40. Chapter 40 Rock Bottom
Jenna: September
It’s been over a month since the accident, but somehow, I’m still trapped in limbo. Izzy calls it Stuck Street. I call it purgatory. Because even though time has passed, every time I close my eyes, I’m right back in that cold, sterile room. Back with Jacob. Back with the lies and the confusion.
I thought the accident would be the push I needed. That it would make things clear. That I’d stop making excuses and finally make a damn choice.
But it hasn’t. I’m still here.
Jacob’s voice rings in my ears. Who are you talking about?
I still remember the way he looked at me like he knew. I remember the bullshit story I told—that it was the masked man from my nightmares. But he didn’t believe me. I saw it in his eyes. Yet, he didn’t push. He just watched me, waiting for me to break first.
And I watched him telling his own lies. He said the flashes weren't real. That my concussion was messing with my head and I was overthinking.
But I guess we all have skeletons, demons, secrets, whatever you wanna call it if it makes it easier to carry. Some eventually claw their way out. Others stay hidden. And some… you pretend not to see, even when they’re staring you straight in the face.
Something’s different, though. Yes, we’re still separated.
Living in two homes. Yes, we're still in counseling. Jacob even started therapy on his own. Yes, I’m still torn between two worlds.
But the voice in my head? The one I’ve silenced for years?
It won’t shut up anymore. It’s only getting louder.
Screaming at me to leave him. To finally do something.
To stop living on fucking autopilot, paralyzed by the fear of making the wrong choice.
And it’s not about Dylan. It never was. Even if he’d never walked into my life, I’d still feel this way.
Starving for more. But now, everything is more complicated.
Things with Dylan are just as messed up as my marriage.
We still see each other sometimes. But it’s different.
A quick coffee in his truck. A few texts here and there.
The quiet kind of distance that somehow hurts worse than losing him completely.
And God, it hurts. But maybe time away from each other is necessary.
I understand why he’s pulled back. Nothing’s really changed for me.
Not yet. And he’s not wrong to protect himself.
I still need to sort my shit out. And I can’t keep jumping from one relationship straight into another. Not without knowing who I am on my own.
Jacob stirs behind me as I sit on the edge of the bed, my journal in my lap. The girls are at my mom’s tonight, and somehow, I ended up staying overnight again.
“What are you doing at two a.m.?” he mutters. “Come back to bed.”
I squeeze my pen. “I’m writing… reading… anything to help with the nightmares.”
He exhales slowly. “Still?”
I glance at him. The dim light softens his face, making him look younger, like when I first married him.
“Since the accident… they’ve been different,” I whisper. “Not as scary, but… clearer. Like my subconscious is trying to tell me something. You sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”
Jacob stiffens. “Jenna, please. Let it go. None of it was real.” His voice stays eerily calm. “You hit your head. Go to sleep.”
If only it were that easy. Instead, I stay up, reading the words I can write but never say out loud.
I always thought I had to choose between Jacob and Dylan—that peace meant making a decision. But it’s about choosing me. Jacob gave me safety. Dylan gave me passion. But neither of them gave me the freedom I’ve been craving. And maybe that’s what I’ve been chasing.
I spent way too many years trying to fit myself into the imaginary framework of my marriage. Trying to squeeze a square peg into a round hole. But the pieces don’t fit. Maybe they never really did.
What if I was never meant to find someone to complete me? What if I was meant to complete myself. For years, I let fear keep me in place. Fear of being alone. Fear of not knowing who I am without someone to define me.
But today, I realized I don’t need all the answers. I just have to move, one step at a time. Even if I don’t know where I’m going, even if I’m terrified. Because staying still is no longer an option.
The next morning, I meet Izzy for coffee and my usual sweet tea across from work.
“Alright,” she says, sinking into her chair. “Spill it. What’s eating you? We already know who’s not eating me anymore. But let’s not talk about Donald.”
I exhale, rubbing my temples. “I can’t stop going in circles. I know I’m unhappy. I know your brother’s not a bad guy, and he loves me in his own way, and yet…”
“And yet, you’re still thinking about leaving him. Doesn’t that tell you something?” she finishes for me.
My stomach knots. “It tells me I’m a terrible person. Selfish for even thinking about breaking up our family and hurting my kids.”
“Your kids need a happy mom,” she counters. “Aren’t you tired of going in circles on the same damn ride?”
