Chapter 8
Jackson
Someone bangs on my motel room door, and I jerk awake.
“Open up, Jackson!” Wade bangs louder when I don’t answer. “I’m not going anywhere. I will bang on this door all night if I have to.”
Knowing Wade, he likely would.
With a resigned sigh, I lift myself out of bed, sway slightly on my way to the door, and set my bottle down on the dresser. I pull open the door, recoiling and shielding my sensitive eyes from the too-bright light.
I don’t know what day or time it is, and I don’t care.
Wade came straight from work. His reddish-brown hair is slightly damp, as if he showered not that long ago, and he’s in the local high school hockey team's branded hoodie, navy sweatpants, and sneakers he practically lives in.
“Christ.” He whistles between his teeth. “You look like hell.”
“Go home, Wade.”
He slips past me as I’m shutting the door in his face, his blue gaze landing on the nearly empty bottle of whiskey.
He lifts his brow. “Whiskey? Since when did you drink whiskey?”
“Since now.” I shut the door, snatching the bottle on my way back to the bed as he reaches for it. Knowing Wade, he’ll take it or knock it over, thinking he’s doing me a favor.
I settle back on the bed and take a big gulp. It burns all the way down.
Wade stands in front of me, arms crossed and radiating disapproval. “Your dad called me.”
“Figured.” I lift the bottle to my lips.
“Have you eaten today?”
I shrug.
His brows knit together. “It’s nearly five o’clock. Please tell me you haven’t been like this for the last two days.”
I pick up the remote and switch on the TV. “If you came here to judge, I’d appreciate it if you just left instead. I’m not in the mood.”
He turns off the TV from the monitor and stands in front of it, blocking my view. Even if I wanted to turn it back on, I wouldn’t see shit.
“Your dad told me about Ellie. I came here to knock some sense into you. Looks like you’re doing a better job of beating yourself up than I could.”
“Don’t.” I stare at the bottle of whiskey, wishing it were having a better effect on me than this. Before, it would dull at least some of the pain. Now, all I do is feel. All I do is remember that Ellie is gone and she’s not coming back.
“And your dad told me about Rachel,” Wade continues as if I’ve not made it perfectly clear that he’s not welcome.
“I don’t want to talk, Wade.” I’m in here desperately trying to forget, so I take another gulp of whiskey.
“Ellie walked in on your assistant giving you a blowjob.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. My stomach roils, and I swallow twice to stop the bile rising from my belly. “Yes, well, I was there at the time,” I say tightly. “No need to remind me.”
He glares down at me. “Lila said you kissed Rachel. You love Ellie. How could you—”
“It just happened, okay?” I snap, wrenching my eyelids open and surging to my feet to glare at him. Swaying, I widen my stance, regretting standing up so fast. “I don’t know why I would do that, but I did. And now I’ve lost Ellie. I’ve lost my family.” My voice cracks, and my vision turns blurry.
“Jackson…” He takes a step toward me, his anger melting away and concern taking its place.
I don’t want his concern or his pity.
“Get out.” I harden my voice because he’s not getting the message that I want him gone.
He reaches for my arm.
I stumble, nearly falling as I move away. “Get out of here, or I’ll throw you out.”
He snorts. “You don’t look like you can throw shit, Jack.”
I stalk past him, swaying, keeping a tight grip on the neck of my bottle, and wrench the door open, missing it the first time.
I hold it open and glare at my friend, of whom I’m seeing double. “Get out. You wasted your time coming here. Go.”
“I’m your friend, Jack.”
“Yeah, well, all things come to an end. Take your pity elsewhere. I don’t want it.”
“This isn’t pity.”
“Whatever it is, I don’t want it.”
He stares at me for a beat. Then he releases a pissed-off, frustrated sigh. “Fine. I’ll be back.”
“Sure you will.”
Next time I’ll know not to bother opening the door.
