Page 22 of Hash

“Our son?” I bite out. “Now he’s ours? Funny, because about eighteen months ago when I tried to tell you about him, you didn’t even have the decency to respond. You didn’t give a single fuck about me or him, Hash.”

“Aisling.” Hash’s voice sounds broken, making my heart ache. “You don’t know how sorry I am.”

I want to cry.

Every emotion I’ve felt over the past two years has bubbled up and is stuck in my throat.

This is all way too much.

“Why are you doing this?” I ask, my voice cracking.

“Because there hasn’t been a waking moment since I walked out of your life that I haven’t thought about you. I don’t have a lot of regrets in life, but leaving you is my biggest one.” Hash’s tone is heavy as he pauses. “If I could go back in time, I would do it in a heartbeat. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking for one shot to make it right.”

My chest feels like it does when my cat, Frigg, sits on me while I’m sleeping, slowly trying to smother me.

I can hear him breathing through the phone as I try to keep the anxiety attack at bay.

He’s offering me everything I ever wanted.

But…

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to forgive you. And I don’t know how you can make this right.” I finally admit in a whisper, tears clogging it.

“I don’t know either, baby doll,” Hash says, sounding as exhausted as I feel. “All I’m asking is that you give me a chance to try.”

“You’ve had so long to reach out and you never did.”

“I know,” Hash responds after a long moment.

I’m mad.

I’m so fucking mad.

I don’t understand why he did what he did and why now he feels the need to make it right. At this point, there isn’t anything he can say to me to make me understand.

But… there’s a huge gaping hole in my heart from the piece he took with him when he walked out of my life.

Maybe Frankie is right.

If I have one last conversation with him, it might give me the closure I need to move on. I owe it to myself and to Cormac.

I know Frankie would watch Cormac if I asked, especially if it’s to do this.

“When did you want to talk?” I ask, my heart pounding from anxiety as I wait for his response. I hate that part of me expects him to blow me off because it feels like I’m calling his bluff.

“Whenever. You tell me the time and place, and I’m there,” Hash rushes out.

“Well, I don’t know when you have something to do with the club.” I’m testing him to see how serious he is.

I never wanted to come before the club and his brothers. I just wanted to matter enough to be involved in his life. I didn’t get that. Not even close.

“If I’ve got something going on, I’ll move it around. Don’t worry about the club. Just tell me when and where you want to talk, baby doll.”

“Can you come over tomorrow night? I don’t want to do this in a public place.” As much as I don’t want to do this at my house, my safe place, I hate causing a scene in public.

And if there’s one thing Hash is good at, it’s getting a reaction out of me. It can be horny, happy, content, mad enough to kill him, you name it. He can do it. It’s why I always felt he was meant to be mine.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s perfect, baby doll. I’ll bring over dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Hash hangs up before I can tell him this isn’t a date and bringing dinner isn’t necessary.