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theesirenteller · 2 months ago

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Little Miss Dairy Queen.

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ; ᴄʀᴏssɪɴɢ ᴘᴀᴛʜs !

M ♡ A ♡ S ♡ T ♡ E ♡ R ♡ L ♡ I ♡ S ♡ T

SYNOPSIS {Bluebell and Jax were inseparable—sneaking around, deeply in love, and always craving each other's touch. Their passion led to a secret marriage and a move to La Jolla, far from the chaos of Charming. But their happiness was shattered when Gemma, fueled by jealousy, discovered their marriage and viciously attacked Bluebell, causing her to miscarry. While Bluebell lay in a coma, Jax made the heartbreaking decision to leave.Seven months later, after being released from jail and dealing with Opie’s death, Jax returned for one night of passion, but left again before morning.Now, two years later, with Jax as SAMCRO president and married to Tara, fate brings him and Bluebell face-to-face once more. Is this their second chance, or will the years apart keep them from the love they once shared?}

The dusty La Jolla café was busier than usual, with the buzz of conversation and the hiss of an espresso machine filling the air. Bluebell stepped out of her beat-up sedan, brushing her hands over her denim overalls. The morning sun warmed her brown skin, but the sharp November breeze reminded her that winter was creeping in. She adjusted her thrifted cowboy hat, squinting against the sunlight as she slung her woven tote bag over her shoulder.

The bell above the café door jingled as she pushed it open, her boots clicking against the polished wood floor. Her thick Southern drawl, sharp and twangy like a fiddle on a Saturday night, carried over the din as she greeted the barista. “Mornin’, darlin’. Y’all still got that caramel pecan latte on the menu, or y’all done changed it up again?”

The barista smiled, clearly charmed. “Still got it, ma’am. You want it hot or iced?”

“Oh, hot for sure. Ain’t no sense in drinkin’ iced coffee when it’s colder than a well-digger’s ass outside,” Bluebell said, digging through her bag for her wallet.

A few people nearby chuckled at her colorful expression, and she tipped her hat in their direction, her smile polite but distant. She wasn’t in the mood for small talk. The last two years had made her cautious, keeping most people at arm’s length. The walls she’d built around herself weren’t just for protection—they were for survival.

She took her latte to a table near the window, her eyes drifting to the beach just beyond the parking lot. La Jolla wasn’t Charming, and that was the point. No SAMCRO. No Gemma. No Jax. She sipped her drink slowly, savoring the sweet warmth as it melted the tension in her chest.

“Bluebell? Is that you?”

The voice made her jump, and she turned to see a tall, curvy woman with dark hair and sharp eyes approaching her table. China, one of the old SAMCRO girlfriends, stood there in tight jeans and a leather jacket, her presence as commanding as ever.

“Lord have mercy,” Bluebell muttered under her breath, setting her cup down. “China? What the hell you doin’ all the way out here?”

China smirked, crossing her arms as she took a seat across from Bluebell without waiting for an invitation. “Could ask you the same thing, country girl. Ain’t nobody seen or heard from you since… well, since everything went down.”

Bluebell’s lips tightened, and she leaned back in her chair, her arms folding protectively over her chest. “Ain’t much to talk about. Needed a fresh start, so I packed up and left. End of story.”

China raised a perfectly sculpted brow. “Fresh start, huh? From what I heard, you had plenty of reasons to leave, but fresh starts don’t come easy. Especially not for someone with your history.”

Bluebell’s jaw clenched. “Look, I didn’t come here to rehash old business. What’s done is done.”

China leaned forward, her voice softening just a touch. “You know it don’t work like that, Bluebell. You can run, but you can’t outrun who you are—or the people tied to you.”

The words stung, but Bluebell kept her face neutral. “I ain’t runnin’. Just livin’ my life the best way I know how. And that don’t include gettin’ tangled up in SAMCRO drama no more.”

