AN: I know it feels like these couple of chapters have just been filler, and they definitely are. I'm working to move the story along, but don't want it to move so fast it seems unrealistic. We're slowly coming up on the next big plot piece. I promise we're getting there! Also, I've had a few people not real sure about the way I'm portraying Tara. Her comment on the show that she didn't hate Charming, just her in it at the time always stuck with me. I feel like I'm writing true to that so, if you're feeling she's a bit too rebellious or "not Tara-like" just know that I think she experienced tremendous growth in the years she was away from Charming and that's where I'm basing her character from.
Jax POV
We dropped Ryan and Tara off and then Frankie, Opie and I headed back to my house. Opie had been quietly staring out the window ever since we'd dropped off Tara. He seemed to be turning something over in his mind. After another long minute stretched on, I turned down the Pantera song we'd be blaring and gave him a nudge.
He looked at me and I raised my chin in a question.
"Nothing man, just thinking," he replied.
"Obviously, bro. About?" I pressed.
Opie shrugged his broad shoulders. He looked like he wanted to say something but clenched his jaw and diverted his eyes back to the window.
He seemed unusually pensive. Opie was always more of the strong, silent type but something seemed to really have a grip on him.
"You get into it with someone at the cages or something?" I asked, wondering if I'd missed something go down. I was pretty sure I would've noticed an altercation, but smashing in the cages had done wonders for me and it was possible I'd zoned out.
He picked his head up. "What? No. No, nothing like that."
I looked at him to continue but he didn't.
I raised my eyebrows and looked to Frankie who offered a shrug in return.
I was about to turn the music back up when he turned back to me.
"Was I a dick to Tara when you guys broke up?" he asked.
I wasn't sure where that had come from, but it seemed to be related to what was on his mind.
I thought about it for a minute, really considering his question before I answered. "No, bro. I mean, I don't think so. Unless something happened that I didn't know about." I paused for a second. "What's goin' on, Ope?"
Opie stared out into the windshield. "I don't know, brother. Just something Tara said. It's bugging me."
The words hung in the cab, dangling, awaiting an explanation. When none followed, Frankie actually spoke up.
"Uh, you gonna tell us what that means exactly?"
Opie cracked his knuckles, seeming to not want to answer the question.
"Dude, are you really not gonna tell us?" I asked, genuinely surprised and also slightly agitated.
Frankie reached up in his visor, took out a pack of battered Camels, kept one for himself and tossed the pack across the cab to Opie.
"Do I have to bribe you?" Frankie asked.
Opie's eyebrows cinched in annoyance but he took a cigarette and lit it anyway. "Since when do you give a shit about Tara?" Opie asked. The edge of malice in his voice surprised me and Frankie both.
"Whoa, bro. What's your deal? I mean, fuck. Tara's cool I guess. But I was really asking why you were so pissed off about whatever it is she said. But if you're gonna be a little bitch about it…." Frankie told him, clearly affronted.
"Opie," I said more sternly, seeing that this was obviously more serious than I had thought. If something was going on with Tara, I had a right to know, boyfriend or not.
Opie angrily puffed on his cigarette. "You know what she told me when I asked her about her and Adam? She said she liked him because it was nice that someone actually gave a shit about her. What is that shit?" he asked heatedly.
Neither of us really knew how to respond to that, so we let him continue his vent.
"She's with him because she thinks it's nice that someone wants to look out for her and she hasn't had anyone do that since her mom died. That when you guys split, we chose your side. Just because I wasn't hanging out with her didn't mean I chose your side."
A look of confusion crossed Frankie's face but I was starting to understand. Opie was the type of person who prided himself on protecting his own and Tara must've told him that he hadn't.
"Who got that asshole to quit dealing to her? Who broke that dude's fucking face so he would quit fucking with her?"
He paused and looked at me, this time wanting an answer.
"Come on, man. Look at it from where she's sitting. She doesn't know you did all that shit. As far as she knows, her dealer left town. And as for that other dipshit… you know how Tara is. She probably thought he just wanted an easy fuck and bailed." I shrugged. "She was pretty fucked up for a while bro, she probably doesn't even remember that dude's name."
Opie's eyes turned dark. "Well she wasn't fucked up cuz of me," he bit back.
It was a low blow, but I deserved it. I fucked Tara over when she was in a vulnerable spot and she spiraled out harder than she already had been. And apparently, she felt like she'd been abandoned by everyone in the process. And Opie didn't abandon people.
"Why do you care so much?" Frankie asked.
The question caused Opie to balk. "Are you seriously asking me that?"
Frankie glanced at him from the corner of his eye before turning back to the road.
"Yeah," Frankie continued cautiously. "I mean, I don't want to sound like a dick but why would anyone care if you did pick Jax over her? He's your best friend. Since you were born practically. And Tara's just a girl," he concluded with a dismissive shrug.
"She's not 'just a girl'," I chimed in, hoping to quell some of the rage firing in Opie's irises.
Frankie rolled his eyes. "I know why you say that shit, bro. She's always been your bottom bitch but –"
I shoved him hard, causing him to jerk the wheel slightly before he recovered. "Don't fucking talk about her like that," I warned him.
