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Dark Needs (The Dark Light of Day #1.5) Page 8
Author: T.M. Frazier

I sighed. "She deserves better than me as her mom."

"That’s a fucking cop out, and you know it. All parents are fucked up. We are just fucked up in a different kind of way. Now spill it, woman," he demanded. "Tell me what is going on in that beautiful red head of yours."

"I still see them." I blurted.

"Still see what?"

"I still see my scars. Every day. Even under all the tattoos, I still see right past the colors and right to the marks. Every single fucking day of my life, I'm reminded of what happened, what that bitch did, and even if it's just for a minute, I remember what it felt like." My eyes started to water, blurring my vision. "I remember the hurt. I feel it all over again. I don't want to feel it anymore."

Jake softly ran his fingertips across the largest scar that started on my shoulder and slowly traced it down to my elbow and back up again. His go-to way to way of comforting me. "I can't imagine how badly it hurt, Bee."

"Not there," I said.

"No?"

"No," I took his hand and placed it over my heart. "Here. It hurts here."

Jake scooped me up like I weighed nothing and sat back down in the chair, arranging me on his lap like an infant, cradling me in his arms and holding me tightly to his chest.

"I don't want your heart to hurt. Tell me what I can do to make it better," Jake said, his voice strained.

"It hurts me that Georgia might feel like this someday."

"Her scars are still healing, baby. We will do whatever it takes to make it so she doesn't hurt. But you can't be worried about what she will or won't feel. We have to take this day by day, or you're going to make yourself crazy."

"I know," I sniffled.

"What can I do to make it better?" He kissed the top of my head.

"I don't know that there is anything you can do. You can't wipe my memories away. You can't make me think of something else when I see the marks. It was so much better for a while. So much easier than it used to be. Then Georgia got hurt, and now it's like I'm right back where I started."

"We, baby. We," Jake said. "You don't have to go through this alone. We're a family, and we will fix this as a family."

"But you can't fix it."

"No, but I can help you," Jake said.

"How?" I whispered.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." I didn't even hesitate. Jake is the only person in the world I did trust. He was Georgia's father. He helped me to feel again when I thought I was going to live my life without ever knowing what it was like to be close to anyone. There was no reason NOT to trust him.

"I’ve been thinking about something. Something that could help. Stay here for a minute," Jake ordered, lightly pushing me off of him. He stood and pulled his cell from his pocket pressing one of the speed dial buttons.

After a few seconds of ringing, I heard someone pick up.

"Bethany," Jake said stoically. Why was he calling Bethany? Usually I was the middleman between Bethany and Jake. They rarely spoke, and it's not like I blame them. Bethany spawned Owen and tried to protect him when she knew what he'd done, but I'd already looked past it. Anytime I feel the anger or resentment toward her that I once felt, I just remember how it felt to set her house on fire, and I'm quickly brought back to feeling that all is right between us.

The new Bethany barely resembled the old one, and her love for Georgia, the granddaughter she never had, had been a big part of setting things right in my eyes. Bethany had spent the last year proving to our family that she was worthy enough to be a part of it.

"Yup. Yeah. Everything is fine. Georgia is great. Yeah," he said rather rudely. "Can you come and sit with Georgia for a bit? She's asleep, but I need to take the boat out for a spin to make sure it's seaworthy for the morning, and I need Bee to come and be my second eyes and ears." There was a short pause, then Jake ended the call without saying good-bye.

"You know, for someone who can be so charming, you really can be a total twat, sometimes," I said.

"Did you just call me charming?" Jake laughed. Off course, that would be the thing that got his attention, not being called a twat. Even in the dim light of the back porch, Jake’s smile was brilliant. Being able to see him smile on a daily basis and or laugh on occasion was worth every single second of time we'd spent apart.

I ignored his question. "If you needed help with the boat, why didn't we just do it earlier?" I asked. We'd had a great day as a family. Jake worked on the boat a bit. Georgia ran through the sprinklers in the back yard, and I sat in my favorite chair on the patio, reading a book, glancing over the pages every so often to make sure my family was still there, and that it was all still real.

