21. Chapter 21 The Messy In-Between
Jenna: December
I rush into the school building, my mind still tangled in the moment I shared with Dylan, replaying it on repeat.
“Jinx, over here!” Jacob calls, waving me over. He checks his watch and exhales sharply. “You’re late. As always.” Nosy Nancy waves hello as she whispers to another parent waiting outside Ava’s classroom.
“Sorry, traffic was a nightmare,” I lie, faking a smile as guilt slowly eats away at my stomach. Jacob doesn’t respond. He just stands there, his stare cold as ice.
Ava’s teacher, Mrs. Allen, opens the door. “Ava’s parents, right? Come in.”
We step inside the room. Colorful artwork lines the walls, science projects fill the counters, and homework notes are scribbled across the chalkboard. Instantly, it pulls me back to my childhood. When I’d walk into each classroom as the new girl, never making friends. Until Izzy.
Jacob sits next to me, his knee bouncing, as Mrs. Allen begins.
“Your daughter is doing fantastic. She’s always eager to help her classmates, and is a very bright, energetic girl.”
I smile through the meeting, but all I can think about is him. His eyes. The way he really looked at me like he thinks I’m enough. Me? Jenna Jinx. Not a disaster. Not a disappointment.
His voice echoes… You’re not mine. God, how I wish I was.
“Jenna?” Jacob calls out, pulling me back.
I blink, realizing the room is quiet and all eyes are on me. “Sorry, what?” I fumble with my purse.
“She said Ava’s doing great,” Jacob mutters, his tone dripping with his usual frustration.
Mrs. Allen slides a small stack of Ava’s papers across the table. I reach for them, but they slip through my fingers and scatter on the floor.
“Shit! I’m so sorry!” Heat flushes my cheeks as I bend down to grab them.
“Jesus, Jinx,” Jacob shouts, his eyes glued on me. “Just sit still.”
The weight of his impatience, the growing strain between us, and the massive guilt I carry press down on me more each day.
I glance up, catching Mrs. Allen quietly watching us, or maybe judging us. Why does it feel like I’m wearing a scarlet letter on my dress, and everyone knows I almost had sex with my contractor today?
“Thank you,” I mutter awkwardly.
Jacob shakes her hand and strides out of the room without waiting for me. A few parents glance our way, as I rush to catch up.
In the car, we drive in silence for the first half of the ride. Looking out the window, I have this urge to escape. To shut down like I always do.
But then, something inside me chooses to fight.
“How dare you raise your voice at me,” I snap. “Like I’m a child in front of our daughter’s teacher? It was embarrassing. I’m sorry I was late. I’m sorry I dropped more shit. I’m sorry I burned dinner. I’m sorry I’m not the wife you imagined—”
“Jenna, stop.” Jacob cuts in. “You're overreacting and twisting my words. I never said you were a bad wife.” His voice dips lower. “I love you, Jenna Jinx. The good and the bad… no matter how much bad or hard it can be sometimes.”
“How much bad is there?” My chest clenches, and I’m ready to end this awful conversation.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I suck with my words.” His expression softens, but it’s too late. I’m already hurt. “I just meant no one's perfect. And I love you.”
“Well, it hasn’t felt like that lately,” I say, exhausted. “Your tone. Your body language. They tell me something else. What do you even like about me? Not love. But like.”
Jacob grips the wheel tighter. “Are you trying to start a fight? Are you not happy? With us? With me?”
He hesitates, and for a second, he lets me in. “You think I don’t see how distant you’ve been? How much I’m losing you? I’m trying. But I don’t know if it’s enough.”
A lump swells in my throat. “I hate fighting. And I love our family… and you.” But even as I say it, the words feel hollow. Because I’m a filthy, lying, cheating, confused shitshow that has no idea what the hell I’m doing.
The car slows, pulling up to an unfamiliar warehouse.
He knows. He brought me here to kill me.
“Where are we?” I ask, my voice shaky.
