Jolene
I can’t believe I sent that text.
I knew I shouldn’t have but I was still so irritated from Cassie’s dumbass picture message that I sent it without thinking.
Talkin’ to Jace was a diabolical text to send, knowing the only thing you said to Jace was that he needed to stop callin’ you.
I checked my home screen for a response from Dak, disappointed to find there was nothing there. I tapped our text feed.
He read it thirteen minutes ago…
“He better not be judging me. A text is nothin’ compared to sleepin’ with someone,” I said to myself.
I unbraided my hair, lettin’ it fall in loose waves.
My mama stuck her head in my room. “Your car is here, honey!”
Thank goodness.
“Great, thanks, Mama!”
Time to do a little…investigating.
Grabbing my keys and my purse, I ran down the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“I’ll be back, Mama!” I called out, grabbing my boots on the way out the front door.
“Where you headed, Shug?” My daddy questioned from around the side of the porch.
I didn’t even see him standin’ there.
He was painting my mama’s rocking chairs, the man unable to let his hands ever rest.
I walked over to where he was working. “I’m gonna go by the bank, Dad,” I lied. “Just gonna go say hey to everybody. I’m goin’ stir crazy.”
He slowly dragged his brush along the arm rail. “I understand.”
“Thanks for gettin’ my car home for me! I’ll be back soon.” I kissed the top of his old, faded Georgia Bulldogs hat.
I climbed in my car before he could ask any more questions, the scent of Jace’s cologne smacking me in the face.
Why the fuck does my car smell like him?
I pulled out of my driveway with one destination in mind: Dakota’s house.
You are officially batshit crazy.
Cranking the music up to drown out my voice of reason, I drove straight to Dakota’s street.
You’re gonna have to open the garage door to even see if she’s there, .
When my voice of reason starts using my government name, I know I’ve gone too far, but I lifted my center console, anyways. With the compartment opened, I fumbled around inside, feeling around for the garage door opener he had given me years ago.
The rumble strips vibrated underneath my tires.
Keep your eyes on the road, bitch.
While cussing myself mentally for having a cluttered car, I finally located the device. Pulling up into his driveway, I pressed the button to open his garage. Within seconds, the door began to lift, revealing a certain black Ford Escape.
She’s here.
I pressed the button again to close the door before putting my car in reverse.
You are officially insane.
Leaving his street, I drove towards town, unsure of where I was actually going from here. I passed by the church where my world had stopped turning.
How does that feel like it happened five minutes ago and five weeks ago, all at the same damn time.
I was still supposed to be on my honeymoon, living in perfectly matched newlywedded bliss and somehow, I’m riding around stalking my former best friend who was sleeping with my fiancé because I’m pissed that she’s sleeping with her own fiancé who is my former fiancé’s best friend.
If you listen reeeeeaally closely, you’ll hear “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!”
I turned into the old Save- A- Lot parking lot to give myself a minute. I could feel myself getting worked up and the way my anxiety is set up…
I looked around the car for five things I could touch, smell, and feel.
Steering wheel… air freshener… satin hair scrunchie on the rearview… Jace’s suitcase…
Jace’s suitcase.
That’s why it smells like his cologne in here.
In all the chaos, I had forgotten that he had it in here so we could leave straight for the cabin.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I crept out of the parking lot. I didn’t want to see him, but I didn’t want his stuff anywhere near me.
I cruised down the road I had driven many, many times before eventually turning onto the pathway that led to the house that I once considered my own. Tears threatened when I pulled into my spot as I took in the way that nothing outside of the house had changed. The rocking chairs were situated the way I had put them; the little Christmas trees were still on the porch. The wreath I had made at a local boutique still hung on the door, proudly bearing the name I was so excited to take. As I stared at the house that I had found and picked out, I allowed myself a few minutes to grieve.
I grieved for the choices I didn’t get to make, and the ones I had made far too wrong.
I grieved for the future I had planned to a T, and the one I couldn’t plan now at all.
I grieved for the feeling of knowing I was loved and for the worry I’d never really felt it at all.
I grieved for the trust I’d given so freely and for the fear that I’d never trust again.
I grieved for my best friend and the lifetime we’d spent together and for the lifetime we would now spend apart.
I grieved for my high school sweetheart and the time we had spent together and for the time we would never have again.
I grieved for the girl that I had grown up to be and for the girl I’m now forced to become.
Tears splashed at my thighs as I gave into the pain.
As I pulled it together, I pulled out my phone, my fingers shakily typing out a text.
A split second later, the front door opened, and my ex-fiancé walked out. I grabbed his bag from the back seat before climbing out of the car.
“Hey, Lenie,” he spoke softly.
He looked like shit. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days and like there wasn’t a razor left in the house. For a weak moment, my heart went out to him.
“I have your bag.” I held it out to him.
He took it from me and sat it on the porch step.
“I figured you had thrown it away.”
I leaned against my car. “I should have.” He ran his fingers through his unruly wild, unwashed hair. “I wouldn’t have blamed you.”
His lying eyes had the audacity to look sad.
I don’t want to be here.
“I’m gonna go.”
He grabbed my arm, and I pulled away, his touch feeling as if it had burned me.
“Please, Lena, can we talk?” he pleaded, his voice wavering.
Blinking back tears, I shook my head. “Nothin’ you say is goin’ to make a difference.
Nothin’ changes reality.”
Getting in my car, I pulled away without a backwards glance.
A part of me felt relieved.
I knew my worth and wouldn’t allow myself to settle for less, but the other half of me was disappointed that Dakota didn’t value himself the same way.