Jersey Six - Jewel E Ann Page 0,86

me like parents should love their child. They gave me a family, a family that didn’t have fucked-up secrets. They hugged me, but never inappropriately. They didn’t watch me shower or dress. They didn’t crawl into my bed at night and tell me how special I was for letting them touch me.”

Ian swallowed hard; his face warped with pain.

“I dreamed, Coop. Not just of getting out of a bad situation. Not of anyone dying so I didn’t have to be abused. I dreamed real dreams. Dreams of a future. Friends coming over for sleepovers. Shopping for prom dresses. Being adopted and having real parents. Choosing a college. Getting a job. Buying a car …” She grunted a laugh. “A driver’s license. I dreamed of having freedom. The fucking American dream.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn’t ready for his meaningless “I’m sorrys.” She didn’t want an apology. Jersey wanted a confession and an explanation. When she watched him take his last breath, she needed to know there was nothing left to say.

“Their names…” she continued before he interrupted “…were Charles and Dena Russell. I should have been Jersey Russell.” She shook her head a half dozen times. “No. Not even that. Not Jersey. Nothing to remind me of how worthless I was to my mother.

“I mean … who leaves their baby at a fire station? And then why show up months later, acting like you’re ready to be a mom when you’re high? Why ruin your child’s chance of being adopted into a good family by holding on to some stupid string of hope that you’re going to get your shit together?”

“Jersey …” Ian’s voice cracked.

“No.” Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “You’re not allowed to feel sorry for me. I … I was going to have a family. Shortly after they placed me with Dena and Charles, my birth mom died. She OD’d. And since there was no record anywhere of my biological father, the Russells would have been able to adopt me. And…” she blew out a quick breath and lifted her gaze to the ceiling “…I would have been Rachel or Abigail … maybe a Heather. Heather Russell. Something common, simple, normal.”

Nothing.

Ian gave her absolutely nothing.

Not a flinch.

Not a blink of recognition.

Not a drop of blood draining from his face at the mention of Charles and Dena.

Was he innocent?

Or ruthless?

“Do you know how they died?” She pinned him with a look, daring him to move. Daring him to lie. Daring him to run one more step from the truth and the consequences.

“I’m having Chris removed from my house.”

Her eyebrows lifted up her forehead. “Excuse me?”

Ian gnashed his teeth. “I don’t like him texting you, calling you, filling your head with lies.”

And just like that, Jersey’s world tipped onto its side. Kind Ian vanished, and the monster emerged. She crossed a line, and he wasn’t ready to let her see what was on the other side. He wanted to get rid of the gatekeeper.

“How horrible, Ian?” She pushed away from the table and stood, balling her hands.

“Now I’m Ian?”

Her nose burned with emotion, tears like acid, rage like an inferno. Every inch of her body vibrated with anger. “It was an early Friday morning. Charles and Dena took their usual morning walk together. They trusted me to stay at home with the three younger kids. We were usually still asleep by the time they returned.

“Hand in hand. That’s how they always walked, like sharing their love with abandoned children only intensified their love for each other. They were never gone more than an hour. I knew … I just knew something wasn’t right. It was almost lunchtime when several cars parked out front; two of them were police cars. I don’t remember their exact words. I just remember the ones in my head. You’re not getting real parents and a new name. You’re not going shopping for a prom dress. You’re not going to college. You’re once again … unloved.”

“You’re not un—”

“I am!” She pounded her fists on the table, knocking the glass bottle over, sending water running off the edge of it.

The ghost of sympathy on Ian’s face hardened into something else, something she couldn’t quite identify.

“Lyrics don’t mean anything, if you don’t give me everything. And even if I want to let myself believe that Chris loves me, I know it’s because I’m all he has. Our love isn’t real. I’m not a choice for him. I’m just his only option. But some day