all part of the limelight. Comes wit’ the territory of bein’ a rock star. I can’t imagine for one second your momma bein’ okay wit’ you in this lifestyle. Are you tellin’ me the truth or blowin’ smoke up my ass to try to convince me to come back wit’ you?”
“Jackson is an NFL god. She knows what the press is capable of. It isn’t what the tabloids are saying about you that gets to us, Cash. It’s the fact that you haven’t come home in over twelve years. The last time anyone saw you in person, you were wiping blood off your mouth. Fighting with your father.”
Truth.
Journey had always been mature, wise beyond her years, an old soul at heart. Only proving it more and more as the days went on.
“What do you know ’bout me and Harley?”
“I know you don’t talk, and you haven’t since Bailey came into the picture. She didn’t tell me why, but I’ve never asked. Although I’ve wanted to hundreds of times. I didn’t want to pry into someone else’s business. If she wanted me to know, she’d tell me.” She paused, preparing herself. “For the longest time, Harley wasn’t herself. She didn’t smile, laugh, or enjoy being around family. She isolated herself, much like you have for all these years. Harley changed, though.”
“When?”
“After Jackson was injured, and they found out the truth about his future.”
I was winded. She stole my goddamn breath right outta my burning lungs. “Your momma,” I whispered, high enough for her to hear. Referring to their biological mom’s illness.
Journey bit, “She’s not my mother.”
She rendered me speechless. Up until this moment, I hadn’t given it any thought. To be completely honest, I’d never given it any thought. Journey was always a sweet, caring kid. I knew what had happened with their momma. Shit, I was at her funeral. The thought of Junie carrying the same gene as her mother’s untimely demise never crossed my mind.
What the fuck?
“Camila is my mom. My biological mother means nothing to me.”
The tone of her voice.
The look in her eyes.
The expression on her face.
I recognized it all too clearly.
“Whoa, Junie.”
Did she take the test? What isn’t she telling me?
She smiled, playing it off like I didn’t realize the hate searing off her body. Burning a fuckin’ hole into my chest. The abrupt desire to feel her skin against my fingers was just as overpowering as everything else had been since I first laid eyes on her. Suddenly, a feeling of protectiveness took over me in a way that not even seeing her with Lars brought out.
All I knew was I wanted her.
In any way, shape, or form I could have her. I needed Journey like the blood in my veins.
I couldn’t, wouldn’t let her go.
I didn’t know what kind of response I was expecting from her in regard to my proposal. I did know I wasn’t expecting to be turned down so damn quickly. She was the only good thing in my life other than my bandmates. Selfishly, I wanted to keep her by my side. I wasn’t used to people telling me no. It was a hard pill to swallow, especially coming from Journey.
I gripped onto the side of her face, slowly brushing my thumb along her lips. Terrified of her response. “You take the gene carrier test, baby?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Jesus Christ, Junie,” I exhaled all in one breath. “Don’t ever do that to me again. So you came up negative? You ain’t carryin’ the gene?”
“No.”
“Then what’s wit’ the disdain?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just stating the truth. Camila is the only mother I’ve ever known. I don’t consider that woman anything other than the person who gave birth to me.”
“Kinda harsh, Junie. Don’t ya think?”
“How did this conversation become about me?”
“Jour—”
“Anyway.” She changed the subject. “After they found out Jackson was negative, Harley became herself again. She was happy. They were happy.”
I didn’t want to upset her. It was obvious changing the subject for the time being was in my best interest. This conversation wasn’t over. It was far from over.
Unable to resist, I inquired, “What does Bailey know ’bout me?”
“She knows you’re part of our extended family, the son of Uncle Dylan and Aunt Aubrey. Nothing has changed in our traditions, Cash. We still go to the MC clubhouse every Sunday. We spend holidays and birthdays together and celebrate monumental moments as a family. She also knows you are a musician. She loves your band and thinks it’s