Author Archives: Melissa

February 4, 2025

This entry is part 10 of 50 in the Dear Reader

Written in 65 minutes.

Never take advice from someone who’s falling apart

Michael leaned against the doorframe of his father’s office, then cleared his throat when Sonny didn’t look up from whatever he was writing.

“Michael.” Sonny dropped the pen, pushed his chair back slightly, then squinted. “Was I expecting you?”

“No.” Michael folded his arms. “I was at Bobbie’s having lunch with Amelia and I ran into a familiar face.”

Sonny’s mouth tightened and he looked away. “Your uncle.”

“No. My cousin.”

Sonny focused on him again, the corner of his eyes crinkling with confusion. “Cousin?”

“Jake. He told me a pretty interesting story.” Michael waited, hoping his father would launch into a defense or say something that would make Jake’s story less horrible. When Sonny just sighed, looked away, Michael knew it had likely been worse than Jake had described. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Dad. What in the hell were you thinking going to Elizabeth’s house like that? Spewing all of that crap where Jake could hear you?”

He came forward into the office, let his arms fall to his side. “Dad, tell me you have a good reason—“

“I had one when I went there,” Sonny muttered. He stroked his jaw. “Jason and I had a conversation this morning. I wasn’t happy with how it went, and I know who to blame for making him think he doesn’t have a right to his own kid. So I went to talk to Elizabeth to make her see sense, to find a way to get Jason to do the right thing—“

“Ah. You decided Jason didn’t know what what was best for him and tried to control his choices—“

“No! You’re not—“ Sonny scowled, threw up his hand. “Sure, you’ll take Jake’s side—“

“Jake’s side? Dad. You’ve lost the plot on this one. You really have. You’re just lucky Jason didn’t kick  your ass—“

“The day’s not over yet.”

Michael and Sonny both looked at the new voice, and Michael winced when he saw his uncle standing in the doorway, that familiar stone-faced expression and icy glint in his eyes. “Jase—“

“Not right now,” Jason said to Michael who closed his mouth because he wasn’t an idiot. He walked past Michael to the desk where Sonny slowly rose to his feet, his hands fisted at his side. “You and me? We’re done.”

“Don’t overreact—“ Sonny started from behind the desk. “I was trying to help—“

“I didn’t ask for your help and I don’t need it.” Jason didn’t move, and had never resembled a glacier more, Michael thought. Just a brittle pillar of rock hard, immovable ice. “Attacking Elizabeth is bad enough—“

“Is that what she said?” Sonny scoffed. “She never could handle the truth—“

“Dad, I’m gonna advise you to shut up,” Michael interrupted. “Jason—“

“Attacking Elizabeth is bad enough,” Jason repeated as if neither of them had spoken. “She’s an adult and can defend herself. But you should have shut your mouth the second those kids walked into the room and you know it.”

Sonny let out a slow exhale, then rubbed his temple. “Yeah, okay. Yeah, you’re right. I should have—“

“For decades I’ve put your family first. I’ve taken care of your kids. I would have given my life for them. I’ve sacrificed time with my sons for yours.” Jason looked at Michael. “I don’t regret it,” he told his nephew who only nodded. Because this wasn’t about any of that, and Michael knew it. Jason refocused on. “I did that because I thought we were family. But you never saw my children as part of yours. You did what you did today to hurt Elizabeth, and you didn’t give a damn about my son. You hurt Jake, and you hurt his brother. So we’re done now. That’s it.”

“Jason, come on—“ Sonny started after Jason but the younger man had already turned and left the office. His scowl deepened. “He doesn’t see that I was trying to help—“

“That’s what Mom always says, too, right after she’s destroyed something,” Michael offered and Sonny threw him a dirty look. “What do you want me to say, Dad? You’ve sunk to a new low this year. You and I both know what secrets I’m keeping—what you nearly let happen to Alexis—“ He looked away, troubled. “What I nearly let happen.”

“That has nothing to do with it—“

“Jason stepped up after it was done, didn’t he? Made sure it could never come back to you. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t second guess. He’s right. He’s always done everything you needed him. Everything I needed. Morgan, Kristina, Joss, hell, even Dante — he saved Dante’s life on that pier even though it blew his cover and he ended up with a bullet for his trouble. What have you done for Jake or Danny that’s even near any of that?”

“It’s not the same thing—“

Michael just looked at his father for a long moment, then shook his head. “You wouldn’t listen even if I tried to explain, so why bother? I learned a long time you only care about yourself. Good luck, Dad. You’ll need it.”

—

Elizabeth paced the length of her living room, back and forth, clutching her cell phone in her hand, willing it to ring. Wiling Jake to call her. Or to walk through the door. If she could just get him in the room, just explain—

There was a light knock at the door, and then Lucky was pushing the door open, stepping inside. “Hey. You, uh, you said it was an emergency. Everything okay?”

She made a face, then sighed. It wasn’t Lucky’s fault he wasn’t the person she wanted to see walking through her door. “I mean, we’re alive. But there was…a scene earlier. Sonny came over, and he just—I don’t know. He started this awful fight with me, and I can’t even begin to tell you how it unraveled. But Jake and Aiden walked in on it—“

“Oh man, do you want me to talk to Sonny? Smooth things over?” Lucky shoved his hands in his pocket. “We’re on good terms—“

“No.” Elizabeth blinked, bewildered by the offer. “No, I can handle Sonny. It’s what Jake and Aiden overheard. Sonny was telling Jake about…things that happened before he was born. The…” She hesitated. “What happened—“

“The lies,” Lucky said, and Elizabeth stopped again, pressing her lips together. “So Jake knows you lied to Jason and me about who his father was. What’s the big deal?”

Elizabeth opened her mouth, then closed it. “Jake—he was upset. Angry with me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m sure you never thought about it coming out, but I guess it was a matter of time.” Lucky slid his hand in his pocket, retrieved his phone. “So if you don’t want me to mediate with Sonny, what is it? Do you want me to talk to Jake or something?”

“No, I’m trying to explain to you that Aiden and Jake had so many questions. That they were trying to figure out the timeline, and of course, they know you and I were married, so that complicated things, and Jake got so upset, he stormed out and Jason went after him.” Elizabeth rubbed her chest. “Jason was trying to explain things to him, and he told Jake the reason I lied. About you—“

Lucky’s expression shifted from unconcerned to dread. He tensed. “About me? Shit. He told Jake about  the pills?”

“He didn’t get into the details, no. But I think he was just concerned with making sure Jake wasn’t blaming me—“ She broke off when Lucky snorted. “What?”

“No, why would Jason blame you? You only started the lie,” he bit out. “And made it everyone else’s fault. And Jason’s still carrying water for you. You guys like making it all my fault, don’t you—“

Elizabeth bit back the nasty words that nearly spilled out of her throat, forced herself to take a deep breath. “That’s not what I meant. I think Jason just wanted Jake to understand where my head was at back then, just to get Jake to calm down. We didn’t tell Aiden anything—“

“Good. Keep it that way. None of that is any of your business, and it’s ancient history. Aiden doesn’t need to have any of it dragged up. So great, consider me warned.” Lucky reached for the door.

“You know better, Lucky. The truth always come out.”

