Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
JENSEN
I pull her in closer, resisting the urge to bury my face in her hair. Emotion surges through me, hard and fast, but I swallow it. This is all I’ve wanted for five months—hell, for a long time. To be here for Alley. Really be here. Clean. Sober. Her safe person again.
A sob wrenches out of her as she trembles in my arms.
“Hey, baby… I’ve got you.” The words tumble out. It’s what I’d say. It’s what I’ve always said.
I glance up, catching Megan’s and Matt’s eyes. I almost forgot they were there. Megan’s eyes are misty, and Matt just looks proud.
Alley slowly stills against me, and a part of me wishes this moment would never end. Because I don’t know what it means or if I’ll get another chance to comfort her. But God, I hope it’s not the last.
Her sobs quiet, her hands loosening their grip on my shirt. She presses her palms to my chest, and I ease my hold, letting her pull back.
She wipes at her cheeks. “Sorry,” she mumbles.
“Don’t be sorry,” I whisper back.
Her hands trail down to my abdomen, fingers lingering like she’s trying to remember me. Then she slides them to my sides and around my back, wrapping her arms around me. She presses her ear to my chest and exhales.
I take an even deeper breath, afraid to move—to ruin this.
For months, I’ve put in the work. Every day.
To grow. To be the best version of me I can be.
And I have grown. I am better. But no amount of push-ups, cycling, clean eating, or staying sober can fill this hole in my chest the way Alley just did.
It’s like I’ve been staring at the same damn puzzle for months. I’ve put every piece in its place except one. The full picture’s right in front of me. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t finish it—because the piece that makes it matter has been missing.
Her.
She’s the missing piece.
I’ll never be complete without her.
And right now—her arms around me, her face buried in my chest—I start to believe we might actually survive this.
That maybe… she’ll come back home.
She finally pulls away, and Megan steps in, quick to fill the silence. “Matt and I are gonna grab a bite to eat. Why don’t you two head down to the cafeteria, grab some food and talk.”
Alley’s eyes flick to mine, and she offers a small smile. “Okay.”
Just one word—but it hits like a drum in my chest.
She agreed to have dinner with me.
In a hospital cafeteria, sure, but still…
She wants to talk.
Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting in a booth across from my favorite person.
The walk down was mostly quiet. A thanks for coming from her. A you’re welcome and I want to be here for you from me. A few side glances from her in the hallway. And I couldn’t take my eyes off her in the elevator.
I haven’t heard from her since she rushed out of mediation, which makes me think she probably hasn’t read the letter. At least—fuck, I hope that’s why. Because if she has, and still didn’t reach out… I don’t know if anything I do will ever be enough.
I didn’t even plan on giving it to her. I shoved it in my pocket that morning as a last resort. If it came down to signing the papers—if I felt desperate enough, like there was nothing else I could do or say—then maybe I’d hand it over.
But I panicked. Gave it to her without thinking. It’s the one from my last week in rehab. The final letter I ever wrote.
Is it desperate? Yeah. But I’d been clean and clear-headed for fourteen weeks. It’s honest.
I glance down at the roasted chicken on my tray, guaranteed to be dry. They offered a side of gravy, but I held it.
Across from me, Alley stares at her food.
She looks exhausted. Still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on, but there’s something hollow in her cheeks, something fragile about the way she moves.
Like she hasn’t eaten or slept in days. She’s lost weight, too.
Not in a purposeful way, but in the way stress wears you down, like she’s had so much on her mind she forgot to take care of herself.
She looks up, eyes roaming over me, lingering. Her gaze drops to my hands, then to her own as she reaches for her spoon.
No ring.
Shit. My stomach knots, but I stay focused on her face.
“Tell me about your dad,” I say gently. “What’s going on?”
She picks up her spoon, poking at her mashed potatoes. “He has cirrhosis of the liver.” She pauses. “You know… from all the drinking.”
I don’t know much about that, only that it’s not good. I expect her to say more, but she doesn’t.
“Shit. I’m sorry. Can you explain it to me? Not like a nurse, just… for a regular person. Is he going to be okay?”
“His liver’s not working like it should,” she says quietly. “It’s not processing toxins, so they’ve got him on fluids and meds to help clear the ammonia out of his system. He’s jaundiced, his stomach’s swollen…” Her voice trails off as she sets the spoon down, still full of potato.
“Yesterday he was confused. He didn’t know where he was or why.
” She finally meets my eyes. “That means the toxins reached the brain.” She takes a deep breath.
“He’ll probably be here a couple weeks, maybe longer.
It depends how he responds to treatment.
