Jase (Kennedy Ink.) by Jenny Wood

Author:Jenny Wood [Wood, Jenny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-05-11T18:30:00+00:00

Jase

“Stop.” I almost begged. I needed him to stop talking because the torture in his voice was excruciating. The agony in his words and the way he was trying to rewind what he’d said were too much. My heart broke for him for so many different reasons. No wonder he was so closed off all the damn time. How could somebody go through this over and over again? They couldn’t. It’d be easier just to keep everyone away as not to have to relive it.

“Finish it. Then what happened?” I ask quietly. His head was still shaking back and forth like he was trying to rid himself of the memories. I covered his face with my hands, much like he did mine and waited until he opened his haunted eyes and begged him to tell me. “Finish it, Jacob, tell me,” I said. Hesitantly and heartbreakingly cautious, he pressed his swollen, puffy lips to mine and just held them there. It was sweet and reverent, and I wiped the wet from his face like he did me.

“I went to prison.” He pulled back and whispered with his eyes closed. I closed mine too.

“How long?” I whispered, holding my breath in dreaded anticipation.

“Six and a half years.” He whimpered, and it was my undoing. I threw my arms around him and pulled him into me. I held onto him as tight as my arms would allow. He was big; much bigger than me and I wanted to fuse myself with him and give him what little strength I had.

It felt like hours that we sat that way; wrapped up in each other’s arms, crying and consoling. He murmured apology after apology, and I begged him to hear that I understood. I got it. I didn’t blame him, not really. I’d never been in that sort of situation, and I couldn’t tell you what I’d do if I ever were; but the thought of someone hurting someone that I loved, never mind killing them and getting away with it, made me downright murderous. Could I do it? Who’s to say, probably not; I wouldn’t have the balls. But if I were pushed to do something to protect my family, your damn right I would. The circumstance is a little different, and in no way, am I saying that it’s okay. But he done his time, he paid his penance, and he’s suffering from it every day. What can I do? What can I say? He’s suffering enough.

“In prison. There were things that I had to do to-“ I cut him off.

“What did you have to do? Did someone hurt you?” I ask, floored at the thought that someone might’ve hurt him in prison.

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He amended. “I mean, people tried to fuck with me, and it was kind of a do-or-die type of lifestyle. Every day I was on edge, every day I had to watch my back, or something could’ve happened. I did things I’m not proud of and I don’t even think I can tell you some things.

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