Chapter 9
Sumner
I went home with one plan: clear out Joey’s closet and take my clothes back to my apartment. I’d kept half my wardrobe at his place for years. Every time I thought about moving it, I backed off. Leaving him wasn’t simple. Doing it now, after everything, was.
I put the groceries on the counter, pulled two trash bags from under the sink, and went straight to the bedroom.
I didn’t look around the house for long.
My focus was the closet. I slid the door open and stared at the line of hangers that had felt permanent for too long.
I took three slow breaths and made myself start with all the jeans hanging there.
They went into the duffel without a pause.
The sweaters were next, then the few dresses that annoyed him whenever I wore them.
He hated when I dressed up or put on makeup, never once acknowledging the time or care I put into it.
Looking back, I’m ashamed I spent that effort on him instead of doing it for myself.
Around midday, my phone rang. It was a hospital number, and I almost let it go to voicemail. They had my name on the file as an emergency contact and would keep calling. So, I answered.
“Hello, this is Sumner.”
“Hi, this is Dr. Lenkova from the neurology floor at St. Seren’s. I’m calling about Mr. Elrod. Are you able to quickly verify your name and your relationship to the patient?”
I wanted to tell her no. That I had no idea who this Mr. Elrod was. But still had a heart in my chest, and deep down wasn’t a bad person.
“Uh, yeah. Sumner Ellis. I’m listed as his emergency contact and am his—was his partner.”
“I see.” I heard her type something in the background while she kept her tone professional. “I’m just calling to let you know what’s going to happen next.”
I stopped her before she could go on any further. “I would like to be taken off his contact info.”
“Alright. I will have to know who his new emergency contact is.”
I didn’t think it through that far, but I told her the one person I knew was invested in Joey’s well-being more than I was. And who lived closest to any of his other family members. “That would be his cousin, Deryk Elrod.”
“Would you be able to give me his number?”
“Yeah.” I lowered my phone and put it on speaker, then looked for Deryk’s number to tell her.
“Thank you. I’ve noted the change. Do you want us to still keep you updated anyway?”
I put the phone back to my ear and thought about it for a moment. “Is he going to be alright? In the long run, I mean?”
She paused for a second, probably choosing her words carefully because this wasn’t an easy thing to talk about.
“He had a concussion and lost a lot of blood. The staples are secure, and his scan looks acceptable for discharge. The memory loss may improve. It sometimes comes back in pieces. We can’t promise anything, but we’re not seeing signs that worry us for long-term function. ”
“Okay,” I said. “Then no. Please don’t update me any further. Contact his cousin for everything.”
“Of course,” she said. “If anything changes, you can always call the unit directly, but we’ll reach out to his cousin from now on.”
“Thanks,” I said, and ended the call before I could change my mind.
I put the phone face down on the dresser and went back to work.
By late afternoon, the closet only had Joey’s clothes left inside, and the drawer was half-empty too because, apparently, I had left all of my underwear here, and none back at my place.
I scanned every room for anything small that I could’ve left behind, like single socks or scarves, but I had done a good job of erasing myself from this house.
The only thing that was left for me to do was leave.
First, though, I sent a clear message to Joey’s parents; otherwise, Deryk would tell them I was leaving, and they’d come looking for answers I wasn’t ready to give.
We never had much of a relationship. They barely spoke to me at dinners, and when they did, it felt forced.
But I knew if I left without telling them, they’d call it disrespect, and they always had loud opinions when they were kept in the dark about things that weren’t their business.
I’m leaving Joey and moving my things out today. The hospital will contact Deryk for discharge and aftercare. I won’t be involved going forward. Please reach out to him or Deryk directly.
It delivered, and Joey’s mother read it immediately. Then the bubble popped up, telling me that she was writing back. I didn’t really care for a response, but I waited for it to come anyway.
Who’s this?
I stared at it, shocked for a second, then I rolled my eyes because I shouldn’t have expected too much. That said everything I needed to know. I deserved so much better. More love and appreciation. More thank yous. But I had never gotten any of that from Joey or anyone in his family.
I decided not to text back and put my phone in my pocket before grabbing the bags to head outside.
It took me two trips to the car, then I went to lock the door and slid the key under the doormat. I didn’t care about this house anymore, or the man who lived in it, and I left without looking back once.
Back at my apartment, I unpacked my clothes and took my time folding them neatly. The tension eased as the closet filled, but then the tears came, and I tried to fight them before I just let them.
I didn’t cry for Joey or the past we shared. I cried for myself. For finally moving on and understanding that the way Joey had treated me for years wasn’t how anyone should ever be treated.
When I felt steadier, I made dinner by pressing buttons on the air fryer.
Fries and nuggets would do it tonight, nothing heroic.
I put on a show, curled up on the couch, and tried to let my body relax.
I thought about texting Sly but decided not to.
I didn’t owe him anything, even if he had been extremely kind to me, but I wanted to get through the first evening alone.
I fell asleep early, then woke after midnight with a bad taste in my mouth from not brushing my teeth after dinner, and with my chest tight. Sly was on my mind again, and the urge to reach out to him hit hard.
I stared at my phone in the TV glow and picked it up when the pull got too strong to ignore. I searched for Sly’s number in my contacts and opened a new chat, then sent him a quick message.
I’m okay. Thanks for everything. – Sumner
I didn’t expect him to text me back in the middle of the night, but he read the message instantly, not even giving me time to process that he was already texting back.
Good, I’m glad to hear. I’m here if you need anything. If you don’t, I’ll stay out of the way.
He was giving me more than Joey ever had, and I was grateful for that. Still, I couldn’t let him get too close. Not just yet. I exhaled, sent him a quick thank you, then put the phone face down on the coffee table and went back to sleep.
***
Life without Joey, and without the constant second-guessing of what I said or did around him, turned out to be so much better.
Less stressful and just…lighter. The days moved the way days should when I wasn’t managing someone else’s moods, and the background noise in my head quieted enough that even simple things like making coffee or answering emails felt normal again.
Even work settled back into what it should’ve always been for me: fun.
As an editor, I had always loved the fact that I could work from home, or anywhere else, for that matter.
I could sit on my couch with my laptop on my lap, and the TV on in the background.
I had no co-workers bothering me, and my only interactions were chats with authors and other editors.
Joey had never respected any of that, and he said often that my job didn’t count because I wasn’t leaving the house to do it.
Still, the truth was that while he clocked nine hours and came home finished, I usually logged six more after dinner or before sunrise, depending on deadlines and how clean the copy came in.
I invoiced, tracked revisions, and delivered on dates that mattered to people who paid me for results.
I didn’t argue with him about it because the argument always lasted longer than the point.
Because I knew exactly what my workload looked like and didn’t need his approval to validate it, so I let his comments pass and saved my energy for the pages on my screen.
That day was the first time I worked without counting down to when I’d have to start dinner for someone who refused to cook, clean, or wash his own clothes. I wasn’t proud that I had stayed as long as I did. I should’ve stood up for myself, but I never did. Not until Sly came into my life.
Okay, to be fair, I still hadn’t stood up for myself. I basically just ran away when I got the opportunity. But after all the hurt Joey put me through, and with him not remembering me anyway, running was the only right thing to do.
It was ironic, really. I had read plenty of novels where women in bad relationships fought their way out. They empowered me, made me want to be just like them. But I never dared to.
Until now.