Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
ALLEY
The bottles clink together as I toss them into the glass recycle bin. That’s the last of them. I move on to gathering garbage from Matt’s living room and kitchen, scooping up paper plates and half-empty cups.
The patio door slides open.
“Al, you don’t need to clean up. Maggie’s coming tomorrow morning,” Matt says as he walks toward me.
“It’s fine. You know I can’t leave a mess.”
“But you don’t live here. You don’t even have to look at it. You can just... leave.”
“I know.” I don’t look up. I just keep moving. I’m afraid the night will catch up to me if I stop.
Matt doesn’t press. He passes me, grabs a Voss water from the fridge, and disappears back outside.
Everyone’s gone now, except for Jensen and me, but the tension left behind still hovers like a thick fog.
Even after Scarlett hugged Jensen and I told him I’d stay with him tonight, the awkwardness that followed was suffocating.
No one knew where to look. Kevin cleared his throat, muttered something, and went to the patio.
Scarlett slipped out without saying another word. Megan trailed after Kevin.
Now it’s just us.
Jensen held me, whispering the sweetest things, though I couldn’t tell you what they were. It’s like I blacked out in his arms, letting them hold me up while the silence rang in my ears and the haze blurred my vision.
Eventually, he loosened his hold, and I slipped away, going straight into cleaning mode. Picking up empty plates and wiping countertops. Moving like a robot.
I told him I’d stay with him.
I want to. I really do. But I’m nowhere near ready, and now I’m nervous.
Nervous to walk down the same hallway that seemed never-ending the morning I left.
To step into the elevator that carried me out when it felt like bricks were crushing my chest. To walk into the place I used to call home.
The place that holds some of my best memories of Jensen. Of us. Where I fell in love with him.
But it’s also where all the pain is. Where I sat for hours, staring at the walls while they stared back at me, watching me cry. Where promises and vows were broken by lies and locked doors.
So I keep cleaning.
I was proud of him tonight. For being so vulnerable with Scarlett. The way he stood up for himself. Owned his shit. Tried to fix it with her, for me. In front of everyone.
It felt like every answer I’d been searching for came crashing into me at once. Here they are. Here he is. The old Jensen. The man you fell in love with.
He’s still here.
He’s. Right. Here.
All I had to do was reach out and tell him that I wanted him too. Tell him I’d go home with him. So I did. At the time, it felt like the obvious choice. How can we work on our relationship when we only see each other a few days a week? It seemed like the right thing to do. A simple decision.
Except… it’s not. Nothing about this is simple.
My fingers tremble as I pull open the drawer to the trash, tossing in another handful of garbage. I grab a rag and start wiping down the counters. I’m a clean freak on a normal day, but when I’m stressed? I go into overdrive.
Once I started cleaning, Jensen went out on the balcony with Matt.
The patio door slides open again. This time, it’s Jensen’s voice that pulls my attention. “Hey, babe. You ready to go?”
We step off the elevator, my grip tightening around Jensen’s hand. My heart beats faster with every step down the hallway. This isn’t a big deal, I tell myself. It’s fine. You’re fine.
Nerves crawl up my spine as Jensen punches in the code. Zero. Four. One. Three.
“Babe?”
I look up.
“You okay?”
No. I nod anyway. “Yeah. Of course.” I smile but it’s forced and stiff.
He pushes the door and we both step inside, and I feel… okay.
I’m okay.
My gaze sweeps across the kitchen and the living room, and I let out a sigh of relief. Warmth rushes through me, spreading into every limb, bringing the kind of comfort I can only call home. Not Vivian and Leo’s place. Not Matt’s. Ours.
I set my purse on the stool and take a slow, steady breath. A smile curves my lips as Jensen heads for the fridge, grabbing two waters.
I make my way into the living room, letting the feeling of being here soak in. My fingers trail along the back of the couch, my gaze catching on Phyllis, my elephant ear plant, in the corner by the window.
She’s thriving.
The backs of my eyes sting as a sudden wave of emotion slams into me. I press my lips together and sniff. He took care of Phyllis.
I’d pictured her hanging on by a leaf or two, half-dead—not like this. She’s taller, fuller, stronger than ever.
I can feel Jensen watching me, patient and quiet, letting me take it all in.
“You took care of Phyllis,” I say, turning toward him.
His head dips in a small nod. “Told you I did.”
I brush a finger under my eye, overwhelmed by how much this stupid, simple thing matters.