Lucky turned back to her, those blue eyes filled with familiar disdain. “The truth? What truth are we  talking about, Elizabeth? You lied to me for more than a year about the paternity of my son. You made me fall in love with him, and I mourned him when we thought he was dead. I brought him home to you—“

“I lied to you. I lied to Jason, and I hurt you both. That’s not news, Lucky. And you get to hold a grudge about it. But let’s not forget what you were doing that same year,” Elizabeth retorted. “Sleeping with a barely legal teenager, having her procure drugs for you, refusing to go to rehab until you thought you were having a biological son—I’m not an angel, Lucky, but you were hardly a blameless victim. So cut the crap. I don’t like the situation we’re in, but we’re in it. And you know better than anyone what happens when a boy has questions about his father.”

Lucky went still, his face losing color. “Are you comparing my drug addiction to what my father did to my mother? Have you lost your mind—“

“Oh, why do you always do this?” Elizabeth exploded. “You always make me out to be the absolute villain, when you know damn well I just meant that Aiden has questions now, and there are plenty of people in this town who don’t like you and remember what those days. He just has to tug at a string or two, and it unravels. Your affair with Sam was in our divorce papers, Lucky.”

“So was yours with Jason,” Lucky muttered, but he looked away. He dragged a hand down his face. “I hate this. You had no right—“

“I didn’t do anything, and you don’t get to be angry at Jason about how he handled this. You tried to set him up with a drug bust to make yourself feel better. He was trying to help his son understand a horrible, awful thing that his mother did, and I won’t apologize for Jason telling Jake the truth. You were a worthless, abusive drug addict who made me feel responsible for your sobriety and terrified what you would do if the truth came out. So if you want to blame anyone, look in the damned mirror, Lucky. You chose to take the drugs and sleep with Maxie in our bed. Now you have to lie in the mess you made.”

—

Molly trudged up the front walk of her mother’s house, tugging at the cuffs of her blazer, her eyes gritty from too many hours of reading paperwork that barely registered. Every day since Sam’s death, every day since the loss of Irene felt like a battle that refused to end.

A battle that Molly never quite manage to win.

She pushed open the door to her mother’s house, frowning when the living room was empty. She’d promised to come over tonight for dinner, so that she was sitting alone in her apartment while TJ put in another overnight shift.

Molly set her briefcase down by the door, hung up her jacket and nearly called out for her mother—but then she heard the stirring of voices. The kitchen, she realized, and started across the living room.

The voices were blurred, indistinct but became easier to understand as she grew closer. But she slowed her steps as the words themselves sank in.

“I know you’re making the right choice, Mom. Drew and Jason haven’t been the kind of fathers that Danny and Scout deserve,” Kristina said, that smug tone that made Molly see red every time she heard it. “And they’ll back down. They’ll have to.”

Molly crept closer to the kitchen door, hesitating to make herself known. She knew her mother was going for custody. She didn’t like it, but it was grief speaking. A desperate way to hold on to Sam, and Molly could understand that. It wouldn’t go anywhere, she thought. Danny was old enough to what he wanted, and the court would listen. And Drew was a Congressman! No court would ever take the kids away.

But there was something in Kristina’s voice that twisted at her, that dug deep in her belly. That brought that terrible rush of anger and grief of the day Molly had found those custody papers in her mother’s things. The realization that Kristina had planned to take Irene away from her, that she’d wanted to take Irene from TJ, too—

Molly touched her fingertips to the door, her breathing coming just a little faster. Alexis was talking now, responding to Kristina.

“I just hate the idea of dragging the kids into court. They’ve been through so much.”

“That’s the leverage, Mom. Drew and Jason won’t want to do that, and this is how we keep them together! It’s what Sam would have wanted—“

Molly pushed the door open and her mother and sister jolted, turning away from the counter with wide eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” she asked softly.

“Molly, I—“

“Forgot I was coming,” Molly said, and Alexis flushed, looked away. “That’s clear. You were too busy plotting to steal another man’s child. Again.” She looked at her sister, at Kristina’s arrogant lifted chin and cold eyes. “You’re making this a habit, aren’t you? Stealing your sister’s children?”

“You can’t steal what already belongs to you,” Kristina said. “Adela was my daughter—“

Alexis winced. “Kristina—“

“No.” Molly held up a hand. “No,” she repeated quietly. She fisted the hand, then let it fall to her side. “No. You won’t do this. I won’t let it happen.”

“Molly, wait—“ Alexis started forward.

But Molly was already gone.

—

Jason pushed open the door to his room above Bobbie’s feeling impossibly tired and worn, though it was barely four in the afternoon. He’d spent the majority of the day clashing with his son, with Sonny, and then that horrible conversation with Elizabeth where he’d admitted something he’d only suspected somewhere deep down.

For two long years, separated from his family who believed him dead, there had been a kind of peace. A terrible relief that he could just focus on the here and now and not think about anything else. Not about who he was hurting or the mistakes or the regrets. He’d hated those years, had missed his family and his home with an ache—

And yet—there had been those days. Those moments when he’d breathed with a sense of ease because it was clear to him. He had a mission, and he would achieve it. A certainty of purpose that he’d lost a long time ago. He’d had it after the accident, but lost it somewhere a long the way, in the guilt and obligations—

Jason looked at himself in the mirror over the sink, noting the changes in his appearance. His hair was grayer, lines in his skin from too much time in the sun and too little care for sunscreen. A permanent pinched expression around his mouth. He wasn’t the impulsive, angry kid he’d been after the accident that had reset his entire world. He wasn’t the sorrowful, weary victim who’d been lockedi inside a coma for a five years—

He didn’t know who he was anymore, and maybe that was what Elizabeth had seen that first day they’d seen each other again.

You look different.

He was different. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t take something away from those two years, something valuable.

A certainty of purpose. A conviction that he was doing what was right for him. So what did he want for himself? What did he want the rest of his life to look like?

A knock at his door drew his attention, and Jason left the bathroom, went to the door. He frowned when he pulled it open and found Molly Lansing-Davis on the other side. “Molly—“

“My mother wants to take your son away from you.” Molly took a deep breath. “You can’t use Diane for your custody. She’s in practice with my mother, and she’ll conflict out. So let me represent you.” Her bravado faded for just a moment. “I mean, if you’re planning to fight. I don’t know what you want. But you should get to do what you want. My mother and Kristina shouldn’t get to say what happens.”

He was a little confused by the inclusion of Kristina in that statement, but the rest of it was more important. What did he want?

“Come on in,” Jason said, stepping back. “Let’s talk about a retainer. Because, yeah, I’m planning to fight.”

February 3, 2025

Update Link: These Small Hours – Chapter 33 | Book 1 | Crimson Swift

Hello! We’re kicking February with a return to posting! I took off most of January (which was not the plan) but I’m determined to get back to normal here and not doom scroll my life away on social media.

I’ll be dropping preview chapters of These Small Hours, Book 2 this Monday and next before publishing the entire book on Tuesday, February 18. The book ended up being 27 chapters, and around 110k words. I’m really happy with the final product, and I hope it was worth the delay!  I’m already scheduling the chapters, and have pretty much turned the page on this project.

The site needs to be set up for Book 2 — I’ll be working on that this weekend. I had to reset my whole computer last week and not all my programs are reinstalled. The problem isn’t fixed either, so I might even have to do it again, ugh.

ANYWAY.

Flash Fiction returns tomorrow! We’re on Tuesday this week and next, but then probably moving to Mon or Wednesday the week of book release just so Hours gets its own day. I’m hoping to kick back up to two updates a week in March, but we’ll see.

I’m already hard at work on “The Black Dog” collection for the first Tortured Poets installment. It’s long overdue, but I’m excited to take a break between Books 2 & 3. I’ll let you know when I think that will be out.

See you tomorrow!

