A Rock An A Hard Place

Introuducing haven jane mccarthy

Haven's POV

It's been quite a while since I last set foot in my hometown, a place that holds a tapestry of memories, both sweet and bitter. My husband, a Marine, tragically lost his life overseas; he was meant to return, but fate had other plans, leaving a gaping hole in my heart that I'm still trying to mend. Jaxon and I grew up here—he in Commerce and I in Jefferson. Our paths intertwined in ways that felt destined, yet life has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect them. I was part of the rough crowd, a wild spirit with a penchant for rebellion, while my father, Randon Jamison, now runs the new bike shop in town, a venture that has become a community hub. My brother, also named Jamison cage , serves as the county sheriff for Jackson County and is the vice president of the local motorcycle club, with my dad as the president. It's amusing to think that a sheriff oversees an MC, but he manages to keep both worlds distinct, navigating the fine line between law enforcement and brotherhood with a deftness that often leaves me in awe. Currently, I'm living with my brother and his wonderful wife, Michelle, who has been like the best sister-in-law I could ask for. She encouraged me to move in with them after Jaxon passed away a year ago, recognizing that I needed the support and love of family during such a tumultuous time. At 28, almost 29, I never imagined I would find myself a widow, grappling with the weight of loss and the uncertainty of my future. Jaxon would have been 38 today, and the thought of celebrating his birthday without him feels surreal, like a cruel joke played by the universe. Today marks my first day at the bike shop, a place that feels both familiar and foreign. I've struggled with shyness since childhood, a trait that often left me feeling like an outsider even in my own skin. There's a best friend from my past whom I haven't reached out to since I got married—it's been about 15 years. I hear he's recently separated, according to Michelle, and the news stirs a mix of nostalgia and regret within me. His initials are tattooed on me, the only ink I have, a permanent reminder of our bond that once felt unbreakable. I remember that night vividly; we were both quite intoxicated, laughter spilling into the air like confetti. He jokingly said he would brand me so I returned home with his initials, B.K.G, inked on my skin, accompanied by two pistols beneath them. The tattoos were a testament to a bond that transcended the ordinary, a mark of the adventures and secrets we shared. Jaxon always understood the unique connection we had; he never felt jealous, though there were moments I wished he would. It was a strange feeling, wanting him to acknowledge the depth of my feelings for B, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. I often found myself caught in a whirlwind of emotions, torn between the love I had for Jaxon and the undeniable pull I felt towards B. Over the years, I've kept in touch with a few friends like Kolby, Ashley, Eli, and Becky. Each of them held a special place in my heart, but none quite like Becky. She was my confidante, my rock, especially after my mother passed away when I was very young. Losing her left a gaping hole in my life, one that my dad struggled to fill. He did his best to raise me, but he was a man grappling with his own grief, often overwhelmed by the tears of a little girl nursing a broken heart. I remember the way he would try to comfort me, his voice thick with emotion, but there were times when he simply didn't know how to reach me. I vividly recall being at B's house when I was around 14, a time when everything felt so new and confusing. It was the day I got my first period, a moment that should have been marked with a sense of womanhood but instead was filled with embarrassment and uncertainty. B's mom, ever the nurturing figure, noticed my distress and immediately called my dad. I could hear the concern in her voice as she explained the situation. My dad, caught off guard, admitted to Becky that he had no idea how to handle it. I could picture him on the other end of the line, his brow furrowed, trying to find the right words to say. Becky, with her calm demeanor, reassured him, saying, "Randon, I'll talk to her and take her to get what she needs." Her words were a balm to my frayed nerves. I felt a wave of relief wash over me, knowing that I had someone who understood. Meanwhile, B's younger brother, blissfully unaware of the gravity of the situation, innocently pointed out that I had ketchup stains on my pants, not realizing it was actually my period. The I found myself lost in thought, vividly recalling a memory from the past that felt both distant and achingly close. I could picture myself clearly: my reddish-brown hair, often tied up in a neat bun, framing my face, accentuating the roundness of my cheeks. My curvy figure was something I had always embraced, though I often chose outfits that covered me completely, perhaps as a way to shield myself from the world's judgment. The glasses perched on my nose were a constant companion, a reminder of my studious nature and the way I preferred to observe rather than participate in the chaos around me. But as I drifted deeper into this recollection, the warmth of those memories began to fade, replaced by the cold reality of my marriage. Things had taken a turn for the worse, and I could feel the weight of that truth pressing down on me. Jaxson, my husband, who was older and had once been my rock, had made it abundantly clear that he didn't want children. At first, I was fine with that; I had my own dreams and aspirations that didn't necessarily include motherhood. He had even undergone a vasectomy, a definitive step that seemed to solidify our shared understanding. Yet, beneath the surface of our seemingly stable life, a storm was brewing. Jaxson's confession about hooking up with his ex-wife during our breaks shattered the fragile trust we had built. The revelation hit me like a punch to the gut, and I could still remember the way my heart raced as I processed his words. It was a betrayal that nearly led us to divorce just before his last deployment, a time when I had hoped we would be drawing closer together, not drifting apart. Our communication had completely broken down, leaving us both feeling isolated in our own worlds. I could see the distance in his eyes, a reflection of the emotional chasm that had formed between us. And then there was Denise, his ex-wife, a specter that loomed over our relationship. She seemed to revel in the chaos she created, whispering doubts into Jaxson's ear, telling him I was too young to settle down, that he should have returned to her instead. It was infuriating, especially considering how much she had once despised his career as a Marine, the very thing that had drawn us together in the first place. As I sat there, lost in thought, I couldn't help but wonder how we had arrived at this point. The memories of laughter and love felt like a A wave of emotions crashed over me, and I allowed myself to feel it all, tears streaming down my face. The weight of the moment was heavy, but I knew I had to pull myself together. I took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill my lungs, and composed myself before stepping back into the shop. The familiar scent of oil and metal greeted me, a comforting reminder of the countless hours I had spent here, surrounded by the sounds of clinking tools and the hum of machinery. I made my way to the back office to grab some work orders for the computer, my heart still racing from the emotional whirlwind I had just experienced. As I entered the office, I felt a sense of anticipation. I was eager to chat with Eli, my dad's head mechanic, who had always been a steady presence in my life. He was more than just a mechanic; he was a mentor, a friend, and a part of my family. His wife, Ashleigh , and my three wonderful godchildren were also a big part of my life, and I cherished the moments we spent together. Just as I was about to sit down at the computer, I noticed Cam, Eli's son, who was nearly 18 now. He approached me while chatting with his dad, his youthful energy radiating as he walked over. Cam wrapped me in a warm hug, and I felt a rush of affection. "Hey, Aunt Haven! How are you?" he asked, his voice bright and cheerful. "I'm good, Cam,"I replied, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. "How about you? I saw the 99 out front; it looks great!" He chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Actually, it's Uncle B's bike. He gave it to me as a birthday gift from him and dad . Eli chimed in, laughing heartily, "That bike has seen some serious miles and memories," he said, winking at me knowingly. I couldn't help but join in the laughter, the warmth of their camaraderie wrapping around me like a cozy blanket. As I walked back to the office, a smile crept onto my face, and I found myself lost in memories. I couldn't help but reminisce about the first time B took me for a ride when I was just 16. He had just turned 22 and was so proud of his new bike. I could still hear my dad's voice echoing in my mind, warning him to drive slowly after