…never, ever done that. I don't know what it was about you. I thought we had a connection. Or something. I don't know."
"Yeah," he agreed. He wanted to elaborate, but the lump in his throat prevented him from saying any more than that.
"So anyway, I was sitting there like a weirdo, and I saw you getting ready to leave work. Nice truck, by the way."
He smiled, knowing she was kidding. His truck was more rust than paint. "Thanks."
"So I followed you. I don't know why. I wanted to see where you'd go, I guess. What you'd do. I don't know how you didn't see me, I'm not a very good spy."
She had no idea how much her words unsettled him. What if it had been someone else following him? He had no idea. "Guess I better work on paying better attention," he said, trying to keep his voice light.
"I was waiting down the road to see if you'd come back out, and when I realized you were staying, that this is where you live, I decided to leave. But my car wouldn't start." He couldn't stop himself from laughing. "I know, serves me right for being a stalker, right? I tried everything. I have no idea what's wrong with it. I really, really didn't want you to know I was here. I thought about walking back to town, even. But I knew you'd see my car and figure it out anyway, so…here I am."
"Jesus," he breathed. "Well, first of all, I'm glad you didn't try to walk back to town. I would have hated to be the one to find your frozen corpse along the road in the morning. And second of all…I'm glad you're here. I shouldn't be, but I am."
She pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes as he breathed in the delicious scent of her. "Me too."
"You're still here," she teased, her head resting on his shoulder as she awoke with the sun. He pulled her closer, loving the way her naked body felt intertwined with his. All of his most recent sexual encounters had been with paid professionals, and not one of them held a candle to Carly. The way they fit together, the way their energies fed off of one another. It was other worldly.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said, kissing her on the forehead. "But you should. I'm not the type of guy you want to be with."
"How do you know what I want?" she asked.
He took her face in his hands, admiring the curve of her lips and the depth in her eyes. "Because I see you, Carly. And you deserve the world."
Her porcelain cheeks blushed a light pink. "I see you too, Jesse. And you don't give yourself enough credit. You're a good man. You just get in your own way too much." That last part was definitely true, he'd always been his own worst enemy.
"You don't know anything about me," he said. "Where I've been…the things I've done. I destroy…everything I touch. You don't know me at all. Hell, my real name's not even Jesse." A strange look came over her face, as if she somehow knew that, but didn't want to accept it.
"Did you come here to start over?" she asked. He nodded. " Have things been different since you've been here?" He laughed. It was like living in a completely different world. "Do you intend to hurt me, or anyone else here?" He shook his head. He was quite sure he'd put a bullet in his own head before he'd let anything harm her. "Then consider this your do-over, Jesse. Forget about the past. It's behind you. You only look forward now, never back. Okay?"
"Okay," he agreed.
"And maybe someday, if you want to tell me about the man you used to be, I'll listen. But right now, I'm more interested in the man you are." He pinched her chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up toward his.
"Where did you come from?" he asked. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled. He pressed his lips to hers, and did exactly as she said- he let go of his past. There was nothing but pain and disappointment in his memories, anyway. He'd always been just a lost little boy, masquerading inside a man's body. But that was only because he didn't have the one thing he needed to make him whole. What he needed was her.
He stared out the window as giant snowflakes drifted slowly toward the ground. He wasn't quite sure he was ready for his second winter in Traverse City. Spring, summer and fall had been far too short- a jumbled up series of semi-warm days that served as nothing more than a quick respite from life in the Arctic tundra. But God, was it beautiful. A perfect landscape for his new life, with a woman he didn't deserve by his side.
She owned a tattoo parlor, he found out, and was drowning trying to run the office and the creative end of things all on her own. He left his job at the garage and took over the books at the shop. And when her lease at her apartment ran out, she moved into the Airstream with him so that they could save up to buy a house. They would need the extra space soon.
"Babe," she called from her studio. "Could you bring me some paper towel?"
He grinned as he entered the room, a roll of paper towel tucked under his arm. She was quite possibly the most adorable pregnant woman he'd ever seen. He was excited to become a father, but would be sad to see her belly go. He loved everything about it, especially the way it made her waddle when she walked. But he would never tell her that. She'd probably rip his head off with her bare hands. She hated being pregnant, and couldn't wait for it to be over. They only had two months left to go.
"What happened?" he asked, eyeing the bottles of tattoo ink that had been knocked to the ground, their contents splattered across the black and white checkered floor.