This entry is part 1 of 27 in the These Small Hours: Book 2

The sky glows
I see it shining when my eyes close
I hear your warnings but we both know
I’m gonna look at it again
Don’t wait, don’t wait
The road is now a sudden sea
And suddenly, you’re deep enough
To let your armor down
– Don’t Wait, Dashboard Confessional

Thursday, October 9, 2008

Nadine’s Apartment: Bedroom

Nadine retrieved the clothes she wanted from her dresser, then tried to close it as quietly as she’d opened it, glancing over her shoulder to see if any of her actions had disturbed Johnny.

But he was exactly as he’d been since she’d awakened two hours earlier — sprawled across one side of the double bed, laying on his stomach, still sleeping. Her nose twitched at that — she’d been awake at the first light and had already gone jogging, had a cup of coffee, showered and was now dressing for her shift that day — the last in her five-day rotation.

Nadine crept out of the bedroom, pulled the door closed, then changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt before looking through the fridge for something quick for breakfast. The first week of their marriage had gone relatively well, she thought — mostly because they only interacted for a few hours. She worked all day, and he slept through the morning. When she got home, it was usually some dinner, arguing over what to watch on television, and then going to bed.

And the bed part was still a terrible idea, Nadine thought, sliding the bagel slices in the toaster. Every time, she told herself that she really needed to be firmer in that whole let’s not complicate this thing—but it was nice, Nadine thought, to have company, and she could finally acknowledge that she’d been a little lonely since moving to Port Charles.

Eventually they’d start irritating each other — she’d be off for a few days, and they’d have to figure out what to do with themselves without work to break up the monotony.

But for right now, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to have someone to come home to, and she decided to enjoy it for as long it lasted.

Coffee House: Office

Jason scrawled his name at the bottom of a contract, then shoved it across the desk at Diane, his attention already moving to Cody, waiting somewhat impatiently.

“This should be the last of what the city needs to issue the permits,” Diane told him, sliding the paperwork into her bag. “But if it’s not—”

“I’m not having one more meeting,” Jason said with a scowl. “No more politicians, Diane. That’s the end of it—”

“You have made yourself entirely too clear,” Diane said, but Jason didn’t miss the roll of her eyes as she turned away. “Good luck with him, he’s in a rotten mood.”

“I’ll keep that in mind—” Cody walked her to the door, then looked back to Jason. “Are you really in a bad mood or did that stack of contracts put you in one?”

“The council keeps putting up roadblocks. Every time she comes here, it’s another problem—” Jason shook his head, tossed the pencil aside. “But I don’t have a lot of time,” he told his lieutenant, glancing at the clock. “So I hope you don’t have bad news.”

“I don’t, just an update from our guy at the PCPD which I confirmed with your friend in the DEA. Karpov has his hands full fighting the government — they did a civil forfeiture on the entire ship. I don’t like the guy, but that’s a hell of a thing to fight, especially as a foreign national with a shady past. He’ll be buried in paperwork until the end of time.”

“Good.” Jason shoved back from the desk. “And he won’t want to come at me with that heat on him. That’s not the only property I can tie up for a few years.”

“It’s not the solution I was expecting, but it did the job without any violence or damage that keeps the PCPD on our ass.” Cody rocked back on his heels, watched Jason pick his jacket up from the sofa. “We’re just about done the security upgrades on Mrs. Hardy’s house, so when she heads home, her place will be as secure as the Towers. We’re going to start on the Lexington Street house next.”

“Good.” Jason shrugged into his jacket. “Elizabeth’s still on concussion protocol for a few more weeks, so Mrs. Hardy is staying with us. But we’ll both feel better if her grandmother’s place is safe once she goes home.”

“Yeah, no problem. When she heads home, we’ll get a rotation of guys on her place. Any idea when that’s happening?” Cody followed Jason as he headed down the back hallway to reach the exit to the rear parking lot.

“I don’t know. That’s up to Elizabeth. Maybe through the holidays. Karpov hasn’t even been gone a week.” Jason hesitated at the door of the SUV, considering the question. Karpov wasn’t the only worry on his mind, although things had been quiet the last few days. Anthony Zacchara remained a threat. They hadn’t dealt with one another much before the Black and White Ball, but things were different now. Anthony’s hold on reality was tenuous, and Johnny’s marriage tied him to Port Charles for the long-term.

And Anthony was unpredictable in ways that couldn’t be measured.

“I don’t know,” Jason repeated finally. “But I want the house ready as soon as possible. Having somewhere safe that the boys are familiar with is preferable to a safehouse they’ve never seen.” He needed to make sure even those were outfitted for Cam and Jake if the worst happened. “Is that it, because—”

“Just Greystone.”

Jason’s hand gripped the edge of the door, grimacing. But when he turned back to Cody, his face was expressionless. “What about it?”

“Max has been keeping the place running — the housekeeper is live-in, there’s gardeners and a rotation of guards.”

“Right.” Jason exhaled slowly. Sonny didn’t live in a penthouse with occasional maid service. He’d bought an estate that rivaled the Quartermaines. “For right now, tell Max to keep everything like it is. If Francis can use the guards somewhere else, fine. I have to go.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s everything. See you tomorrow.”

Cody stepped back, watched Jason climb into the SUV, then back out of the parking lot. If anyone had told him a few weeks ago, he’d be trying to fit in meetings around Jason Morgan picking up and dropping a four-year-old at some school, Cody wouldn’t have believed him.

But every day for the last week, Jason broke off whatever he was doing, rain or shine, and trotted off to sit in a preschool pick up line. Cody snorted, then shook his head and headed back inside.

Morgan Penthouse: Hallway

“I could have done that,” Elizabeth complained, leaning against the door frame watching Audrey put laundry away in the dresser the boys were sharing. “I’m not on permanent bed rest, you know.”

“But you are still on concussion protocol, my darling, so—” Audrey lifted the empty basket, rested it against her hip. “Let me spoil you a little longer. Who knows how long I’ll be able to be as active as I am today?”

“That’s a low blow,” Elizabeth muttered, trailing after her grandmother down the stairs. “You’ll out last us all—”

At the foot of the stairs, Audrey turned to look at her with raised brows. “Are we quite done with our tantrum? My, it’s as if we’ve turned back the clock a decade or more and I’m asking you to make your bed. Is it really so awful to let me take on a few household chores while you recuperate? Wasn’t that the purpose of asking me to stay here?”

“Yes, but—” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, then sighed. “You’re right, you’re right. I’m being a giant baby. It’s just—I’m not used to this—”

“You should be.” Audrey set the empty basket on the floor, folded her arms. “You should be used to relying on someone to take care of you when you’re not feeling well. To pick up the slack. But you decided a long time ago that you couldn’t depend on anyone but yourself and I suppose asking you to break that habit in a week is unrealistic.”

Elizabeth remained on the landing, resting her hand on the low wall.  “It’s not a decision I made, Gram. It’s what was true. I couldn’t rely on anyone. Lucky died, and even when he was around, he was the one depending on me. You refused to let me grow up. Jason wouldn’t stay and let me make my own choices. Nikolas wouldn’t accept that I could choose my own friends. And Emily was always in the middle of her own crises. Let’s not get started with Ric or my family. I didn’t decide that I couldn’t ask for help. No one decides that. They get let down repeatedly until they learn to stop asking.”

Audrey pressed her lips together, looking away. “I suppose that’s fair—”

“And I am beyond grateful that you’ve come to stay here. That you love my boys the way you do. That you’re giving Jason another chance — no, that you’re giving him his first chance to show you who he really is. But give me a break, okay? It’s not easy to throw out a lifetime of experience overnight.”