He walks toward me, pausing beside the door I’m holding open. “You screwed up. No one’s denying that. But punishing yourself doesn’t fix anything. It just makes you useless.”
I flinch. “Thanks.”
“That wasn’t an insult,” he says with a sigh.
“It’s the truth. You’re not eating, and you’re drinking whiskey like water when you rarely drink.
And you’re not talking to anyone. You’re drowning, Jack.
And you think that’s noble? You think that makes you better?
It doesn’t. It just means you’re giving up. ”
I look away. “It doesn’t matter what I do. Ellie won’t want me.”
“You don’t know that.”
I lift my head. “You didn’t see the look in her eyes, Wade. You weren’t there at her parents’ house when she was telling me she wants a divorce.”
His face twists in sympathy. “She just needs time.”
“Yes,” I agree. “Time to find a lawyer, to file for a divorce, and to move on to someone else who won’t betray her the way I did. It’s over. There’s no saving my marriage. I wish there was, but Ellie deserves better.”
“Then prove you can be better.”
I blink. “How?”
He waves a hand in my general direction.
“Get out of these wrinkled clothes, take a shower, put down the whiskey, and become the man you claim to want to be. Not for a second chance with Ellie. For yourself. Because this isn’t you.
That thing with Rachel wasn’t you either.
Something is off-kilter with you, and you need to figure out what it is and fix it. ”
I stare at him, chest tight, wishing it was as easy as that. “It won’t be enough.”
“But it might.” Wade softens his voice. “And if she sees that? If she sees you actually changing? Then maybe you’ll get another shot. But right now? You’re not giving her a man to come back to. Show her what you could be. That you’ve learned. That you are the man she needs.”
I’m desperate to believe Wade, but I’m terrified I’d be setting myself up for failure. “It’s too late.”
He gives my shoulder a squeeze, and his lips tilt up in a smile. “It’s never too late to try, Jack.”
For one moment, I see it.
I'm going to therapy, giving Ellie time and space, and we're gradually starting to talk, to heal, to get back to where we were before.
Then I'm moving back into the house, and she's telling me she loves me.
I almost see it. Can almost touch this impossible future.
Until a flash of memory hits like an uppercut to the jaw. What I did… Ellie dropping her wedding ring on my office floor… the anguish filling her eyes.
It’s over for us. I’m dreaming of the impossible.
“You should go,” I say. “No need to come back here, and tell everyone else to stop calling and texting.”
I step back, and with another sigh, he walks out.
I shut the door, lock it, and then stand by the motel window, swaying. Outside, the sun is setting, night fast approaching.
Ellie will be with her parents, or maybe she’s moved back into the house, where she’ll be stripping every memory of our lives together from the wall. Maybe she’s already found a lawyer, and divorce papers are on their way to me.
My eyes swim with tears.
I set the bottle down on the dresser before I drop it, grab the edge with both hands and bow my head. Tears drip from my eyes, and my breath comes in short, uneven bursts.
I can still see Ellie’s face… in the doorway, eyes wide with shock. With pain.
She saw it all.
Saw me come in Rachel’s mouth.
Saw Rachel rise from the floor with a grin, and me grinning back.
And she will never forgive me for it.
How could she?
I have lost my family forever.
I slam my fist against the wall, leaving a large dent in it. Someone yells from the next room.
My hand throbs, yet it isn’t enough. Not enough pain or hurt. Not enough of anything.
I slam my fist into the wall again, creating a bigger hole. Pain shoots up my arm, but I don’t stop. I need to feel something other than the panic clawing at my throat.
Another yell comes again. Footsteps move toward my room. Then banging at my door.
“Fuck off!” I yell.
The violence in my voice silences whoever is just outside.
Footsteps move away.
I push away from the dresser, running a hand through my hair, tugging hard at the roots. My heart is pounding so fast it hurts.
As a door clicks shut next door, I seize the bottle from the dresser and stumble back to the bed, to sit, to drink, to forget.
All I want to do is forget.