It’s one of those things where only time will tell.
” Her voice drops even quieter. “He could stabilize and be okay for a while. It could flare up again. This could go on for years… Or he could be gone tomorrow.”
She swallows hard.“He most likely wouldn’t qualify for a transplant if he gets worse. Not after all the drinking. And even if he did—it’s a long list.” I just…” Her voice breaks. “I can’t lose another person I love.”
She closes her eyes, shoulders sagging as a tear slips down her cheek. It takes everything in me not to rush to her side, pull her into my arms, and kiss every trace of hurt away.
“You haven’t lost me,” I say, voice low and steady.
She squeezes her eyes tighter as she shakes her head. “Jensen—”
“I’m right here, Alley.”
She doesn’t answer. Just swipes at her cheek, trying to hold it together.
When she finally opens her eyes, she avoids mine, letting my last words hang in the tension between us.
I take my first bite of chicken and chew—but not for long. A second later, I’m pounding my fist against my chest, coughing. “Holy shit,” I choke out, grabbing my glass of water and downing half of it to force the bite down. “That’s so dry it’s a choking hazard.”
Her lips curve—barely—but it’s the closest thing to a smile I’ve seen from her in months.
“What’d you expect? It’s hospital chicken.
You’ve gotta drown that shit in gravy.” She finally brings the mashed potatoes to her mouth, then pauses.
“What are you, worried you’re gonna get fat?
” She smirks, then flips the spoon upside down and pulls it out slow, her tongue catching every last bit like it’s the best thing she’s tasted in weeks.
Somehow, my mouth gets even fucking drier. My dick twitches in my pants, and I let out a sharp breath of a laugh. “Would you judge me if I said yes?”
And there it is…
A smile.
The most beautiful smile stretches across her face, complete with that one dimple that puts me on my knees every goddamn time.
I’d fucking kill for that smile.
Heat flashes through my veins as I try to steady whatever the fuck’s happening in my body.
“Yes.” A small laugh escapes her lips as she shakes her head. “So, holding the gravy—is that your recipe for all the new muscles?”
A smirk tugs at my mouth, and I lean in a little, cocking a brow. “So, you noticed, huh?”
“Hard not to.” Her eyes roam over me, slicing heat into every inch of skin as they drag across me. They land on my forearm, where I’ve got my sleeves pushed up just a few inches.
“And the tattoo… That’s new.”
I chuckle, low and deep. “Yep. A lot of things are new.”
“It’s like I don’t even know you anymore,” she says, spooning up more potatoes.
That one hits harder than I want to admit. Because in some ways, she’s right. And in others, I’ve never felt more like myself.
“I’m the same where it counts.”
My gaze follows her spoon as she brings it to her lips. She takes another bite, pulling the spoon from her mouth slow—slower than before. My eyes stay locked on her lips, and my brain short-circuits. Jesus.
I shift in my seat. “Alley…” I clear my throat, trying to play it cool. “If you keep sucking on that spoon like that…” I let out another low chuckle. “Fuck.” My voice drops. “You trying to kill me?”
She pauses, eyes lifting to mine, brows arched. The corner of her mouth quirks. “Didn’t know walking zombies turned you on.”
I laugh—hard.
She grins, a little sheepish, but there’s a sparkle in her eyes. “Come on. I look like hell, Jensen.”
“You could never look like hell,” I say, still smiling. “You look tired as shit, yeah, but still the hottest zombie I’ve ever seen.”
“You’re such a dumbass,” she says, laughing.
Fuck, I’ll take it. That laugh? I’ve missed that laugh.
“And yet…” I nudge her foot under the table. “You knew exactly what you were doing with that spoon.”
“No!” She points the spoon at me, eyes wide. “I didn’t realize I was doing that. I swear. I’m just really hungry.”
“Sure,” I murmur, “let’s go with that.”
She rolls her eyes, but that dimple’s still there. And for a second, it feels like old times. Catches me right in the goddamn heart.
I steady my breath—her closeness, her laughter—it feels so fucking good.
Not to mention, I’m painfully turned on. It’s been more than six months since I’ve had sex. The longest I’ve gone since I lost my virginity, and I can’t stop picturing my wife’s beautiful lips around my cock.
But it’s not even about that.
I just want to take her out to a real dinner. Go for a walk. Cuddle during a movie. I want to stay up all night talking to her. I miss her.
I want to hang out with my best friend.
I let myself stare, taking her in, soaking up every second.
God, it feels like I’m standing on the edge of everything. I’m this fucking close to getting it all back… or losing it for good.