“Yes, but—”

“Because you won’t be here forever, Gram. You’ll go back to your house and your life. And Jason can’t possibly pull double duty with drop off and pick up forever. That’s not how life works. You’re both overcompensating, and you know it. So stop acting like there’s something wrong with me because I don’t want to get used to something that won’t last.”

As she spoke, the door behind her opened and Cameron bounced in, Jason on his heels, one hand gripping the doorknob, the other holding Cameron’s discarded backpack. And the expression on his face told Elizabeth that he’d heard her.

Patrick’s Condo: Living Room

Patrick barely grunted when Robin set the pizza box in the middle of the table, his head bowed over a stack of paperwork that included the budget, reports from Risk Management, patient charts, and everything else he’d dragged out. No matter what he seemed to do, the to-do pile just seemed to keep growing and growing.

“I’m not hungry,” he said, then looked up again, frowning at the pizza box. “Again?”

“You were supposed to come home early and make pasta.” Robin dropped a slice of pizza on her plate, then lowered herself into the chair across from him. “But then there was an emergency, and well—” She rubbed her belly. “The baby wanted pizza.”

Patrick winced, then sat back, dropping his pen on the table. “I forgot. Damn it.”

“It’s okay. I like pizza. The house Maxie and I looked at today is two blocks from Mama Mangione’s. Oh, and across the street from Liz on Lexington.”

“Oh.” He furrowed his brow. “That’s the two-story colonial right? You liked that even before you went to see it.”

“Yeah, and, well, I forgive you for not coming home early if you forgive me for putting in an offer.” When Patrick just stared at her, Robin shrugged. “You told me you didn’t care. I can call the agent—”

“No. No. That’s fine—” He put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m leaving all the important stuff up to you, and—”

“Patrick.” When he looked up, she continued, “We can’t keep going on like this. Not because I can’t handle it. I can. I can buy a house without you. I can cook dinner—or dial—I can do these things, and it doesn’t bother me. But you are literally trying to be everything to everyone and it’s just not possible. You know that, don’t you?”

“I—” Patrick fiddled with his pen. “I should be able to do this. I watched Alan do both jobs like it didn’t even faze him—”

“After years of practice. He also wasn’t always the best at the job,” Robin told him. “You can’t measure yourself by Alan. What the hospital is facing right now — cleaning up after a nurse who killed her parents, the threat of losing our accreditation, it’s so much pressure, and instead of taking it seriously, the board just seems to keep cutting our feet from under us.”

He rubbed his cheek. “The nursing staff is a disaster. Even without the dispensary machines. We’re short-staffed, and the loss of the nursing program is crippling us. We’re not keeping up with research, so we can’t attract grants or medical staff. I don’t know how to fix any of this.”

“One step at a time,” Robin said. “First, you actually don’t have to read everything. You have an assistant. Let her be the gatekeeper and only the most important things end up on your desk. And the nursing situation—” She pressed her lips together. “I don’t know. It’s a bigger problem than just you. Let’s just focus on getting through the here and now. Let’s eat our pizza, talk about the house, and—”

She broke off at the sound of a knock on the door. Patrick held up a hand. “I got it. Knowing my luck, it’s more bad news.”

When he pulled open the door, it took him a minute to process who he found on the other side. “Anna?”

“What?” Robin pulled herself to her feet, and then squealed, barreling past Patrick, knocking him out of the way. “Mom!” She threw her arms around her mother, beaming.

Patrick rubbed his shoulder. “Hey, Anna. It’s good to see you.”

“You, too. And look at you—” Anna laid a hand on Robin’s belly. “There’s my precious little girl. Oh, she’s awake and kicking!”

“You’re not kidding,” Robin said with a roll of her eyes. “It really is so great to see you. Please tell me you can stay for a few days! I’m looking at houses this week, and it’d be great to have your opinion—”

Anna wrapped her arm around Robin’s shoulders and squeezed. “Well then, you’ll be happy to hear that I’ll be in Port Charles for the foreseeable future.”

Robin’s eyes lit up. “Really? You’ll be here when the baby is born?”

“I’ve missed so much of your life, my darling girl.” Anna hugged Robin again. “I couldn’t bear to miss another moment. As long as Patrick doesn’t mind me hanging around—” She looked at Patrick, her eyes raised expectantly.

Patrick furrowed his brow. “No, no. I mean, we don’t have a second room right now—”

“I’m staying with Mac, so don’t worry about anything. I’m just here to lend a hand and spend some time with my daughter.”

“This is the best news I could have gotten,” Robin told her. “You’re really here, and you’re not going anywhere?”

“No where else I’d rather be.”

Zacchara Estate: Terrace

Claudia leaned against the low stone terrace, a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She ignored the sound of the doors opening behind her, and the footsteps against the flag stones until Ric sidled up next to her.

“Those things will kill you,” he told her, sipping from a tumbler of bourbon.

“Someone who expects to live a long life might care—” She exhaled a long thin stream of smoke in his face and he grimaced. “But we both know reaching fifty isn’t normal in this world. Look at your brother.”

Ric pressed his lips together, then looked out over the view. “He could wake up.”

She snorted, took another drag. “Okay. I didn’t know we were exchanging fantasies. I could tell you one about tying you to my headboard—” When he just scowled at her, Claudia shrugged a shoulder. “Did you have a point in coming out here or did you just want to bother me?”

“Things have settled down,” Ric said. “It’s been almost two weeks since what happened to Kate. A week since Sonny.” He paused. “Since your brother got married and moved out. He hasn’t come back once.”

“No, he hasn’t. You wanna take bets how long my father puts up with that before taking action? I could put fifty—”

“I’m serious, Claudia. When your father gets anxious, he tends to make it everyone’s problem,” Ric cut in. “The last time he threatened to snatch one of Jason’s kids—”

“Hey, hey, give him some credit. He was just gonna take the bastard, not the actual heir to Daddy’s throne.”

“I don’t know why I bother with you,” Ric muttered. “You’re incapable of taking anything seriously—”

She released another stream of smoke in his face, smirked. “And you take everything too seriously, Ric. You’re so busy trying to be six steps in front of everyone that you can’t enjoy the here and now. Like you said, things are quiet. Jason made his deal with the devil, didn’t he? John put Sonny in a coma, but since Jason wants those rugrats to keep breathing, he’s not gonna do a damn thing about it.”

“What about your father? We don’t know what he’s planning—”

“What makes you so sure he’s planning anything?”

“Why arrange to have Kate shot if he wasn’t going to do anything about it?” Ric demanded. When Claudia looked away, he nodded. “Good. You’re not denying it—”

“Look, all I know is that my father didn’t pull the trigger, okay?” Claudia dropped the cigarette, ground it out with her heel. “He’s in a wheelchair, so the damage he can do is limited to the power he wields, and that goes through your father, not mine. So whatever Daddy wants to do, it usually has Trevor’s seal of approval.”

“Don’t remind me,” he muttered, then dragged a hand through his hair, disheveling the dark locks. “Your father doesn’t do anything in small measures. You know what he was planning to do if Johnny didn’t check in on Anthony’s arbitrary schedule.”

Claudia wrinkled her nose. “He was just going to take the kid for a few hours. You act like he was going to do something ruthless. If Daddy was serious, he’d have taken the little one. Or the nurse.”