“How you feeling?” he asks, crossing the room, waters in hand. “You wanna watch a movie? Go to bed? Talk?”
He knows. He knows me so well that he understands exactly where I am right now, even if he doesn’t fully get it. Even if he’s unaware of the full weight of his choices and their consequences, their effect on me. Even if he doesn’t remember. He’s still aware.
He’s not making jokes. Not making a move, though I wouldn’t say no, especially after that halftime show. Good Lord. But he knows it’s not the time. And that alone tells me—this is the Jensen I fell in love with.
The man who waited a month before we slept together. The man who memorized my coffee order after a single run-in at the coffee shop, before he even knew if he’d see me again. The man who showered me with affection and attention. Who always knew what I needed, in every moment of every day.
I slide my arms around his back and tilt my chin up. “I just want to be with you. Talk. Snuggle. We can get ready for bed and then… will you just hold me?”
His lips twitch, one corner curving into that trademark smirk that always makes me feel more at ease.
“I’d love that, babe.” He rubs my shoulders, presses a kiss to my forehead, then threads his fingers through mine and leads me toward the bedroom. Down the hall.
My eyes flick to the office door, and a spark of panic taps against the edge of my peace.
As we near it, he slows, opens the door, and pushes it all the way until it’s flush against the wall.
A calm pours over me, my pulse steadying. Oh my God. He can’t possibly know how much that means to me. How much I needed it.
His hands come up to cup my face, his eyes meeting mine. “Office door stays open. Always.” He leans in, brushing his lips over mine—soft, tentative—then kisses me again, firmer this time but no tongue. Just quiet devotion.
“Let’s get ready for bed,” he says with a smile. Then, he smacks my ass with a low grunt, his bottom lip catching between his teeth.
I laugh, the sound coming easily, and it feels so damn good. It’s so natural. Images flash in my mind, ones of us laughing, teasing, and having fun. Ones I’d buried, because the bad always took over.
But not tonight.
Tonight’s about new beginnings. About moving forward and leaving the past where it belongs.
It’s dark.
Jensen’s fingers trace slowly back and forth, skimming the top of my breast. I’m turned on, but more than that, it just feels good—being wrapped in his arms, spooning.
It’s my favorite way to cuddle: his chest pressed to my back, my head half on the pillow, half on his bicep.
Every space between us sealed tight. His bottom arm draped over mine, my top arm holding his.
It’s intimate, warm, and the way we usually fall asleep after sex.
But we haven’t had sex.
“Is it worse to have me here and not have sex than to have me at Scarlett’s?” I murmur.
“Nothing’s worse than not having you here.” His voice is low and gravelly, and it sends a slow vibration down my spine.
I tighten my hold on him. “I love this. Being held by you. It’s one of my favorite things.”
“I love holding you.”
I told him earlier I didn’t want to have sex tonight. Not because I don’t want to—God, I do—but because I needed to be here. Really be here. I wanted to feel our home. Feel Jensen. Feel everything without sex soothing my anxiety or giving me a false sense of security.
It’s worked. Everything about being here feels right. And damn, it feels good to be back in my own bed. Leo and Vivian’s is comfortable, but it’s not mine.
We’ve been reminiscing again. We talked about tonight, too, about Scarlett and Megan, and about Matt standing up for Jensen. That meant everything. Jensen asked if I was mad at him. Or at Scarlett.
I told him I wasn’t.
I’m not. Mad isn’t the right word. Frustrated, maybe?
It was awkward and uncomfortable—very non-self-aware of Scarlett and Megan, but I get it.
I just wish I hadn’t been in the middle of it all.
The questions from Megan. Stuck between Jensen and Scarlett.
I don’t blame any of them for their feelings, especially Scarlett.
I didn’t tell her much for a long time, and even after I did, it took me a while to open up fully.
But in that last month before I left, when Jensen relapsed again and everything fell apart, she was one of my go-tos.
I spent the night at her place more than once.
Cried for hours on her couch. Told her things Jensen had done that I’ve never told anyone else.
Not even Matt. And Matt knows more than anyone about what went on with Jensen.
Scarlett’s the person I called at Leo and Vivian’s when I had a rough day, which, in the beginning, was almost every day until I started getting closer to Cooper and Vivian.
She saw the pain. She heard the shit. She felt it too.
Jensen’s thumb grazes the pointed peak of my nipple. I’m in my pajamas, a silk cami set that barely covers my boobs, with cheeky shorts to match.