Chapter Thirty-Five
ALLEY
THEN
My eyes flick to Jensen in the back of the cab. I feel awful. I said some really hurtful things back at home. But he’s here. He’s with me. And he seems—happy. Which is rare these days.
He did run into his office before we left. I know what’s in there. I know what he went in there to do. He locked the door so he could get high.
That’s what he does now. It’s not just about pain anymore. He’s chasing something. A feeling. His new normal. He takes something every day. How much or how often? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that he’s using.
Using. Something a drug addict does. And that’s what he is. An addict.
Just like my father.
Alcoholic, addict—they’re all the same. They lie, they manipulate, they cheat the system of life. Jensen taking something to get through tonight? Cheating.
How did the one thing I feared the most become my reality? How could he do this to me after everything I went through with my dad?
After his second attempt at detoxing, I really thought he’d done it. I thought he kicked it. But he didn’t. Two weeks later, he was sick again. Trying again. And the week after that.
He hasn’t tried since, not that I’m aware of anyway. I’m not even sure he ever made it past two days. And I’ll never know because I can’t trust him anymore. He’s always lying, stretching the truth, disappearing, locking himself in his office.
I sigh and turn my head, staring out the window as cars blur past.
That kiss in the closet? It was good. God, it was good. My fingers drift to my lips, brushing over them. It felt like he was almost there—almost.
Jensen’s hand falls to my thigh, pulling me out of my thoughts. He gives it a light squeeze. “What’s this guy’s name again?”
“Mark,” I say quietly, still watching the cars pass by.
“And where did Scarlett meet him?”
“Bumble.”
“What does he do?”
I turn, my gaze landing on Jensen. He’s… trying, and I appreciate the effort. I muster a small smile. “I don’t know. She told me, but I can’t remember.”
He chuckles—an actual laugh, and the sound wraps around me like a hug. I don’t even remember the last time I heard that sound from him.
“Don’t worry, babe. I got you. I’ll make sure to ask. She’ll never know you forgot.” He gives my thigh another squeeze, and it’s… weird. Like he’s already forgotten I stormed out and yelled at him to open the door.
But it’s also nice because it feels—normal.
I place my hand on top of his, welcoming the touch as our fingers weave together.
He leans in, pressing a kiss to my temple. “I love you,” he murmurs.
A lump rises in my throat, but I swallow it down. “I love you too,” I whisper.
Because I do. God. I do. I love him so much.
Mark seems great. No red flags so far, and Scarlett looks happier than ever. He does something with insurance—I didn’t catch the details. I stopped listening halfway through. I’m distracted.
I can’t figure Jensen out tonight. He’s been super attentive, talkative, happy, touchy. His personality is back, charming and fun—more like himself, but… not.
He hasn’t stopped talking, bouncing from one topic to the next. It’s like ADHD on steroids.
I watch him while he and Mark chat, slipping into my own world, trying to decode him. His jaw keeps flexing when he talks. I can’t tell if he’s anxious or angry, but the way he’s half-talking through clenched teeth… it’s disturbing.
He’s also talking a mile a minute. His energy feels like it’s vibrating off him. Like he’s about to explode.
Scarlett and Mark haven’t seemed to notice, thank God.
Our entrées finally arrive, and the server sets them in front of us.
“Oh my God, this looks so good,” Scarlett says, eyeing her salmon.
“It looks so good,” I echo, cutting into my steak. Jensen and I both got the ribeye. Mine’s cooked to perfection.
Jensen cuts into his steak. “Dammit,” he mutters. He drags a hand down his face, groaning under his breath. “These idiots overcooked my steak.” He drops his silverware with a sharp clink. “I can’t fucking eat this.”
I freeze, completely mortified. This is so not Jensen.
Mark and Scarlett are deep in conversation, thankfully. Either they didn’t hear or they’re politely pretending not to.
I glance at his plate. It is overcooked—and yes, that’s annoying—but God, what is his deal?
His leg starts bouncing, his whole demeanor shifting like a switch just flipped.
“Here,” I say, picking up my plate. “Trade me. I don’t mind medium-well.”
“No, babe. This steak’s a hundred fucking dollars. They need to make it right.”
“Please. Just take mine.” I try to lock eyes with him, but he won’t look at me. Sweat’s collecting on his forehead, and he rubs his hand over his face again.
“Please,” I say again, quieter this time. Don’t make a scene.
He grips the back of his neck, then exhales hard, dropping his hands into his lap. “Fine.” He slides his plate in front of me while I pass mine over, painfully aware of Scarlett and Mark witnessing the unraveling of my husband.
“Everything okay?” Scarlett asks.
I force a smile. “Yeah. They overcooked Jensen’s steak, and I like mine more done… You know what, babe? They probably just mixed ours up.” I say, even though I know damn well we both ordered medium-rare.
Jensen stands abruptly. “I’m gonna take five. Gotta pee.” He rubs a hand over his face as he leaves, and I watch in horror as he disappears toward the bathroom.
“Is he okay?” Scarlett asks, then lowers her voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry. He just had a really stressful work week.”
“I thought Jensen loved his job.”
“He does, but he has a new boss, and he’s kind of a dick. It’s been a rough transition.”
Great. Now I’m lying to my friends—making shit up, covering Jensen’s ass.
It makes me feel sick.
“That’s shitty. I hate when someone comes in and ruins everything for everyone else,” Mark chimes in.
“It is shitty.” I glance around, searching for a subject change. “How long have you been at your job, Mark?”
Seriously? That’s the best I could come up with? He literally just talked about his job.
“Seven years,” he says, and judging from the look on his face, I’ve officially outed myself as someone who hasn’t been listening.
A moment later, Jensen slides back into his seat. “God, babe. You look so fucking hot tonight. Let’s hurry with dinner. I’m dying to rip those pants off you.”
Scarlett busts up laughing. It’s not completely out of character for Jensen to say something like that, but in front of Mark, who we barely know? It’s a lot. It’s too much.
Mark chuckles, and I gawk at Jensen. I don’t know if I’m turned on or embarrassed. For a split second, I even wonder if he’s drunk. But then I look at his drink. He’s been nursing the same old fashioned all night, and it’s still half full.
Jensen’s hand finds my thigh again, his fingers creeping a little too high for comfort in public. He sniffs, then rubs at his nose, grinning.
“What’d I miss?”
What the hell?
Scarlett starts talking to him again, and it’s like the whole steak thing never happened. He’s back to being charming, flirty, easygoing Jensen.
He swipes at his nose again, sniffing.
My stomach drops. Shit. A knot twists tight in my core. He took something in the bathroom. But this isn’t Oxy. This behavior is noticeably different. He hasn’t been like this, not since he started taking the pain pills regularly.
Is he on some kind of stimulant? I wrack my brain. Adderall? Ritalin?
Then, the tiniest thought slips in—unwelcome and terrifying.
Cocaine.
No. No. He wouldn’t do that… Would he?
I fix my gaze on him, watching. His fingers make their way farther up my thigh, and he strokes along the inseam of my pants.
Jesus. I jolt, sitting up straighter and quickly crossing my legs.
Suddenly, I don’t know what Jensen would or wouldn’t do anymore. All I know is this isn’t Oxy.
And it sure as hell isn’t Jensen.