She rubbed her belly, an embarrassed smile on her face. "Your daughter got in the way. Again."
"I got this," he chuckled. "You keep working on your sketch. The next appointment will be here in a half hour." Just then, the front door chimed open. "I got that, too. Just…don't slip. I'll be back in a minute to clean this up."
He was still laughing as he made his way into the lobby. It took him a minute to recognize the face of the man standing across the counter from him, but when he did, his heart stopped.
"You're a hard man to track down, Juice."
"Jax." The word stuck in his throat like a knife. "What are you doing here?" He knew why Jax was there. He'd come to kill him. And he would accept his fate. He'd outrun it for far longer than he expected to. But he had to keep Carly and the baby safe.
"Just visiting an old friend," Jax taunted. "You don't look too happy to see me."
"How'd you find me?"
Jax smiled, his eyes menacing. "It wasn't easy," he admitted. "But we weren't giving up." His hand rested on the knife he wore on his belt loop, and Juice found himself wishing he still carried a gun with him.
"Jax, please…"
"There it is," Jax sneered. "I was hoping you'd beg, remind me what a weak, pathetic little bitch you are."
Juice shook his head. "No. It's not that, I…"
"Babe?" Terror surged through him as Carly entered the room. "Is my appointment here?" She stopped when she saw the fear in Juice's eyes.
"No," he said, trying to regain his composure. "No, this is uh…an old friend of mine from back home." He gave Jax a pleading look. Once upon a time, the club didn't hurt women or children. He hoped the fact that Carly was two-in-one at the moment would work in her favor. But he had no clue what sort of monster Jax might have turned into since Tara's death. What something like that did to a man…
"A friend?" Carly's face was wrought with worry. She knew something was terribly wrong. He didn't have friends. And they never spoke of his past, let alone so freely. He offered her a reassuring smile.
"Yeah. A friend. He just came to talk. We're gonna go for a drive. You stay here. Your next appointment will be here soon." He turned back to Jax. Jax nodded in agreement. Juice bowed his head, grateful. He kissed Carly's lips and pressed his hand to her belly for the last time. "I love you so much," he whispered.
"Jesse, what's going on?"
"Nothing," he lied. "I'll be fine. But you have to do exactly as I say. Stay here. Do not call anyone. Do not do anything. Just stay here, take your appointments, listen to some music. I'll be back before you know it."
A frightened tear slid down her cheek. "You're scaring me."
"Don't be scared," he said, forcing a smile. "I'll see you soon." His heart broke as he followed Jax out the door. Carly hated lies. And her last memory of him would be of his biggest lie yet.
"Your kid?" Jax asked as he and Juice drove out of town.
Juice nodded. "A girl. Ava. Due in two months." As the last of the buildings in town gave way to nothing but thick rows of trees, he thought about how easy it would be for him to drive straight into them. If he timed it just right, he could all but ensure Jax's death. He'd be risking his own, as well, but at least he'd have a chance, which was more than he'd have if he let Jax carry out his plan. But Jax hadn't come alone, he was sure of that. And if Jax died, the club would go after Juice's family as retaliation. And he couldn't allow that.
"Too bad you won't be there when she's born," Jax said matter of factly, his voice devoid of any sort of emotion.
A tear rolled down Juice's cheek. "Jax, please," he whispered. "Don't hurt them. Carly and the baby have nothing to do with anything. Kill me, but leave them out of it. I never told her about the club." He chuckled, realizing something he'd long since forgotten. "Shit, she doesn't even know my real name. I'll go with you, accept my fate, whatever that is. But please, please don't punish my family for my sins."
His plea was met with silence, and when he looked over at Jax, he saw that his expression had changed. He no longer looked like an assassin on a mission, but a man lost in thought. Juice continued to drive, unsure if Jax even knew where they were going.
"I would have given my life to save Tara," Jax said quietly. "All she ever wanted was a life outside of Charming, away from the club. And I thought I had all the time in the world to give it to her. If I'd have known…"
The memory of that day came rushing back, and Juice felt a deep pain arise from within. "What happened to Tara was awful. I'm so sorry, Jax."
"What do you know about what happened to Tara?" Jax demanded, seeming to realize for the first time that there might be a connection between Tara's death and Juice's disappearance.