“Are you kidding me? You’ve come into contact with Jason. You saw him after Michael went into that coma. What do you think would have happened if Anthony had kidnapped Cameron?”

She pressed her lips together, considering the question. “You have to understand. My father wouldn’t have seen it as a terrible thing. He doesn’t—he doesn’t value people the way others do. The older kid isn’t Jason’s biological kid. No blood involved.”

“That shouldn’t matter—”

“To Jason, no, and maybe a lot of people. But my father? He’d see it like grabbing a nephew or a cousin. A warning shot. Look at how close I can get to you.” Claudia set her wine on the ledge, dug out the pack of cigarettes from her pocket. “He wouldn’t have hurt the kid. Not the first time.”

“You can’t think that matters—”

She lit the cigarette, rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry, but didn’t you kidnap a pregnant woman and threaten to kill her and take her baby?” Claudia demanded. “You’re going to stand there in moral outrage over this? Are you serious—” Her brows lifted. “Oh. Oh, no it’s not morality you’re protesting. It’s who my father would have hurt. The nurse used to be your wife—”

“That has nothing to do with it—”

“Sure.” She smirked, took another drag. “You were around when she was pregnant—that’s when you got divorced, isn’t it? Did she cheat on you, Ricky?” Claudia stepped closer to him, her eyes dancing with glee. “Is that why it fell apart?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ric said finally, his tone tight and controlled. “I’m just cautioning you not to play around with Elizabeth’s children. Jason accepted Ian Devlin as Michael’s shooter because he needed it to be true. But you open that door again, you’re not going to like what’s on the other side.”

Claudia’s smile fell. “What does that mean?”

“Your secrets, Claudia, aren’t as safe as you think they are. So you had better hope that your father doesn’t do anything stupid and doom us all.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

They hadn’t spoken alone all evening — there hadn’t been a chance with Cameron full of news and excitement about a spelling contest he’d won. Then Jake had woken from his nap, and the afternoon had just gotten away from her —

But it weighed on Elizabeth that Jason might have heard what she’d said to her grandmother and internalized it as criticism. They’d come a long way since that night he’d nearly walked out on her, when they’d had that terrible fight. But that didn’t mean everything had been resolved. It had only been a week.

He still wasn’t talking a lot about Sonny — or going to see him — and she was still hesitant to believe that everything that had happened in the last few weeks would stick.

So she waited until dinner was over, until Spinelli had left to spend the night with Maxie, and they’d tucked the boys in. That was new, too, Elizabeth thought. Jason being there at night, keeping a boisterous Cameron from waking up Jake who went to sleep earlier. Jason sat in the living room while Cameron played, showing Jason every single item in their toy box, making up a new story to act out with his superhero figurines and assigning roles to Jason who did his best to play them out.

The first time they’d done this, Elizabeth had watched with fascination as tough, gruff Jason Morgan pretended to play the role of Deadpool and accepted every critique and suggestion from her four-year-old son. Cameron was patient with Jason, and seemed to almost pity the older man who had explained he didn’t remember playing as a kid because of his accident.

The second night, she’d reached for her sketch pad, and now by the fifth time she’d watched Jason make a much better impression of the comic book hero than she’d ever managed, she’d filled more than half of her pad. Her fingers itched for her watercolors, something that hadn’t happened in months. Maybe longer.

But too soon, the clock struck eight, and Cameron reluctantly cleaned up, piling the toys back in the box. Audrey remained downstairs to watch television, and Jason and Elizabeth headed up the stairs with Cameron to wash and get ready for bed.

At every step, Cameron tried his usual tricks. He was four and half now, he’d told them. The half was important, so he should be able to stay up a half hour later. And he needed to tell them something else that happened in school, and the funny thing he’d watched on television, and—

But soon enough, Cameron was tucked away in bed, falling asleep almost before Elizabeth had reached the second page of their Percy Jackson book. She set the book on the table between the bed and the crib, smoothed the blanket over him, then kissed his cheek.

She found Jason lingering in the hallway, just as he had every night for the last week, and the guilt washed over again.

“Hey, do you—” Elizabeth bit her lip. “Do you have to go out or anything—”

“No.” Jason seemed hesitant, too, and this wasn’t new either. When the boys were around, they seemed sure of themselves. She knew how to be a mother, and he was rediscovering fatherhood—

But being in a relationship? That was harder. She remembered Bobbie’s advice to her. They’d never really done the relationship thing, and now they’d jumped headfirst into living together, being a family — if she was feeling unsure about everything, maybe he felt the same.

“Then we have a little time for you and me.” She took his hand and tugged him gently — she didn’t have to try very hard. He followed her inside the bedroom and watched as she closed the door.

“If I ask how you’re feeling, am I going to be in trouble?” Jason asked.

Elizabeth looked at him, then tipped her head to the side and smiled. “No. I’m okay. Sore. A little tired. I’m definitely pushing too hard to get back to normal, and it does help that you and Gram are doing so much of the heavy lifting, even if I complain about it. I haven’t had a headache today, so that’s a good sign.”

“Good.” He exhaled on a short breath. “Good. Uh, was there something you wanted to talk about?”

“Yeah, but first—” She leaned up on her toes and kissed him, lightly at first, her hands resting at his collarbone. His hands came up, framing her face, careful to avoid the bruise still healing along her cheek bone. The embrace deepened, her hands sliding under his arms, wrapping around his shoulders.

“Can’t believe I get to share a bed with you every night and all I get to do is sleep,” she said, pulling back with a sigh.

Jason’s laugh spread over her, warming all of her like a hot chocolate. “It’s okay. I like waking up next to you.” He kissed the tip of her nose, then led her over to the large armchair by the window. He pulled her down with him, carefully to avoid the healing wound from her surgery. She leaned into his arms. “If you’re worried about earlier,” he said, his breath fluttering the hair at her temple, “it’s okay.”

“I was just—”

“Saying how you feel. It’s okay.”

“I saw your face.” Elizabeth sat up slightly so that their eyes met. “You didn’t look like it was okay.”

“I…” Jason faltered then tipped his head back. “Okay. Maybe in the moment. But you know, I’ve had a few hours to think. And you’re not wrong. I won’t be able to pick Cameron up every day. Or drop him off. There will be days when it’s you. Or maybe we can work something out with Carly. She’s tried to spend more time with Morgan since last spring. But right now, I can make it happen, and I like doing it.”

“Really? It’s usually the bane of my existence.”

“I like the extra time with Cameron,” Jason said, and she fell silent. “He talks like you do. Anything and everything that pops in his head. The way you used to,” he corrected softly. “When we first met. Before you started weighing every word and worrying if it would hurt someone.”

“You do that, too.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jason picked up her hand, traced a pattern in her palm. “I thought about what we talked about the other night. About how I’m waiting for you to go, and you’re waiting for me to let you. That’s not something we fix in a week.”

“No.” Pressure built behind her eyes and she closed them. “But I want to.”

“One day at a time. It’s all we can do. One moment.”

“Things happen fast,” she said. “But you have to live through them slow. You told me that once, a long time ago. Do you remember?”

“I remember everything,” he told her, and she smiled. She touched his lips with the tips of her fingers.

“We’re going to be okay, you and me. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

PCPD: Commissioner’s Office

Mac glanced up at the light knock on the door frame, then grinned. “Well, where did you come from?”

“A stork brought me,” Anna said, stepping inside. “What are you doing at work so late?” She closed the door.

“Too much paperwork,” Mac complained, rising from his desk, and coming around to embrace his former sister-in-law. “You’re here to see Robin?”

