It was two years ago that Jax Teller married Breyanna Jackson, the daughter of long time friend of SAMCRO, but their relationship was toxic and tumultuous. Jax couldn't keeping his dick in his pants and Breyanna had trouble putting down the needle...
warnings:language, mentions of drug use, minor character death
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When Breyanna woke the following morning, she was met with an empty bed. Sitting up, she took a quick survey of the room. Her and Jax's clothes were still where they left them, scattered across the room. The only thing missing was his sneakers and his kutte. Reality finally sank in. Last night was real. Donna Winston was murdered, and she and Jax fell into an old routine. Now Jax had left her behind.
This was something that Breyanna should have been used to by now, but she would never admit that it still hurt. She knew the club would always come first before anything and anyone. So, she figured that Jax was needed.
Wrapping the sheet around herself, covering her naked body, Breyanna went around the room collecting the clothing items that had been hazaphardly scattered. She then dumped the clothes into the dirty hamper inside the bathroom, reminding herself to do a load of laundry, before hopping into the shower and getting prepared for the desolate day.
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Dressed in a pair of curve hugging jeans and one of Jax's old SAMCRO tee's Breyanna, fresh from her shower, made her way into her son's nursery. She peered over his stark white crib, finding the small child's bright blue eyes staring back up at her. She just watched, as Abel happily kicked and flailed about in his bed. Not yet knowing how disgusting this world could be.
Breyanna was still in complete awe that she and Jax had made this beautiful, perfect little boy. And it quickly dawned on her that there was a moment when her addiction almost cost him his life. Sighing heavily, she pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, focusing on being grateful that he was alive. That he was healthy. Well, aside from the CHD. Another thing, along with his eyes and small tufts of blonde hair, that he received from his father.
Breyanna then reached into the crib, pulling Abel into her arms. "I'm gonna need you to at least get a little more color, little one. Make it look like you actually came out of me." She teased, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Again, Abel flailed about, causing her to let out a giggle. "Yeah, I know. You hungry? I know you are. Let's go get you something in your tummy."
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Breyanna had no idea what happened between her morning with Abel and now. Because the once happy, gurgly infant was now in a mood. For the last part of an hour, Abel had been screaming his head off, as if someone had been torturing him, and Breyanna had no idea what to do about it. She was in panic mode and of desperate need of some relief.
That relief came not a moment too soon, as Breyanna heard the sound of the front door open. She was currently back in Abel's nursery, softly bouncing the young tike in her arms, trying to soothe his incessant cries.