China studied her for a moment, then leaned back with a knowing smile. “Fair enough. But you might wanna watch your back, sugar. The past has a funny way of sneakin’ up on you when you least expect it.”

Bluebell’s stomach churned, but she refused to let it show. She tipped her hat toward China, her voice as steady as the Appalachian hills she’d grown up in. “Thanks for the advice. But I reckon I’ll take my chances.”

China stood, her smirk widening. “Suit yourself. But you and I both know this story ain’t over.”

Bluebell watched her saunter out of the café, her mind racing. She gripped her latte a little tighter, the heat burning her palms as if to keep her grounded. She’d left Charming behind for a reason, but seeing China stirred up a feeling she couldn’t shake.

The past wasn’t just a memory—it was a shadow. And shadows always found a way to follow.

The café door swung shut, the bell tinkling faintly behind China as she disappeared into the sunlight. Bluebell sat frozen for a moment, her fingers gripping the warm latte like it was the only thing anchoring her to reality. Her mind churned with the memory of China’s smirk, her words dripping with unspoken truths.

Her gaze drifted to the window, where two identical little boys played in the backseat of her car, their giggles muffled by the glass. Witt and Wyatt were the reason she’d kept moving forward, the reason she’d rebuilt her life from the ashes of her marriage.

Bluebell smiled faintly as she watched them. Witt, the quieter of the two, was flipping through the pages of a tattered picture book, his brow furrowed in concentration. Wyatt, on the other hand, was a ball of energy, making exaggerated faces at his brother to try to get a laugh. Their sandy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes were all Jax, a daily reminder of the man she’d loved and lost. The boys both shared her tanned coily curly texture, plump lips, rounded nose and caught their sunny tanned skin from her as well.

Her heart ached at the thought, but she quickly pushed it aside. Witt and Wyatt didn’t need her tears—they needed her strength.

Gathering her things, Bluebell left the café and slid into the driver’s seat. As soon as she opened the door, Wyatt’s voice filled the car. “Mama! Witt said we’re gonna see sharks, but I told him we can’t, ’cause sharks live in the ocean, not at the park!”

Witt sighed, ever the little old man in a child’s body. “I didn’t say that, Wyatt. I said they got a shark tank at the aquarium. That’s different.”

Bluebell chuckled, her thick country accent softening the edges of her words. “Boys, y’all keep arguin’, and we ain’t goin’ nowhere but straight home. Ain’t nobody got time for all that fussin’.”

Both boys quieted immediately, though Wyatt crossed his arms with an exaggerated pout that made her grin.

As she drove toward the aquarium, her thoughts drifted back to China’s words. You and I both know this story ain’t over. The past wasn’t something Bluebell wanted to revisit, but it wasn’t just about her anymore.

Witt and Wyatt were growing up fast. They deserved to know their roots, even if those roots were tangled and messy. For years, she’d kept the truth about Jax from them, convinced they were better off without the weight of his world. But as much as she wanted to protect them, she couldn’t shield them forever.

The boys needed answers. And deep down, so did she.

The thought of returning to Charming made her stomach twist. But if she didn’t go back, the questions would keep piling up. Questions about their father. About what kind of legacy Witt and Wyatt would inherit.

As the boys chattered in the backseat, her grip tightened on the steering wheel. Maybe it was time to stop running. Maybe it was time to face the past head-on—for her boys, if not for herself.

The sign for the aquarium came into view, and Bluebell forced herself to smile. “Alright, y’all, we’re here. Y’all ready to see them sharks?”

“Yeah!” the boys shouted in unison, their excitement filling the car.

But as Bluebell parked and led her boys toward the entrance, the weight of her decision hung heavy in her chest. She didn’t know what would happen when she returned to Charming, but one thing was certain: she couldn’t keep running from her shadow.