Jacob smiles that rare, boyish smile that still has the power to melt me. “It’s for you. If you want it.”
“For me?” My brows knit together. Then it hits me. “No. You didn’t.”
“I did.” His voice is full of warmth. “You hate your job and you’ve been dreaming about starting your own business for years. Even if it doesn’t always show, I see you, Jenna.”
My heart skips a beat. The words start sinking in as I think about all the possibilities.
“I see that you’re not happy. I see how you light up when you talk about all your ideas. And how frustrated you get when Shantel ignores them at work. Maybe this place will help.”
A mix of emotions rushes through me. It’s so thoughtful. But I’m afraid of failing. Of disappointing him. If I do this, it has to be on my terms, not with his money. And not when I don’t deserve anything from him anymore.
“I can’t,” I say as I shake my head. “I’m not ready. I still have so much to learn. And I’m not taking your money for something I might fail at.”
His brow furrows. “What are you scared of?”
“I’m not. Just being realistic.” I sigh. “Do you know how many businesses like this tank after the first year?”
“Fine, I get it,” he says, but his eyes show disappointment. “If you change your mind, my uncle said he’ll hold off on putting it back on the market for thirty days. The deposit’s fully refundable.”
His grand gestures give me emotional whiplash. One minute, he’s pulling away. The next, he’s reeling me back in—dangling a dream and a brand-new office space.
But when he takes my hand, I feel something I haven’t felt in a long time… love.
“You’ve been ready for months, Jenna.” His touch makes my pulse race. “The only thing stopping you is you.”
He’s right. I’ve worked my ass off. I’ve spent so many late nights learning from the best. Maybe it is time to do it on my own. I lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you. Really. I appreciate this more than you know. But I need to start smaller.”
His thumb brushes my skin with soft strokes. “Timing is everything, I guess,” he says with a warm smile, just as his phone buzzes.
I grin, nodding for him to take it. “Go ahead, answer.”
As Jacob gets distracted with a work call, I start typing.
Jenna: If your sister still wants me, I’d love to plan her wedding.
A reply comes almost instantly.
Dylan: She does. And so do I.
My heart pounds. Not from fear, or from how Dylan makes me feel. But from anticipation. And maybe even hope.
I’m back on the bridge. The air is thick and heavy. Birds cry out, circling overhead. Shadows creeping closer. A figure approaches. The face hidden behind a mask.
Drip. Drip. Blood?
Maybe water? I can’t tell.
Hands clamp around my throat.
Pressure. Tightening. The world blurs at the edges.
My lungs seize, my body fights—
Then silence.
Another damn nightmare. But this time, it’s sharper. More real.
Jacob’s leg and arm drape over me—the only time I feel a flicker of connection. I rub my face, trying to erase the images. They’re not real, I tell myself. They can’t be.
I turn to Jacob. He’s sleeping or pretending to, so we don’t have to talk about it.
The last time I begged him to talk about my dreams, it turned into an argument.
“I’m not doing this again, Jenna. Just drop it,” he said, his voice bitter.
Anger, sadness, maybe guilt, flashed across his face.
I couldn't tell. And it kills me that he won’t let me in.
That it feels like my husband has secrets.
Skeletons. Something he’s not telling me.
Carefully, I slide out from under his hold and reach for my journal, hidden behind the drawer. Picking up where I left off, I escape in my writing.
Life feels like a constant war between right and wrong, good and bad.
And I’m stuck floating somewhere in the messy in-between.
I know I shouldn’t feel this way about Dylan, but if my feelings come from a good place in my heart, does that still make me bad?
Or am I just repeating the same patterns, chasing something I’ll never find?
Or worse, what if I’ve been searching for something that was never there to begin with?
What if the problem isn’t them? What if it’s me?
Dylan can’t give me everything I need, and neither can Jacob. It’s like I’ve convinced myself I’m never enough. Not enough for Dylan to fight for me. Not enough for Jacob to let me in. Not enough for my father to stay. When do I become enough?