29. Chapter 29 New Year, Same Nightmares
Jenna: December
We’re parked at our usual spot again, the bridge stretching in front of us, watching like a silent witness.
This small corner of the world has become our escape, a place where we can pretend nothing else exists, even just for a while.
But these stolen moments are never enough.
They leave me aching, guilt gnawing deeper each time.
It’s getting harder to be with him like this, knowing he isn’t mine.
Knowing I only get scraps of time, and one wrong move could blow up everything.
Then seeing him with my girls—so natural with them, so easy—it messed with my mind.
I tasted the life I could have with him. And God, I wish that life was mine.
We sit in silence, holding sandwiches neither of us touches. Dylan’s hand rests over the steering wheel.
“You’re quiet,” he finally says.
I force a smile. “Sorry. I was… thinking.”
“About what?”
I hesitate, staring out over the bridge. “About this.” I motion between us. “About what you said about sneaking around.” My voice cracks. “I hate it too. Don’t you want more?”
“More?” He exhales, his brows furrowed. “Jenna, I want everything. I want to take you out on a real date in public. Wake up next to you after being with you all night long. Hear your voice whenever the hell I feel like it without hiding.” He drags a hand over his face, his voice rough.
“But I don’t know how to have that. How to be a man you're worthy of.”
I shake my head. “I know you don’t. I don’t think you even know what you want,” I mutter low. “But I can’t keep living in this in-between.”
Frustration flickers across his face. “You think I don’t want you?
” he says, his jaw tightening. “Jenna, I hate this. I hate that I have to share you with another man who doesn’t deserve you.
I hate that, for the first time, I want to try, really try to have something real. And I can’t do it with you.”
I can feel the cracks spreading between us. “I can’t end my marriage,” I choke out. “For a man still trying to test out if he can be in a committed relationship.”
Dylan's eyes flash to mine, then flicker away. “I never asked you to,” he mutters. “I’d never ask you to break your family apart. I could never be the reason for that.”
Silence stretches slowly and painfully.
“Then what are we doing, Dylan?” My voice breaks.
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to. Tears well in my eyes, but I won’t let them fall.
“We should get back to work,” I say, burying my feelings. “Although we can’t go on like this. We need to figure out what happens next. Soon.”
I kiss him on the cheek and let him sit with that. Then I jump into my car and head back.
New Year’s is tomorrow, and I hate this holiday. Who the hell decided celebrating another lap around the sun was a good idea? Another excuse for people to scribble down goals they’ll forget by February. And willingly stay up until midnight? Not me.
I refuse to set resolutions. No list equals no failure. It’s foolproof. But as much as I try to convince myself it doesn’t matter, there’s a weight in my chest. The thought of another year coming feels heavy.
The shower turns cold as my thoughts play out, but I don’t move. I close my eyes and let it sting my skin, hoping it numbs the constant ache. Tears begin to slip out, blending with the water as it streams down my face. I press my forehead to the tile, grasping at anything. At nothing.
God, I need your help. Even if I don’t know what I believe anymore. But I need to believe in something, even if it’s just that someone out there is listening.
I whisper, tilting my head up like He can see me. Like maybe He’s listening.
I know I only come to you when I’m a mess, but I’m here again. Begging. How am I still stuck in the same place as last year? And the year before that? When does it stop being this hard?
My gut twists as I slide down the wall, and I curl into myself on the freezing tile floor.
The sobs pouring out of me. When did something as natural as breathing become this difficult?
I’m supposed to have it all figured out by now.
To be healed. Yet I’m still that scared, lost seventeen-year-old girl. Still pretending everything’s okay.
Faces blur through my mind—Jacob, Dylan, then my daughters—those innocent smiles that deserve so much more than this.
And my dad. My dead dad. The words still feel foreign.
I don’t even know what I feel. Grief? Emptiness?
Anger? I'm angry at myself. Angry at my fear.
At this endless cycle of waiting and holding onto so many damn things, never doing anything about them.
The door handle jiggles, snapping me out of it. “Mommy, mommy. Why’s the door locked? I wanna show you my Roblox character.” Lily’s voice whines from outside.
I jump out of the shower, blinking away the tears, and grab a towel. “Two minutes, sweetie! Mommy’s just drying off.”