Bluebell felt the weight of the bar’s dim lighting press against her as she stepped further inside. The air was thick with smoke and the chatter of men in leather jackets, some of them glancing her way, but none with the familiarity of what she used to know. She could feel the pulse of the place in her bones, but it wasn’t home. No, it hadn’t been home in years.

Her boys were in tow, eager and innocent, oblivious to the ghosts of their mother’s past that still haunted every corner of places like this. Witt and Wyatt had begged her to come, not really understanding what they were walking into, just excited to see the bikes and the flashing lights. And Bluebell couldn’t deny them a moment of fun. Not when they still had so little.

“Look, Mama! Big bikes!” Wyatt’s voice rang out with excitement as they passed a row of gleaming motorcycles parked against the wall. His finger pointed at the sleek black machine, the chrome shining under the low lights.

Witt, the quieter twin, eyed the bike warily before his voice cut through the buzz of the crowd. “What’s that bike doin’ here?” He was squinting, as if trying to figure out how it fit into a world he didn’t understand.

Bluebell followed his gaze, her heart stuttering when she saw him.

Jax.

Standing by his bike, his back to her, talking to a few of the guys in the club. The sight of him, in his familiar leather cut, made everything feel like it was spinning too fast. He hadn’t seen her yet, but she could feel the tension in her chest, like he was pulling at the threads of a life she’d spent so long trying to forget.

But before she could turn away, Wyatt—oblivious as always—bounded ahead, eager to get a closer look at the bikes. Witt followed more cautiously, tugging at Bluebell’s sleeve. “Mama... what’s wrong with that one?”

She glanced down at him, unsure how to answer. But Witt was already pointing at Jax’s bike, his voice raised in his usual blunt way, cutting through the noise of the bar.

“That bike’s all loud and shiny... why’s it gotta be like that? Ain’t nobody gonna ride that, are they?” Witt’s tone was matter-of-fact, like a child confused by something he couldn’t quite explain.

Bluebell’s chest tightened, a knot twisting in her stomach. She knew what he meant. Jax’s bike wasn’t just loud—it was a symbol, a reminder of everything she’d walked away from. Of the man who once stood beside her, now a shadow in the corner of her mind.

“Witt, honey shh,” Bluebell murmured, her hand hovering over her son’s shoulder, urging him to quiet down. “Don’t be rude. That bike’s just... a fancy one. Some folks like 'em like that.”

But Witt, ever the curious soul, wasn’t finished. He crossed his arms over his chest, scrunching up his nose in confusion. “Looks like it’s gotta be mean if it’s all shiny like that. Too much... too much for a kid like me.” He kicked at the ground, unimpressed by the glamour of the bike.

Bluebell’s lips tightened. It was hard to explain to her innocent children that some things didn’t have simple answers. Not when those things were tangled in love, pain, and the years she’d spent away from this world.

Her heart stuttered again as Jax’s figure loomed larger in her peripheral vision. He hadn’t turned around yet, but she could feel the inevitability of this moment drawing closer. Bluebell had been trying to shield her boys from the past, from their father’s legacy, but it felt like the past was making its way back to them on two wheels.

“Mama, do you think we could ride that one? Or is it too loud?” Wyatt piped up, pointing to a nearby bike that was less imposing but still impressive.

“Maybe later,” Bluebell answered, her voice steady but her insides shaking. “Come on, let’s go get some lemonade first. It’s too noisy around here.”

As they turned away, Witt threw one last glance over his shoulder, still eyeing Jax’s bike like it was some kind of mystery he couldn’t solve. “That bike’s got too much power. Why’s it gotta be like that?” he muttered to no one in particular.

Bluebell could only shake her head, not sure how to explain a world her boys would never fully understand. Not yet, anyway.

But as she walked them toward the back of the room, where a quieter corner offered them some space, she couldn’t escape the feeling that her past wasn’t done with her. Not by a long shot. And as the sound of Jax’s voice rang out just behind her, she realized that their paths had crossed again, whether she was ready or not.

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