32. Jessica
Chapter thirty-two
Jessica
I sit in the darkened living room, legs tucked up under me on the couch, waiting for Eric to get home. Tonight, the whole team must still be on a high from the win, but I know what’s really weighing on him. Not even the excitement of pulling off such a huge victory could erase the pain of that article. I can still picture the headline, the smug tone that suggests that Eric was just some tragic figure, a product of his mom’s “failures.”
At last, I hear his key in the lock, and then he’s there, his silhouette framed in the door, tired but still powerful, magnetic. Before I know it, he’s crossed the room, his arms wrapping around me as I melt into his embrace. His hold is strong, and I breathe in his familiar scent, feeling the tension in his muscles. He holds me like he’s anchoring himself, like the world’s chaos can’t touch us here.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you back,” he whispers, brushing his lips against my hair. “I needed to… keep my head in the game. But I talked to my mom before it started. She calmed me down, helped me focus.”
I pull back slightly to look up at him, running a hand down his arm. “Of course. I understand, Eric. You did exactly what you needed to do. And tonight you played so well.”
A hint of a smile softens his tired expression. “Yeah? It felt like more than just a game. I felt like I was playing for her, you know? For everything she’s overcome.”
“I know. And I’m so proud of you, Eric,” I whisper, reaching up to brush my fingers over his jaw.
Just then, my phone buzzes on the table, lighting up with my dad’s name, and I glance up at Eric. “It’s my dad. Want to join?”
He nods, looking at me, surprised. He releases me only enough to let me grab the phone. “Sure. I wonder if he has a thing or two to say about the article.”
I answer, setting the phone between us so we’re both in the frame. “Hi, Dad.”
“Jessica.” His familiar voice fills the room, and I can’t help but feel a bit of the child I was, seeing his name light up the screen and knowing that he agrees to help Eric and me. There’s a difference in him. I can see it in his face. It’s like he has let go of some burden of his own. I want to know what it is, but I don’t want to risk losing this side of him.
I can see my dad’s expression grow serious as he leans back on his end, his LA office in the background. “Now, about this article. I assume Eric has seen it?”
I nod, and Eric’s jaw tightens as he says, “Yeah, we have. It wasn’t just a story—it was like… an invasion. They used my mom’s struggles like a cheap twist to make it more dramatic.”
“I know,” my dad agrees. “And the way they obtained this information—unethical at best, likely illegal. Posing as someone struggling with addiction to access private information is enough to bring a lawsuit. But there might be another way to handle this that’ll give your mom control of her story and her voice back.”
Eric raises an eyebrow, glancing at me as if to say, What does he have in mind?
Dad continues, leaning closer to the camera. “What if we make the story ours? Eric, if your mom is willing, she could tell her story herself, in a way that could inspire people. I have some connections in entertainment—people who could make this a positive, empowering narrative. A documentary, or even a series, on recovery and resilience, hosted by your mom. It’s her story, her victory. I’m betting people would respond to her journey more than anything this journalist could’ve written.”
A flicker of intrigue sparks in Eric’s eyes. “So… instead of hiding from this, or denying anything, we use it to inspire people?”
My dad nods, his expression all confidence. “Exactly. It’s a story of recovery, of hope. Rehab facilities do incredible work every day; your mom’s journey could showcase that, inspire countless others. I can make some calls to get it moving—reach out to some producers who’d see the value in this.”
A strange look of relief crosses Eric’s face. He glances at me, his hand tightening around mine, his fingers laced between mine like a promise. “My mom… I’m definitely sure she’d want to help others beyond her work at the rehab center. Maybe this could be a way for her to do that, to… bring something good out of everything.”
“She could be a light of hope for so many who are lost and struggling, Eric,” I say softly, the idea suddenly lighting up my mind. “People would see her courage and strength. It could shift the focus entirely.”
Eric nods, his expression resolute. “Yeah, I think she’d like that. I’ll talk to her.”
My dad chuckles. “Good. I’ll start on my end, too.”
A silence falls for a moment, and then my dad clears his throat, his expression softening to that old look he used to wear, the look that was just… well, my dad. The man who loved my mom and was broken after her death. I haven’t seen that look in years. “Oh, and Jessica… about the other thing we discussed—my fiancée, or rather… former fiancée.”
Eric glances at me, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.
“Yes, Dad?”
“Well, you were right. I took some time to think it over, and I realized I was, well, looking for a distraction. Someone like your mom, with her strength and values, that’s what I need in my life, not someone chasing money and glamor. You helped me see that. I won’t make that mistake again.”
My throat tightens with unexpected emotion, a warmth spreading through me as I smile. “Dad, I’m so glad. I want you to be happy, but more than that, I want you to be with someone who understands you, who values you.”
He nods, a soft, nostalgic smile on his face. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone. Just wanted to let you know. And Eric, I’ll reach out soon about your mom’s show. You’ve got my support, both of you.”
We say our goodbyes, and as I set the phone down, I turn to Eric, who’s watching me with a soft expression.
“You helped him with that?” he asks, his voice laced with admiration.
I shrug, a little self-conscious. “I was angry at the time, but yes, I was also honest. Honestly, I really do want him to be with someone who loves him for the right reasons. Someone who’d appreciate him. Be there for him.”
Eric’s eyes soften, and he pulls me closer, his hand on the back of my neck, his forehead resting against mine. “Just like you’ve done for me.”
Our eyes meet, and in the silence that follows, everything else melts away—the game, the article, the endless complications. All that matters is here, now, with him. His hands pull me to him, and I lose myself in the warmth of his kiss, his lips soft and sure as they meet mine.
“I don’t know how I’d have gotten through today without you,” he murmurs, his voice raw with honesty.
“You don’t have to,” I whisper back, meaning every word. “You never have to go through anything alone.”
He cups my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek, and I shiver as his mouth finds mine again, igniting every cell in my body. His hands slip around my waist, and I feel myself sinking into him, our breaths mingling as he pulls me into his arms, our connection deepening, turning unspoken promises into something more tangible, more real.
Tonight, every worry, every fear, every ache from the past vanishes as we find solace in each other, in a connection that more and more feels like it’s wearing the wrong label. Maybe it’s time to finally remove the “fake” from our fake relationship.