Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
ALLEY
THEN—NINE MONTHS AGO
NOVEMBER
I place the last ornament from the box on the tree and step back, assessing my work. There’s a cluster on the bottom right—too much of the same. I pull off one of the medium round snowball ornaments and find a new home for it on the opposite side, where things look a little bare.
Sinking onto the couch, I take it in. The twinkling lights cast a glow across the room, spreading a warm happiness through me I haven’t felt in a long time.
This is my favorite time of year.
It’s the Sunday after Thanksgiving, and this has become a tradition for Jensen and me. Football’s muted in the background, soft holiday music floats through the air. Jensen helped me put the tree up, but the decorating? That’s my thing. I like it a certain way.
He’s in the kitchen now, making the wassail for our first holiday movie of the year, Just Friends. It’s our favorite.
The past few months have been confusing.
I honestly don’t know where Jensen stands right now.
He says he’s clean, and maybe he is. But sometimes—sometimes I feel it.
I can sense that he’s off. Like he’s hiding something, but he always swears he’s not.
I don’t know if I believe him. And he’s here, so…
I can’t help but wonder if he’s just getting better at hiding it. Better at lying. Better at dosing. Better at finding the right upper for the downer. I hate that I can’t be sure, and what’s worse is that I don’t fully trust him yet.
I want to, though. God, I want to.
“Hey babe, this is ready. Wanna pull up the movie?” Jensen calls out, stirring the pot one last time.
“Yep.” I navigate to Prime, rent Just Friends, and queue it up. A minute later, Jensen settles in beside me and hands me a steaming mug of wassail. “Thanks, babe.”
I blow on the surface, take a careful sip, and let the warmth spread through me. I savor the blend of sweet and spiced—it’s Christmas in a cup. I set the mug down and snuggle up beside Jensen. His hand finds mine beneath the blanket now draped over both our laps.
Thanksgiving was different this year. We stayed home, just the two of us. I didn’t want to be around Christy. I know it’s petty, but I can’t forgive her. I cooked dinner, and Jensen helped with the sides. It was… fine.
I debated inviting Matt or a few other friends, but it didn’t feel right asking Matt to choose between us or Jensen’s family.
Most of our friends already had plans, anyway.
Honestly? It was for the best. I was worried Jensen would have a bad day or not show up at all.
But he managed to be there and keep his shit together. It was a small win.
I haven’t spoken to Christy since the night of Zach and Joey’s wedding. And Megan hasn’t spoken to Jensen in almost as long. The two of them had it out the same week.
Megan came over to check on him—and me. But the second she saw him, and saw what it was doing to me, she snapped. She couldn’t handle it. She started yelling, screaming at him, called him a piece of shit husband. She was hysterical. I almost had to kick her out.
She apologized to me later, and we still talk almost every day. But she still hasn’t said anything to Jensen. And he hasn’t tried to fix it either.
I understand why it triggered her. It’s hard. It’s so hard to watch someone you love destroy themselves. To waste their potential. To wreck every relationship they have for something they didn’t exactly choose— but still keep choosing anyway. It’s no easy feat.
Basically, the last few months have sucked. I even had to cancel my trip to Chicago for Michael’s birthday. I couldn’t leave Jensen. I couldn’t trust that he wouldn’t spiral if I was gone. I had to lie about not being able to get time off work.
We’re five minutes into the movie when Jensen’s hand drops to my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. He presses a kiss to my temple. “The tree looks great, babe.” His thumb brushes back and forth over my Christmas pajamas.
“Thanks,” I say, leaning into him, letting my head fall onto his shoulder. I take what I can get while he’s here—being present, being normal.
The corners of my lips curve slightly, melting into his touch. God, I want him to scoop me into his arms. To kiss me, touch me—make love to me.
But he won’t.
That’s one thing that still isn’t normal—not since that night. The night I pushed him off of me. Things haven’t been the same since. Whether Jensen’s scared to try, or just not interested… I’m not sure. But a sadness tugs at my chest when I’m near him like this. A longing. A thirst I can’t quench.
I tilt my head, looking up at him. “I love you,” I whisper.
He glances down at me. “I love you too.” His hand squeezes my thigh again, and I hesitate.
Do I just… make a move?
I search his eyes. He looks normal. Like Jensen. Is this just his new normal, though? Do I even remember what the old Jensen looked like?
My pulse quickens. It’s pathetic, really—being nervous to make a move on my own husband.
What if he’s not clean? What if he doesn’t want me?
I steady myself with a deep breath and climb onto his lap, straddling him. His hands find my ass instantly, a slow grin stretching across his face as our eyes lock.
“Hey, baby,” he says, his voice low and deep, seconds before he crashes his mouth to mine.
My God.
I’ve missed him.
I drink in the warmth of his lips like they’re the air I need to breathe. My heart thunders in my chest, and a fluttery sensation spreads low and hot in my core. I’m instantly wet. Heat pools between my thighs, and butterflies stir in my stomach.
He groans into my mouth, one hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck, pulling me even closer as he devours me. I grind against him, and I feel his length hardening beneath me.
There he is.