Juice saw an opportunity, and had to take it. He pulled the truck over to the side of the road and put it in park, turning toward Jax. "What do you know about what happened to Tara?" He could tell Jax was trying to maintain his cool. He still didn't know. Tara's murder must've gone unsolved. Maybe he could use what he knew as a bargaining chip.
Jax pulled his gun out of his waistband and held it to Juice's head. "This is not the time to fuck with me," he snarled. "Tell me what you know."
"I'll tell you everything," Juice agreed. "But only if you give me your word that you won't hurt Carly or the baby, that you'll leave them alone. And when it's done, you leave my body where someone will find it. I don't want her thinking I abandoned her. Deal?" Jax nodded, his jaw clenched. And so Juice told him the whole awful story, about running into Eli outside the house, hearing a crash, racing in and finding Gemma and Tara on the kitchen floor, covered in Tara's blood. He admitted to killing Eli, and to helping Gemma cover it all up. "And then I left," he finished. "I don't know why she did it, and I don't know how she's kept it a secret this long. I had nothing to do with any of that."
Jax was visibly shaking. He was trying to wrap his head around the truth Juice had just given him, and at the same time, convince himself that it was a lie. But he knew Juice had nothing to gain by lying, and everything to lose by telling the truth. Even in his unhinged state, Jax could clearly see that.
"My mother?" His voice broke, and Juice found himself wanting to comfort the man that was about to murder him in cold blood.
"I'm sorry Jax," he said quietly. "I really am."
For a long moment, they sat in silence, the only sound that of Jax's ragged breathing and the occasional passing car. All Juice could think of was Carly. She had to be out of her mind with worry. And soon, her worst fears would be confirmed. He would be gone, and she would be alone. With a baby. Would she tell their daughter about him? Would she mourn him? Or would he become the thing he always thought he should be to her, just a bad memory? Finally, after what felt like hours, Jax spoke.
"I came here to kill you," he said, as plainly as he might tell someone the sky is blue. "But how do I do that now? Tara warned me about Gemma so many times. She wanted her out of our lives so badly. I knew they had issues, but they loved each other too, you know? I never thought…" A sob escaped from his throat, and he pressed his hands to his face until he had himself under control again.
"Jax…"
"What you did…betraying the club. That's unforgivable. But what you've done since you left…building a legitimate life, starting a family. That was everything Tara wanted for us and the boys. And I can't help thinking, what if I'd given it to her? What if I'd betrayed the club to get out and start over? I would be you right now. Living in some bullshit town, doin' some bullshit job. With a happy wife, healthy kids. Not havin' to look over my shoulder every ten seconds."
"What are you saying?" Juice's heart was racing. For the first time since Jax walked into the tattoo shop, he had hope.
Jax shook his head, his eyes full of tears. "After what I allowed to happen to Tara, what kind of man would I be if I took a normal life away from another mother, another child?" With his thumb, he wiped away the tear that had spilled over onto his cheek. "I'm not gonna kill you, Juice. As long as you promise me that you'll never come back to Charming, and you'll never talk about SAMCRO to anyone."
"You got it," Juice agreed.
"You're dead to the club, and the club's dead to you. You just take care of your girls. Be a good husband, a good father."
"I will. I promise."
As they drove back into town, Juice felt like a new man, like he could finally live in the life he'd built for himself. He didn't have to be a ghost anymore.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked, breaking the long silence. "How did you find me?"
Jax chuckled. "One of the Diosa girls, actually. She's from here, I guess. Told one of the guys she thought she saw you when she was visiting family a few weeks ago. Decided to do some checking around, and viola."
"Jesus," Juice sighed. It was a Diosa whore who'd told him about Traverse City in the first place. Of course she would lead the club right to him. "What about the rest of the guys? Are they gonna be good with this?"
"Yeah," Jax said. "I'll make sure of it."
Juice could see Carly pacing anxiously in front of the shop's window as they pulled into the parking lot. He couldn't wait to get inside to her, to put his arms around her. Without a word, Jax got out of the truck and started walking back toward a car Juice didn't recognize. Probably a rental.
"Thank you, brother," he called after him. Jax gave him a quick nod before getting into the car and driving away. And just like that, Juice was free. He no longer had to live in SAMCRO's shadow. He had his whole life ahead of him. And he wasn't going to waste it. He was going to ask Carly to marry him. But first, he had to tell her everything. Starting with his real name.
~THE END~