Frankie shook me off angrily. "Don't get mad at me for calling it like I see it, bro. No wonder she fucking said whatever she said to Opie. She was down for you but you wanted more. You wanted to play with her; make her jealous; make her prove she loved you even though you sure as shit weren't proving anything to her. And you lost her. That's your fault. And now you only want her cuz you can't have her. If Adam dropped her ass tomorrow, you'd take her out for another spin just to prove you could then she'd be back to hanging out with Kristina and it would be back to just us guys. I know why you let her hang out so much. I'm not stupid. You get the glory if you steal her from Adam and then you drop her ass as soon as you're bored." Frankie paused before looking at Opie. "But that still don't explain why you got your panties in a bunch."
"You don't know shit." I told him murderously, contemplating telling him to pull over and let me walk before I punched him in his fat fucking mouth.
Opie laughed without humor. "Maybe he knows more than you think."
His comment sent every muscle in my body tense, taking every ounce of self-control to stop myself from lashing back at one or both of them. I glared at him and turned the music back up, drowning out any hope of continued conversation.
Frankie stopped in front of my house and Opie hopped out as well.
"I can walk from here," he told Frankie.
Wordlessly, Frankie threw him a deuce and drove off. Opie silently turned to head the opposite direction toward his place.
He made it a few houses before I called out to him.
"You know Frankie's wrong, right?"
Opie's hulking figure turned slowly. "Is he?"
"Come on, bro. I know I fucked up. But just because shit went sour doesn't mean I don't 'give a shit about her'. Even if we never got back together, I'd still give a shit."
I could see his shadow shrug through the darkness. "I guess we'll see, huh?"
"Yeah. Yeah, we will," I challenged.
"See you tomorrow, bro" Opie replied as he turned back to head home.
XOXOXOX
Tara POV
I lay on my bed, doodling absently on the bright white paper covering the Biology book in front of me. I'd lost interest in the chapters but kept waiting, hoping Adam would call soon. The radio station had gone through its entire play list and was now repeating the same songs again. Not that I didn't love Eve 6, but one could only hear "Inside Out" so many times before losing their mind. Adam had taught me all the words and it was fun trying to keep up with the lyrics together, but hearing it over and over was also slightly maddening.
Bored, I stretched, got up and padded down to the kitchen for a glass of water. Beer cans were scattered around my dad's feet as he sat slumped over in his recliner, completely passed out. It crossed my mind to try to get him to bed, but I thought better of it. It was usually best not to poke the bear. As the anniversary of my mom's death loomed on the horizon, there was no telling which version of him would make an appearance and I had never been much for gambling.
I grabbed some water and headed back to my room, closing and locking the door behind me. I went to the back corner of my closet, pulled back the loosened carpet edge and grabbed for the half empty pill bottle I'd hidden between my floor boards, anxiously popping a few before returning them to their hiding place. Some kids hid drugs from their parents so they didn't get in trouble. While finding narcos would've surely given my dad another excuse to rampage, I mostly hid them so he wouldn't steal them from me for his personal use. It was bad enough taking care of him when he was sloppy drunk but I didn't want to find him dead from some self-induced drug and booze cocktail.
I closed my eyes and let the pills lull me for a while. I wasn't sure how much time had passed when my text alert went off. I grabbed it and saw Adam's name light up.
"Sorry so late. Ma's not doing so hot. I'm gonna try to get her to bed. I'll pick you up in the morning."
I sighed, half disappointed that I wouldn't talk with him and half sad that his mother's binges seemed to be getting worse and worse.
"No worries. See you in the morning. XOXO" I replied.
I felt pretty bad for him. I guess I understood how he felt, but I was use to the verbal abuses my father conjured up at me after a long night (or day) of drinking. Adam wasn't. I'd almost become numb to it. Sure, every now and then he'd come up with some particularly cutting remark, but as a whole, I'd found myself desensitized to my father's abuses over the years. It was almost like dealing with a petulant whiny child, just with a deeper voice and a penchant for aggression.
As for Adam, well it seemed his time away at military school had made him forget, had even given him a little hope; hope that she wasn't as bad as he remembered; hope that maybe, just maybe, time had healed her wounds. Unfortunately, whatever fairytale he'd hoped for was exactly that… a fairytale. She'd found out that he'd been hanging around TM sometimes and became particularly enraged when Gemma offered for the umpteenth time over the years to help her out financially. Mrs. Woodley had spit all types of vitriol at Adam for that, accusing him of bad mouthing her to the Queen – a queen she blamed for her husband's death and her own subsequent downfall.
It amazed me how Mrs. Woodley had seemed to have forgotten the part she had played in things. Sure, drinking had been her coping mechanism, and she could be blamed for that for sure. But years ago she had been one of SAMCRO's staunchest supporters. She and Gemma and Mary had been thick as thieves when we were young. She never batted an eye at Mr. Woodley's criminal activity back then. Maybe if she had fought; for him to get out; for them to raise their son away from the club, maybe then her husband would still be alive and she'd have the happy family she envisioned in her mind. But she hadn't. She'd embraced the club with every inch of her being and she and her family had sadly paid a high price. They had known what the life could bring and they had decided that the comradery and family SAMCRO gave them was worth the risk. It was hard for me to imagine doing a complete 180* like that, death or not. SAMCRO was her family too. The club wasn't to blame for the decisions the two of them made. She and her husband were. Maybe that's really why she drank.
I glanced at the clock which now read 1:23am. Even with the pills, it didn't feel like there was any hope of sleep in sight. I grabbed a pack of smokes and a 1/5 of vodka I'd stolen from my dad's stash months ago and heaved the window open. The porch awning was right below my window so I crawled out to my usual spot, lay back with my drink and my smoke and watched the stars until I eventually faded to black.
