Chapter 38 Oak
thirty Eight-Oak
The next morning.
Everything felt different in the light.
Last night, I’d told myself I was cool with what happened. While it was happening. I let myself believe I was taking back control—reclaiming something. That if I could just be part of what had developed between them, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so bad. But now?
Now, even with the sweet taste of her was still on my tongue. The imprint of her nails still burned down my back. I could still see her—on her knees for him, looking up at me like I should’ve understood.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I stood, legs stiff, heart even stiffer. Walked to the window because I needed something to anchor me.
It didn’t work.
I was raw. Sober in the worst way. Watching your wife suck another man’s dick will do that to you.
. I wanted to scream. Break something. Punch Ciarán in the fucking mouth. Crawl inside myself and disappear.
But I couldn’t do shit. Because I’d said yes.
I’d let it happen.
And now I had to live with it.
Hearing footsteps behind me, I didn’t need to turn around to know it was her. I could feel her presence, the way the air shifted when she was near. My grip went from my cup to the kitchen table.
“Good morning, Oak,” she said softly.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My throat felt too tight, my chest too heavy. My eyes burned, but I refused to blink.
She stepped closer, I could hear her bare feet padding against the hardwood. I could smell her—soap, and the cocoa butter on her skin, and something that was just Jordin. That scent used to calm me. Now it made my stomach turn.
“Look at me,” she said, her voice firmer this time.
I turned slowly. My eyes met hers.
She was standing there in nothing but one of my old t-shirts, her hair messy, lips a little chapped. She looked like she belonged here. In his house.
“What the hell was that, Jordin?” I asked, my voice rough, scratchy from silence and swallowing too much.
She didn’t flinch. “You know what it was.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “I don’t. I don’t know what you want from me. From us.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands resting at her sides like she was trying not to reach for me. “I want you, Oak. I want our life. I want the house, the kids, the future we talked about. I want all of it.”
“Then what the hell was that?” I snapped, stepping toward her, my jaw tight. “Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like you wanted us.”
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, tugging slightly at the ends like she was trying to pull the right words loose.
“It’s not that simple.”
“Then explain it to me,” I said, my voice breaking. I dropped back into a chair, my shoulders slumped. “Because I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you can say you want me, want us, and then… and then do that.”
She paused, biting her bottom lip before releasing it with a soft pop.
“Ciarán… he speaks to a part of me that you don’t,” she said finally.
“You’re a provider, my protector. You’re steady, reliable.
You’re everything I need in so many ways.
But Ciarán… he’s different. He’s romantic, creative.
He sees the world in a way that I do, and he makes me feel things I didn’t even know I needed. ”
Her confession felt cruel.
I stared at her, my chest tightening, one hand curled into a fist against my thigh. “So what? You’re saying I’m not enough for you?”
“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head, stepping forward. “That’s not what I’m saying. You’re enough, Oak. But you’re not everything. And neither is Ciarán… he’s not you. He’s something else. And I want both. I want you, and I want him.”
I laughed, the sound bitter and hollow. My head dropped forward and I let it hang for a second, then looked up at her again. “You want both? You want to have your cake and eat it too? Is that what this is?”
“Yes, Oak. That’s the fucking point of cake,” she snapped.
“And if I say no?” I asked, voice low.
She scoffed. “You were my bully in high school. You made my life hell. And then, when I gave you another chance—when I let myself believe you’d changed—you cheated on me. You lied to me. You tried to gaslight me into believing it was my fault. You say no, then it’s the end of us.”
I stumbled back a step, my hand gripping the chair for balance.
My mind reeled. She was right. I had done those things.
I had hurt her in ways I couldn’t even begin to make up for.
And now, she was standing in front of me, telling me she wanted to stay married to me, to build the life we’d always talked about… but she also wanted him too.
I stared at her, heart pounding, throat dry. “You’d really choose him over me?”
“I’m not choosing him over you,” she said. “I’m choosing me. I’m choosing what I need. And if you can’t accept that, then It’s the end.”
I didn’t know what to say. I loved her more than anything. But I didn’t know if I could do this. If I could share her. If I could live with knowing that I wasn’t enough.
She stepped closer, gently cupping my face with both hands, thumbs brushing my cheekbones. “I love you, Oak,” she said, soft but certain. “But I need this. I need him. And if you love me… if you really love me… you’ll let me have it.”
I closed my eyes, her words echoing through the quiet like thunder. I didn’t know what the right answer was. I didn’t even know if one existed.
All I knew was I couldn’t lose her.
But I wasn’t sure I could keep her, either.