“Yes, I’ve just come from the condo. I told her I’d be using your guest room so she wouldn’t worry about me, I hope that’s all right.”

“Of course, of course. Any time. The house has been empty—” Mac’s expression faltered and he looked down, took a deep breath. “Anyway, plenty of room. How long are you staying?”

“Well, hopefully long enough to meet my granddaughter,” Anna said, “though that depends on you.”

“On me?”

“Yes. I’m hoping you’ll bring me up to date on everything you know about Jason Morgan and Andrei Karpov.”

January 28, 2025

I FINISHED A BOOK!

These Small Hours, Book 2 is FINALLY done. The posting draft has been completed, and I’ll be starting my final stage: proofreading and scheduling chapters. This is extremely good news, lol. So let’s talk about when the book goes live, and what’s next.

January – Early Access on Patreon

  • 28 – Stalker Tier
  • 29 – Obsessed Tier
  • 30 – Devoted Tier

February

  • 4 – Flash Fiction Returns & Preview Chapter 33 posted.
  • 11 – Preview Chapter 34 posted
  • 17 – Early Access for Fan Tier
  • 18 – Book goes live — Chapters 35-59 posted.

I’ll be taking a break between Book 2 and 3. I’ve been working on this project for a full year and need to refresh my brain. Flash Fiction returns Feb 4 on Tuesdays, and I’ll be writing “The Black Dog” story collection.

This week, I’m going to rest, recharge, get caught up on some household tasks, and prep for work.

See you next Tuesday!

January 18, 2025

Uh, hello 😛

Sorry about disappearing this week. Couple of things happened at once (as it always seems to do), and I just couldn’t do Flash Fiction.

I’ve been fending off tendonitis in both my elbows (thanks to having a second career as a writer and content creation as a teacher), but my right elbow just got really aggravated over the last few months and it just got too painful to spend a lot of time typing. Especially flash fiction which is sustained typing for an hour with no breaks. I took  a little time off from writing and content creation for work and well, my elbow feels better.

I have a doctor’s appointment for this on Monday, and hopefully we’ll get some treatment options that let me come back semi full-time to my previous activities. I’m going to take another week off from Flash Fiction because it really does seem to help, and any writing time should be editing.

Speaking of editing, obviously, this elbow issue has delayed These Small Hours by a few extra weeks. I’m nearly halfway through my final round of edits, and will hopefully be picking that back up this weekend with my day off on Monday.  As soon as I can put out a publication date, I will.

I also had a small cold that just took out the extra energy. Nothing bad enough to lay me out flat, just a lingering one that made it difficult to do anything after work but stare at walls.

We’ll hopefully be back to our normal situation in February. Until then, read some of the backlist and have a great week!

January 7, 2025

Update Link: Dear Reader – Part 9

soooo heeeeyyyyyyyyy

Sorry for totally disappearing on you for the last *checks notes* week. I’d like to tell you I was hunkering down and finishing the edit on Book 2, but it would be a lie. (I did edit and we’re making good progress but it’s not where I want to be just yet). I just, uh, didn’t want to write? Is that allowed? I don’t know, lol. I was just feeling blergh on inspiration and wanting to do anything, even prep for school. Probably just a little bit of burn out. I felt better by Monday and did an insane amount of school prep thanks to the snow day and our two-hour delay this morning.

I also got some encouraging health news. I had my annual bloodwork done, and it turns out I’ve got a Vitamin D deficiency which could (and hopefully does!) account for a few lingering issues — some extra muscle aches, some mental fog, extra fatigue — I started supplements last week and I hope to feel better soon.

I’m not committing to a second update this week just because I really do want to focus on editing Book 2 and getting that out this month.

 

This entry is part 9 of 50 in the Dear Reader

Shorter than I wanted it to be, but I really wanted to get the dialogue of this scene right.

Dear reader
When you aim at the devil, make sure you don’t miss

She didn’t turn around right away. One hand remained on the door knob, and the other resting against the door itself, her head dipped so that her gaze was on the carpet beneath their feet.

She didn’t turn around, Jason thought, but she didn’t open the door. She didn’t say a word. Deciding to take that as a positive, he stepped towards her. “I didn’t mean for you to be the last to know.” Had never even made that connection until right this minute — that one by one, he’d told every other important person in his life, and that somehow, she’d ended up at the end of the list —

“It’s because I didn’t ask.” Elizabeth took a deep breath, then slowly turned. Her eyes were still red, the skin slightly swollen from the tears caused by Sonny’s insanity and Jake’s anger. But her expression was unreadable to him now — that careful guarded look that she only rarely reached for. “I didn’t think you’d tell me. You never do.”

“I—” Jason stopped, stumped slightly by that response. “Yes.”

“I should know better after all these years, I guess.” Elizabeth folded her arms. “You typically respond to direct questions if you can. Or you tell me flat out you can’t say. I didn’t ask. So I guess I can’t complain that you didn’t tell me.”

He squinted, opened his mouth, then closed it again. Bewildered by the turn in the conversation. “I—”

“Let me guess. You told Sonny because you were accused of shooting Dante, and that you’d tried to kill him and he needed to believe that you hadn’t betrayed at him. And if I know Carly, she was probably in the room so that’s why she knows.”

“Yes—”

“And Sam—Sam didn’t want you to see Danny. So you told her so that maybe she’d change her mind.” Elizabeth folded her arms, tipped her head. “But I didn’t keep you from Jake. And I didn’t accuse you of anything horrible, so I didn’t ask and you didn’t have a reason to tell me.”

“That—I can’t tell you’re if you’re still mad at me,” Jason said finally. “Just tell me—”

Elizabeth exhaled, looked away, her brow furrowed as if she were internally debating the question. “No,” she said after a beat. Then she met his gaze. “Because I don’t need to be told you wouldn’t betray Sonny. And I wouldn’t use your job to keep you from your son. Not ever again. You didn’t have a reason to tell me. I wasn’t demanding answers from you. And the few times I tried to bring it up, you changed the subject. I let you do that,” she told him, “because I don’t want anything from you that I have to beg you for.”

He dragged a hand down his face, grimaced. “It sounds like you’re mad about something else now,” he muttered.

She smiled now, just a slight twitch of her lips. “Not mad. Just disappointed. After all these years, you still don’t trust me or anyone else very much. That’s not the right word—because I know it’s not about trust—”

“Then what is it about? Tell me and I’ll fix it—”

“It’s not something you fix, Jason. Because you were wrong not to tell me, but not because I’m Jake’s mother, or because we’ve been friends for so long. Because you need to tell someone. You went away for more than two years, and this time you knew. You were awake, and it was a conscious choice. You woke up every day and didn’t pick up a phone. You let everyone who loves you think you were dead. You made that choice not once, Jason, but more than six hundred times.”

Elizabeth tipped her head to the side. “And the one thing I do know about you is that you would never do that unless you thought you had to. So, no, I’m not angry that you were working for John Cates. Or that you were an informant. All of that — if you want to tell me more, I’ll listen. But I’m more interested in those choices you made.”

“There’s nothing interesting about that—”

“You’re wrong,” Elizabeth said gently, and so firmly that Jason just stared at her. “I thought you looked different when you came home. You agreed. Now I know why. The weight of all those days you lived without us, knowing that we grieved you, knowing that you would have to come home someday and face it — that weight doesn’t just go away because it’s over.”

His throat tightened, and he looked away, slid his hands back in his pockets. “I can’t change what I did.”