My phone starts ringing.
Then Jacob yells from downstairs, “Jinx, where’s my wallet?”
I take in a deep breath. No time to cry. No time to fall apart. Not as a mom. Not as a wife.
I answer the call because right now, I need an escape. Any escape.
“Hey, Shantel wants to know if you picked up the champagne centerpieces. She’s being her usual charming self,” Izzy teases.
“Yeah, I got them. I’ll be at work soon.” My voice is flat, emotionless.
There’s a pause. “You okay? You’ve been distant these last few weeks. You know you can talk to me, right?”
A part of me wants to spill everything. But I can’t. Not completely.
“Honestly? Not really. New Year’s has me all kinds of screwed up. I feel lost. Angry. Scared. When do I stop feeling this way and just… do what I need to be happy?”
Izzy’s voice softens. “Are we talking about my brother, your business, or both?”
“Both,” I admit. “It’s like I’m waiting for rock bottom or a miracle, and nothing happens. I just stay stuck.”
Izzy sighs. “Maybe it’s time to rip off your diapers, put on some big girl panties, and stop crapping on yourself and your dreams. Sure, the business might crash and burn faster than my last relationship. But what if it doesn’t? What if it’s successful?”
She pauses, and I hear a guy’s voice in the background. “Sorry.” She comes back on the line. “Donald’s getting impatient. But he’s not important. Ask yourself, what scares you more? Standing still forever or moving in the wrong direction?”
I laugh bitterly. “That seems like a no-brainer. Standing still scares me more.”
“Then move,” Izzy says. “Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s wrong. Just move. Start believing in something bigger than yourself. Believe that even if you make the wrong decision, it’ll lead you wherever you’re supposed to be.”
“Sounds great in theory. But my brain won’t let me. It’s like I’m wired to stay frozen. How do I move, Izzy? Tell me how.”
“Although you make a really pretty ice statue, maybe that’s the problem,” she mutters. “You’ve been stuck in your head forever. When’s the last time you listened to what your body has to say?”
“My body?” I ask, confused.
“Yeah. You’ve been doing all that meditating monk stuff, right? Start there. Get quiet. See what your body’s actually trying to tell you.”
I groan, tugging my shirt on. “The last time I tried meditating, my brain wouldn’t shut up for ten minutes.”
Izzy laughs. “Try again. What do you have to lose? Anyway, gotta go. Donald wants breakfast in bed, and lucky for me, I don’t have to cook it, if you know what I mean. Love ya. See you at work.”
Right. Work. Unbearable now without Dylan. Without the distraction of renovations. The hours drag, the office feels colder, and I can’t seem to find a single reason to stay anymore.
After everyone’s gone to bed, I retreat to my little corner of hope, working on my business.
I’ve spent hours designing my website, making business cards, and planning social media posts.
It’s a distraction I can control. But most nights, even as I work, my thoughts spin out.
The arguments replay. The same justification loop.
The same impossible questions claw at me.
There’s Jacob. A steady provider. A loving father.
He gave me the stability I craved growing up, the safety I thought I needed.
But our marriage is a house with a crumbling foundation.
Still standing, but the warmth is gone. There’s no fire, no passion.
And yet, it’s a life we’ve built together. A life our daughters depend on.
Then there’s Dylan. He sees me. Not as a mother or a wife, but as me.
Jenna. A woman with dreams, desires, needs of her own.
With him, I can stop pretending. But he isn’t safe.
He can't commit. Can't even give me all of himself. He’s more chaos, more unknowns. Maybe that’s exactly why I can’t stay away.
But is it enough to throw away a life I’ve worked so hard to build?
To shatter my children’s sense of security and risk everything for a love that might not last?
I roll over in bed, staring at the empty space beside me. Jacob’s downstairs, probably dozing off in front of the TV. He’s a good man. But I’m beginning to wonder if “good enough” is a lie I’ve told myself to keep everything together.
And I know I deserve happiness, but at what cost? How many lives will I destroy chasing something I’m not even sure exists? The worst part is I don’t know how to stop. No matter what I choose, someone will get hurt.
Shit. I think my nightmares are starting to feel better than the chaos I’ve created in real life.