It's Hard Not to Hate - An Outlaw Love Story

Chapter Thirty-One.

The night was eerily quiet as Jax cut the engine on his bike, tucking it up against the side of the house next to Taylor's car. He removed his helmet and flipped his hat back around before taking large strides towards the door. He had tried to reach Taylor a few times before he left the clubhouse, each time to no avail, and he was beginning to worry, a multitude of concerns swirling in his mind. He hoped that, if anything, she was just mad at him for missing the appointment, that he could just apologize and explain and life would go on. The other alternative, the one he dreaded to even consider, was that the news she had received was drowning her, and he hadn't even been there to try to keep her afloat.

Silence surrounded him as he stepped from the garage into the kitchen. There were boxes stacked high around the edges of the room, Taylor's writing scrawled on the sides of them, the ones in sight all labeled 'kitchen'. The only sound was the quiet hum of the refrigerator. Jax pulled the carton of orange juice from the fridge and as he took a swig he noticed a piece of paper on the table; he grabbed it with his free hand, his eyes scanning the words that were scribbled on it.

Took Abel home with me tonight. Take care of her. Call me if you need me. XO Mom

Jax tossed the paper back onto the table, the empty carton soon following, as as he stripped his kutte and holster from his body he hollered, "Taylor? Baby?" There was no response, and he could feel his heart picking up its pace. He kicked his shoes off by the front door and started down the hall, his socks sliding across the wood floors. "Tay?" He hollered again. As he got further he could hear the sound of the shower running, and he allowed his body to relax slightly. "Babe?" He spoke softer this time, pushing open the bathroom door and taking a deep breath of the steam that had filled the small room.

Jax's eyes immediately fell downward, falling on where Taylor sat on the floor of the shower, her arms wrapped around her bent legs, the water cascading over her, her forehead resting against her knees. She sat in silence, not responding to Jax's call, not even bothering to look up at him. It was then he knew, knew that his fears had come true. He could practically feel his heart crack within his chest.

Taylor finally lifted her head as Jax pried open the shower door and stepped inside, fully clothed, squeezing himself between her and the wall. He sunk down next to her, his clothes soaked through. Taylor managed to move enough to look at him, she could see the tears sparkling in his eyes; he knew.

"It's back," she muttered, her voice cracking. Her eyes remained dry, she hadn't been able to will herself to cry, though that's what she desperately needed. She was just numb, angry, shocked. In the hours since her doctor shared the news she hadn't been able to process it, she had no words, not many thoughts, just nothing. Emptiness.

Jax pushed the wet hair from his face and kissed her bare shoulder, hoping the water was disguising his tears.

"What can I do for you baby? I'll do anything."

After what felt like minutes of silence, Taylor blinked, looking directly into Jax's eyes as the first tear began to fall from her own.

"Please don't leave me."

*****

"I love you, darlin. I promise you I'm not going anywhere." Jax's words came out as a whisper. He knew Taylor couldn't hear him, she had fallen asleep half an hour before wrapped tightly in his arms in their bed. The only other sentence she had managed to muster since they left the shower was a quiet I love you as she dozed off.

He peppered soft kisses over her cheeks and forehead as he held her close, over and over. A tear rolled off his nose, landing on Taylor's chin, and he could feel his heart breaking for her as her earlier words repeated in his mind.

Please don't leave me, she had said. The fact that she even felt the need to utter those words killed him, but he understood. He knew that it had nothing to do with him or her faith in him, but rather her history and the abandonment she still carried around with her.

Jax carefully pulled his arm from under her still body, tucking the blanket around her and leaving one final, lingering kiss on her forehead before tip-toeing out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. He could feel his breathing becoming rapid and erratic, tears falling quicker the more steps he took. He wanted to be strong for her, she would need him to lean on for support through the upcoming days and weeks. Right now, though, he was the furthest thing from strong. He was broken, too, in a different way; broken for her.

He knew he needed to get it all out, allow himself to grieve, so he could be the man she needed him to be. Collapsing on the couch he pulled out his phone, extending his legs and resting his feet on a box that sat before him. He dialed Tig's number, needing someone, anyone, to talk to.

"Hey, man, you good?" Tig asked as he answered. Jax worked to silence his sniffles.

"I've been better. You got a minute?"

"I've got all the time in the world for you, brother. What's going on?"

"It's Taylor. She has cancer." The line was silent for a while, Jax's labored breathing echoing in Tig's ear.

"I'll be right over," was all the response he received before the line went dead. Jax tossed his phone next to him as sobs began to overtake him, one after another, loud and sloppy. He couldn't contain them.

Cancer.

The word echoed over and over in his mind, each time seemed louder, scarier somehow. It was the first time he had said it aloud, and the word had tasted bitter on his tongue. He was so angry, so sad, so helpless. Taylor didn't deserve this, she was the last person that did; but here they were, she would have to fight this cancer again, while other people - some of the worst people - walked through life scot-free.

It seemed like only seconds had passed before Jax heard the thunderous roar of a Harley as Tig pulled into the drive, his headlight casting shadows over the living room. Before Jax could even push himself up from the couch the front door had swung open and Tig had stumbled inside. He could smell the tequila seeping out of his skin, and for a moment he felt bad that his brother had driven drunk, risking his life and his freedom, for him. But that was the kind of person Tig was. Despite their age difference, and the fact that he was Clay's right-hand man, he had always been there for Jax - for any of the brothers if they needed him. He was loyal, sometimes to a fault.

Tig collapsed in the leather chair that sat caddy-corner to the couch where Jax was resting. There was silence for a while, silent tears caressing Jax's eyes, Tig's face in his hand.

Tig broke the silence first. "What the fuck are we gonna do man? I'm starting to really love this girl. She's a great fit with this family. How did this happen?"

Jax, though he felt bad divulging her story to someone without her permission, desperately needed to confide in someone, for his own sake. He reiterated the entire story to Tig - her first diagnosis, her treatment, her divorce, and now this. He watched as a multitude of emotions flashed across his face, just as they had when Jax had first learned the details.

"What can we do to help?" Tig asked after Jax had finished talking.

Jax shrugged. "For the first time in my life, Tig, I'm really not sure."