“No, you can’t.” She folded her arms again, and sighed. “It’s funny. I’m so angry at Sonny for the way he handled all of this, and I don’t intend to let him off the hook. But he’s got one thing right—”

“No, he doesn’t—”

“Yes, he does. You think you don’t have the right to fight for Danny in court. To stand up and demand your rights as a father. And you can blame me for it, and I could point fingers at Sonny or Carly, but at the end of the day, Jason, you’re the one who believes it.”

“Maybe all of that’s true,” Jason said slowly. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t have the answers. Just because Danny is my son, that doesn’t mean living with me is the best choice—”

“Why not? He thought you were dead, Jason! He had both his parents back for a handful of months, and just like that—” Elizabeth snapped her fingers, and Jason flinched. “His mother is dead, and his whole world is upside down again. You’re his father. You love him, I know you do. He needs you and he needs to remember he’s only fourteen years old! He’s not an adult. Jake is putting off school because he doesn’t trust you to put Danny first.”

“I’m trying to—” Jason dragged his hands through his hair. “I’m trying to—”

“No, you’re sitting back like you always do. Reacting. Waiting for someone else to make the first move. You always did that to me, Jason, and it drove me insane because it meant I had to do what I thought was right for you and I sucked at it. You’re the only one who knows what’s right for you.”

“It seems like you’re still doing it. Still trying to tell me what’s best for me—” He clenched his jaw, and could feel the vein at his temple throb.

“Yeah, and you used to hate that. So get mad and tell me to go to hell—” Elizabeth held up a hand, lifted her brows. “Oh, sorry, I wouldn’t want to tell you what to do. Old habits die hard, you know. Sonny was out of line, Jason, but he did it because he thinks you won’t. Carly stomps around in your life because she knows you won’t stop her. Sam and I make—” She closed her eyes. “We made decisions for the boys because we knew you wouldn’t.” She opened her eyes, met his gaze directly. “Stop worrying about everyone else, Jason. Stop trying to do the right thing. To please everyone. To be everything to everyone. Put yourself first.”

“How do you I know that’s not what I was doing for two years?” Jason demanded, irritated beyond measure that every word she said was the absolute, devastating truth. “Maybe I was doing what I wanted, and that’s why I feel guilty. Maybe it was a relief to be away from all of this, from the demands and expectations, and the regrets and the hurt, and the mistakes—maybe I have nothing to feel sorry for at all. Maybe I liked it because it was simple. I had a job, I did the job, and I went on to the next thing. Maybe—” He broke off, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Maybe I’m not the person I used to be, and everyone looking for me to be someone I’m not is what pisses me off.”

He stopped again, this time closing his mouth, mortified that any of those words had come from him, unsure how he could drag them back, shove them deep down where they belonged, in the dark. Just like him.

There was a long, terrifying moment of silence as they stared at each other, and then, for some reason, Elizabeth smiled. A true smile this time, one that reached her eyes. “Do you feel better?”

“I—” Jason paused. “What?”

“Do you feel better?” Elizabeth repeated.

“I—” He considered the question, because of course he didn’t feel better. How could he? He’d just spewed a bunch of a bullshit that wasn’t anything like what he really felt, except—

It was.

“I didn’t mean it—”

“Don’t walk it back.” Elizabeth came forward, closing the distance between. She reached for the edges of his jacket, tugging the sides straight. “Look at me.” She said nothing until he did as she asked, meeting her eyes again. “There’s no judgment here. Do you feel better?”

“Y-yes,” Jason finally admitted. “I’m sorry—”

“No, no. Don’t. Jason.” Her eyes softened. “Do you think I believe for a second you didn’t miss our son? That you didn’t worry about him or Danny or Michael or anyone here? Do you think for a second that I believe you were off living a happy life free of all the demands here?”

“No. No. I wasn’t—”

“I know.” She smoothed his jacket again, then let her hands fall back to her sides, took a step back. “But a piece of you was. And it’s okay. Your secret is safe with me.”

December 31, 2024

Update Link: Dear Reader – Part 8

I’m feeling a little sad, lol, because tomorrow I’m doing a 2024 Retrospective & 2025 Preview video for the channel (well, it’s in my schedule — will it get done? who knows!) and after that, the Recent Updates page gets archived. I relaunched it this year with a better organization, and it’s just honestly crazy to me how much I wrote this year.

I published Book 2 of Fool Me Twice and Book 1 of These Small Hours. I wrote the skeleton of the Hours trilogy which is going to let me publish two more novels within the first six months of next year. I also wrote three full-length Flash Fictions: Hits Different, Chain Reaction, and Warning Shots (each of which was more than 80K), an entire short story collection (Folklore), two novellas, and an episode tag.

In the first nine months.

I honestly find that kind of stunning. It’s hands down the best year since 2020, and it’s probably even better than that because of how much of the Flash I wrote and how regular I was with posting.

Anyway, none of that is possible without you guys reading. The supporters at Patreon who keep the light on and keep me funded so that I don’t need a second job in the summer and can write more or less full-time.

Thank you, and I’m looking forward to another great year!

This entry is part 8 of 50 in the Dear Reader

Written in 55 minutes. I meant to have a second scene but this first one just took time to get right, but I’m happy with how it came out.

Dear reader
The greatest of luxuries is your secrets

The moment Jake learned that his father was still alive was burned in his brain, doomed to repeat itself on a loop, to be etched forever as a symbol of the fucked up relationship he’d had with his father since the day he’d returned from Greece.

He’d been lounging on his bed, switching back and forth between Snapchat and Tiktok, plotting how to sneak out with friends that weekend, endlessly scrolling instead of rolling over and going to sleep. Then he’d gotten an alert, a 911 text from a friend whose father worked at the PCPD.

yo dude they put out a apb on ur dad thats hella weird aint he dead

Jake had jerked straight up, his blood running cold, reading the words over and over again. He’d wanted it to be a lie. He’d tried everything.

hes dead dickwad april fools is for kids im gonna kick ur ass when i see u

There was no such thing as silence, not truly. He’d sat in that room, not speaking, not moving, but he was suddenly aware of every single sound. The creak of the steps when his brother sprinted down them, the wind from his open window, the cars pulling to a stop at the traffic light a block away, the squeal of brakes from those who waited too long—

no cap dude look its all over news turn on tv

His friend had attached the screenshot of an article from the Port Charles Sun website — COP SHOT BY MOBSTER BACK FROM THE DEAD!

Below the headline he found his father. They’d used one of his many mugshots and Jake had stared at that image — it was from his arrest the year he’d died. When the PCPD thought he’d murdered Franco. Everyone thought it — Cameron, Aiden, everyone at school — even his mother, who was careful not to say and had always defended Jason, harbored doubts.

But Jake never had. His dad was a complicated guy who’d done some crimes, sure. But cold-blooded murder? Of Jake’s stepfather?  No fucking way. And Jake had been right. Jason had been exonerated, and the world had gone back to normal for a while.

Until the tunnels in Greece had stolen his father away for good this time. He’d died trying to help someone, his mother had said, fighting back tears. It was a devastating loss for them all, Jake knew. Jason was more than just his dad, he was Mom’s best friend, and always had been.

Jake stared at the image for a long moment, then went back to the messages.

its a mistake my dad is dead theyre wrong

idk theres a vid ill try to find out more maybe its good news its cool if he came back right don’t u want ur dad to be alive?

Desperately.

He’d never answered his friend, had tossed the phone aside, and gone for the television downstairs, only to find Aiden already glued to the screen, and by the time his mother had called from the hospital, Jake knew it was true.