I blink back tears. “I’m exhausted. Just because I haven’t gotten off, doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”
Izzy sighs, taking a sip of her coffee. “Yeah, well, holding on is harder than letting go. Don’t waste another ten years being unhappy, wondering what if.
And if you’re waiting for Jacob to turn into a massive jerk so you feel justified in leaving, maybe your answer is already staring you in the face. ”
I rub my face. “I’m not sure I can do it.”
“Maybe you won’t have to,” she says, pausing for a second. “Judy said there’s a woman at Jacob’s work who’s been trying to get in with him since she found out about the separation.”
The words settle over me like a test I didn’t know I was taking. I wait for jealousy, anger—something. But nothing comes.
“I know I can’t expect him to stay alone forever. And after everything I’ve done, I probably don’t have the right to feel this way. But hearing about Jacob with other women? Not sure I’m ready for that. Or strong enough to let him go.”
She squeezes my hand. “You are stronger than you think. You’ve already done the hardest part and put yourself back together. Now, you need to let go of all the shit that’s no longer meant for you.”
“I have been trying to work on myself in therapy,” I say, sucking in a deep breath. “Some days feel like progress. Other days I have no clue what I’m doing.”
“Join the club. I still can’t even commit to one hair color, let alone one man.” She grins. “I love you. But I’m done watching you torture yourself. What does your gut say? Your heart? Your body? Because your head is programmed to lie to you, to keep you safe in your familiar world.”
She leans back, twirling a strand of her newly red-dyed hair. “Okay, time’s up. I’ll bill you later. My next client, Armando, requires my full attention… in sixty-four different ways.”
I snort, the tension breaking. “Oh, Armando, pull on my pretty blonde curls,” I tease in a sultry voice. “I love eating men and spitting them out for breakfast.”
Izzy glares. “Focus, Jinx. Don’t change the subject. Go home. Have the hard conversation. And don’t even think about calling me until it’s done.”
“All heart and guts. No mind. Easy peasy,” I mutter, as she struts off.
I stare at my half-empty tea.
Hey, God, how about a sign? I know I haven’t exactly been consistent. But if you’ve been trying to get through to me, I’m listening now. I know You didn’t give me a near-death experience for nothing.
Juggling grocery bags, I dig through my purse for keys in the middle of the parking lot.
“Jenna? Is that you?”
The voice freezes me in place. My chest clenches as I turn to see him. Gray streaks in his hair, heavy eyes, but recognition creeps in. My brain struggles to piece together the face in front of me with the name of the boy who hung out with Ryan every weekend.
It can’t be him.
He flashes a smile. “Wow, Jenna. What’s it been? Twenty years?”
I force a polite smile back. “Yeah… something like that. How’ve you been?”
“Good. Married. Baby on the way. Not the same guy you knew.” He drops his gaze. “How about you?”
I hesitate. “Married with two daughters.” It sounds more like a question than a statement.
“Crazy how time flies?” He grins.
My chest clenches at the thought. That nagging sense of time slipping away, of life moving forward while I’m frozen, barely holding it together. I’m not sure what else to say. The next words just come out.
“Do you still keep in touch with Ryan?” Saying his name reopens old wounds.
“You don’t know?” His voice drops, thick with something dark.
“Know what?” My stomach twists.
He clears his throat, eyes searching mine. “Ryan… he’s gone. Has been for a while. Died at twenty-four.”
The parking lot disappears. The noise, the colors, the smell of the exhaust fades into nothing.
“Twenty-four?” The words feel like they belong to someone else’s story. That’s the age we broke up. The age he vanished into thin air.
A hollow ache swells in my chest. “What… what happened?”
He sighs, his expression clouded with grief. “Drugs. Pills, maybe. It was fast.”
The words smash through the fragile walls I’ve spent years building. Memories erupt—his laughter, the endless fights, the manipulation, the empty apologies.
And Jacob… swooping in to save me. From what? Ryan? Myself?
I don’t remember saying goodbye. I don’t remember getting to my car or how the groceries ended up all over the pavement.
Suddenly, I’m on the curb, rocking back and forth with my knees to my chest. The pain hitting in waves, each one more brutal than the last. I clutch myself tighter, tears blurring my vision.
And the world collapses around me—right here, in front of Trader Joe’s. My throat is raw. Probably from the screams I let out. All these years feeling cursed. I deserved every second. My mind spins frantically, sobs ripping through me as I try to make sense of it.
God. What did I do? What did I do? Is this rock bottom?