And it was.

It was getting late, and it was already dark. It would be hard to check the boat for anything under these conditions.

"Shhhhh, baby. You'll see. You said I couldn't make it better for you. I think there is a way I can," Jake said, pressing a finger over my partially opened mouth. I glared at him and bit the tip of his finger. He pulled back his hand, and his jaw dropped open.

"Oh, Bee," he said, his voice full of warning, or was it promise? "You're gonna pay for that one." Briefly sucking on the tip of the finger I'd just bit.

Bethany arrived within a few minutes of Jake’s call. The second he opened the door, she scooted past him into the house.

"Come on in," Jake said sarcastically, closing the door behind her. Bethany had already settled herself on the couch and was riffling through the contents of her tote bag.

"You two get where you need to be. I'm fine here," she said, pulling out two knitting needles and some pink yarn. Whatever project was attached to the needles looked pretty ragged.

"Knitting?" I asked her, gesturing to her hands, and she began to absentmindedly knit. Bethany, the once sharp as a tack, uber powerful lawyer whose claws were almost as sharp as her tongue was sitting on my couch, in my living room, knitting. It was bafflingly out of character for her.

Bethany crossed the needles over one another, her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated. Her foot tapped along with her knitting pace.

She barely paused to breathe when she spoke. "Well, yeah, since I don't have a job anymore to keep me occupied, I needed something to take up some of my time so I don't die of boredom. My shrink suggested I get a hobby so I went on the iPad, and I watched a few of those YouTube videos, or whatever they are called, you know, the ones where a ten year old with a video camera can basically teach you everything you need to know and make you feel old as dirt at the same time? So here we are, halfway to a sweater for Georgia." Bethany had quit her job as the district attorney shortly after Georgia was hurt. In her words 'her 'right and wrong' radar needed a reset, and she couldn't do that and still be the pit-bull lawyer without a conscious she was paid to be.

Bethany held up the small scrap of something that was connected to the needles, I could see the disappointment on her face through the two big holes in the middle of the patch. She shook her head. "It's a work in progress." She said, starting her knitting again. "Over, under, and through." She muttered as she furrowed her brows and squinted down at her work.

"We'll be back in a little while," I assured her. Not actually sure how long whatever it was Jake had planned would take. "Thanks for coming over on such short notice." Before I turned to go, Bethany looked up from her project, her eyes watery.

Thank you. She mouthed to me, and in a flash, she was again back to knitting. "Take your time. I'll be at this darn thing all night anyway." The impatient biting tone back in her voice.

Jake didn't say good bye to Bethany. He didn't say anything for that matter. He opened the sliding glass doors and ushered me through, following closely behind me. Jake took my hand and led me down the backyard to the dock, and when we got there, he sat me down on a plastic bench that doubled as a storage trunk for all of Georgia's pink fishing gear. I picked up a little pink visor with the words DADDYS LITTLE FISHING GIRL monogramed across the front that had fallen behind the bench. I ran my fingers over the raised lettering and sighed to myself.

We'd come so far in such a short period of time. Georgia and Jake both acted like they'd always been part of each other’s lives. Sure, I may have birthed her and fed her and clothed her on my own for years, but then Jake showed up and BOOM.

Daddy's little girl to her very core.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

In my life, I'd never experienced the type of love that exists between a father and daughter. The closest thing I ever had to a father was Jake's dad Frank, and although he would always hold a special place in my heart for all he did for me and Georgia, he was rarely sober enough to show off the fatherly side of himself.

I knew nothing of the love between a parent and child until Georgia came along, and she became my entire world.

Watching Jake with Georgia was always a new experience for me. They wore their love for each other on their sleeves. There was no doubt that when anyone looked at the two of them together that they would see that they were enamored with one another.

I know Jake loved me, and that love was limitless. But I knew that the love he felt for Georgia was on a whole other level.

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T.M. Frazier's Novels
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