His dad was alive. He was wanted for trying to kill Dante. But this time Jake couldn’t believe in his dad. How could he?

His dad had pretended to be dead for over two years. If he could do that — if he could fake his death and run away from all of them, then maybe Jake had never known him at all.

It didn’t matter that his father was exonerated of that, too. Or that he’d showed up looking older and more worn — more tired — but still looking like his dad. It didn’t matter that he said all the right things or that his mother very carefully tried to support Jake while defending Jason —

None of that mattered.

Because there’d been that moment, that awful moment, and Jake couldn’t turn it off. Couldn’t ignore it. He tried for his mother, he tried for his brother, he tried for himself, and he thought he’d managed it. His dad paid for school, went with him to the airport, and they’d talked a few times on the phone — but never for long. And nothing more than a check in.

Because Jake couldn’t stop remembering that night, sitting in his room, the horrible, awful feeling that his father had left them. Left him.

And it was that anger that had exploded today, that anger that fueled Jake as he drove away from his mother’s house, driving aimlessly after dropping Aiden off at his boyfriend’s.

When he found himself near Kelly’s, his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he’d skipped breakfast and lunch. Jake pulled into the parking lot, hoping he could duck in and out without running into anyone.

He scanned the inside of the diner from the courtyard, but he’d missed Michael sitting in the back corner with his daughter. His cousin lifted a hand in greeting, and Jake sighed, knowing he couldn’t walk away. He scanned his memory for the kid’s name — Amy or something — and headed back.

“This is a nice surprise.” Michael rose and hugged Jake lightly. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it was in a sad way, Jake thought, not a lying way. “We haven’t ordered yet, so you can join us.” He tilted his head. “Unless you’re in a hurry.”

To go back home? Not a chance. “Nah. This is a good. It’s, uh, nice to see you. I guess. Not—” He winced, dropped into the chair across from his cousin. “That’s not what I meant. I mean—”

“I get it. You’re home for a sad reason, so yeah, I’m glad we can catch up but I wish we couldn’t, you know?”

“Yeah.” Jake released his first easy breath. “Yeah, that’s it.” He picked up the menu, pretended to read it. “Um, how are you? The kids—” He peered over the menu to the toddler who beamed at him.

“Growing up way too fast,” Michael said, dumping a few more puffs on the kid’s little tray. “Amelia will be two in a few months. I don’t really know where the time’s gone, you know? Wiley just turned six.”

“Six,” Jake repeated. He rubbed his temple. “That did happen fast.”

Michael opened his mouth, but the waitress came over before he could say anything. When she’d left, taking their orders with her, he folded his arms on the table, leaned forward. “Are you okay? I mean, I know you’re probably worried about your brother, but I don’t know, you just look—” He wrinkled his nose. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

“Seems to be the theme today,” Jake muttered, then sighed when Michael lifted his brows. “I dunno. I’m still mad at my dad,” he admitted. “And…um, well, your dad came by my house today. I guess you should know that.”

“My dad? Why?” Michael asked suspiciously. “Not that he can’t, but he and your mom aren’t, like, super close.”

“No, clearly. They were arguing — or he was yelling at her—and it all just kind of—” Jake pressed his lips together. “Did you know that my mom lied to my dad about me? I mean, that he was my father?”

Michael’s mouth parted and his eyes widened. “Whoa—oh, man, is that what my dad said? That’s like ancient history. Why would he bring it up?”

Jake reached for a napkin, began to shred it into tiny pieces. “I dunno. Something about my mom being the reason my dad thinks he’s not a good father or some shit like that. I didn’t overhear a lot, because Dad showed up and he was really.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Michael dragged a hand down his cheek. “Oh, man,” he repeated. “I can’t even begin to think why Dad thought that was a good idea, but well, it’s not like he’s had a lot of common sense this year, and I wish like hell I could blame the way Ava screwed with his meds, but I can’t. Parents are exhausting, you know that?”

Jake snorted, feeling the first stirrings of amusement. “Yeah, they definitely are. But you probably win that contest.”

“Oh, definitely. Listen, we could get into the wildness that was that era because I do know some of it,” Michael admitted, “but I gotta tell you, as someone who once learned a whole lot of awful things about my childhood and what went down before I was born, it’s a slippery slope. Because your parents are humans who make giant mistakes, and it’s hard to go back to when they were just…you know, your parents.”

The waitress returned with their drinks, and Jake reached for his soda, considering Michael’s words. He swirled the straw in his glass. “I always knew Dad was complicated. I mean, even before he came home after the Cassadines took him and that coma thing — I had Drew—” He hesitated when he saw Michael’s mouth tighten, but it was gone so quickly he thought he imagined it. “But Drew was supposed to be Jason Morgan, right? So, like, you can’t grow up and not know. And he was always in and out of trouble. It’s just, like, that always seemed separate. Like that guy was—” Jake gestured. “Out there. And my dad was this other guy.”

“You separate them,” Michael said nodding in agreement. “Because you can’t really make it work in your head how they’re the same guy. I definitely get that, Jake.”

“But I always thought my dad—” Jake paused, took a deep breath. “I always knew he loved me. He was so careful, you know, when he came home. So super cool if I wanted to be around Drew. Just really let me get through how weird it was. But we did get through it.” His throat tightened. “We really got through it, and then he was just my dad, and I could, like, always call him. And my mom, she’s always been the best. I basically thought she was perfect. Even when I knew she wasn’t, she was my mom.”

“And now they both feel like strangers,” Michael said gently.

Jake couldn’t look up, his vision slightly blurred. “Yeah.”

“I’ve been where you are, Jake. It’s not easy. It’s the hardest thing I ever did—confronting who my parents were — and some of the things they did that affected me. It was impossible for a while, actually. I walked away from them both because I couldn’t find a way through my anger. I couldn’t stop being angry.”

“Yeah?” Jake lifted his head. “How’d you fix it?”

“I didn’t. It can’t be fixed. You can’t go back to who you were before. There’s no magic trick. But I can love my mother, I can be in a room with my father. I can be around my parents, and have them in my life. It took time, Jake. But the day is gonna come when you’ll wake up and realize that your parents still love you. That you still love them. And you’re not as angry anymore. At least not at them.”

Jake sighed. “Okay, but what if I just punch someone? Do you think that would help?”

Michael’s lips twitched and he leaned back. “Oh, yeah, that’s your dad talking. You’d feel better for a little while, but you’re an artist, Jake. It’s not worth it.”

“I hate that you’re right. It’s annoying.”

Michael grinned now, the humor reaching his eyes and lighting up his whole face. “Yeah, yeah, that’s what Joss says, too. Being the oldest is a heavy cross to bear, but somehow I manage it gracefully.

December 27, 2024

Update Link: Dear Reader – Part 7

Updating a bit early tonight because I wanna log off the computer for a change and take a break from social media. We finally got a preview from the GH writing team, and well — I’m not particularly thrilled. I’ve enjoyed GH more in the last eight months than in the last decade, and even more so since August but it looks like they’re going with Lucky and Elizabeth as a couple, and I’m just soooo completely over that pairing. The preview dropped and it’s all over my feed, so I wanna take a break, lol. I’m used to not having Liason — that’s why I write fanfiction — but I was realllly looking forward to enjoying Elizabeth’s stories with the OLTL pets gone. Still holding on to hope that they’ll change their minds but well, who knows.

Anyway — it’s been an annoying day for lots of reasons, and that didn’t help so writing early and then going to do something else tonight. See you on Monday!