Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
JUDE
The door slams shut behind me, but the sound feels hollow. Empty. Just like the rest of this damn place. I drop my keys onto the counter and toe out of my shoes, neatly arranging them out of the way. Though it hardly matters. No one’s here to care. No one’s been here for weeks. The townhouse is dark and silent, the same as it’s been since Abbey left.
Since I was too much of a coward to fight for her. To beg her to stay.
I scrub a hand over my face, trying to shake off the exhaustion that clings to me, but it’s no use. Every time I step inside this place, it’s like walking into a tomb.
I glance around the living area, my eyes lingering on the little reminders of her. The mug she used to drink her coffee. The blanket she draped over the arm of the couch. Hell, even her familiar scent lingers in every corner.
She should be here.
But she’s not.
It’s my own damn fault.
I head toward the refrigerator and open it, staring blankly at its contents — a few beers and takeout containers. I’m not hungry. Not really. I’m merely going through the motions.
Eat. Work. Sleep. Repeat.
That’s how I’ve been surviving since Abbey walked out of my life.
Hell, it’s how I survived before her, too.
Shut everyone out. Stop caring. Focus on the brewery.
It’s what worked after Krista and I split.
I thought it would work this time, too.
But it hasn’t.
The longer Abbey’s gone, the harder it’s become to fill that void.
Not work.
Not my routine.
Not even pretending like I don’t care.
Because I do care. More than I thought possible.
Deciding on a liquid dinner, much like I have every night since I let Abbey slip away, I grab a beer and twist off the cap, letting it clatter to the floor as I take a long swig. The alcohol does little to ease the ache gnawing at my chest.
Without thinking, I start climbing the stairs, my feet carrying me to the one room I’ve avoided for years.
The nursery.
It’s the last piece of a life I never got to have, the life I’d planned with Krista before everything fell apart. Before the loss. The heartbreak. The silence.
Before she walked out and never came back.
My hand hovers over the doorknob, and I hesitate, my breath catching in my throat. This is the last thing I need right now, but something pulls me forward, a force I can’t explain. Maybe I’m tired of running from it. Maybe I’m just punishing myself.
I open the door, and the air inside feels stale, untouched by human presence for too long. The crib, the rocking chair, the changing table — they’re all still here, just as I left them. Waiting.
But for what? A baby that never came? A future that never existed?
I take another swig of beer, my hand shaking as I look around the room. Memories flood back — nights spent painting the walls, putting together furniture, dreaming of the life we’d have. This room was once filled with so much hope. Now it’s just an empty reminder of everything I lost.
A surge of anger rises inside me, hot and uncontrollable, and I release a strangled roar that reverberates around me. In my fury, I hurl my beer against the wall, the glass shattering on impact. But it’s not enough to satisfy me. It’s never enough.
I grab the rocking chair and slam it against the floor with all my might, causing it to splinter and crack beneath the force. The sound of wood breaking adds to the chaos in the room, but it does nothing to quiet the rage tearing through me. My heartbeat thrums in my ears as I move to the crib next, yanking at the frame until it gives way. Piece by piece, I tear it apart, like I can destroy the pain if I obliterate everything attached to it.
But even as I rip apart all the reminders of the life I once imagined, I’m not satisfied. I form my hands into fists, punching the remnants of the furniture with all the heartache, grief, and despair I possess.
I’m about to throw the elephant lamp against the wall when I hear footsteps behind me, approaching rapidly.
“ Jude ! What the fuck ?!”
Before I can take out my resentment on the innocent lamp, a pair of arms wraps around me from behind, locking me in place.
“Calm down, Jude.” Beckham’s voice is filled with alarm and disbelief at the scene before him.
“ Get off me !” I struggle against his hold, trying to break free. But I’m no match for my older brother’s strength, as much as I like to think I can take him.
“Your hands are fucked,” he retorts sternly. “If you want to be able to keep making the beer I know you love, you need to take a deep breath and relax.”
I look down at my hands for the first time, noticing the blood marring them. They should hurt, but I feel nothing other than the debilitating pain that’s been present for too long now.
Closing my eyes, I do as he asks and suck in a deep breath, trying to calm the raging storm within me.
“It fucking hurts,” I admit in a pained voice.
“I know.”
Beckham helps guide me down to the floor, and I lean against the wall for support, physically and emotionally drained.
“Well, maybe I don’t know exactly how much,” he continues, “but I know how painful it is to be stuck in the past. Some days…,” he trails off, shaking his head. “Some days, it felt like it would fucking suffocate me.”
My chest heaves as I suck in a shuttering breath. I should hate that I’m having this complete breakdown in front of him. But if there’s anyone I can be myself around, it’s my brothers. My family.
A nagging voice in my head reminds me I was able to be myself around Abbey, too, but I quickly silence it. Thinking about Abbey is how I got here in the first place. Right now, all I want is to forget her and move on with my life.
But I have a feeling I won’t be able to.
“Want to talk about it?” Beckham asks as Finn rushes into the room, carrying the first-aid kit he always keeps in his truck, as well as a bowl of water, and three beers.
Handing the bottles to Beckham, he squats down in front of me, attempting to clean all the cuts and scratches.
“Nothing to talk about. I’m doing what I should have done a long time ago. Getting rid of all this stuff.” I try to wave my hand at the destruction surrounding me, but Finn stops me so he can continue tending to my injuries.
I suppose that’s the good thing about having a first responder in the family. And if it’s really bad, there’s also a doctor.
“When most people move furniture, they don’t attempt to shatter it into pieces first,” Finn jokes, cutting through the tension.
“I may have gotten a little carried away,” I admit, taking the beer from Beckham’s outstretched hand and swallowing a large gulp.
“A little?” Finn scoffs.
“This isn’t about the nursery,” Beckham comments quietly. “It’s about Abbey.”
“Don’t,” I grit out, taking another long sip of beer to dull the throbbing ache consuming me. And it has nothing to do with the sting from the tweezers Finn’s using to dig out a few splinters.
“You let her go, Jude,” Beckham continues, not backing down despite my request he do so. “Just like you let Krista go.”
“I didn’t let Krista go,” I snap, my voice harsh. “She left me.”
“Did you give her a choice?” he counters. “After losing the baby, you checked out. Pushed her away. Pushed everyone away. All so you wouldn’t have to feel that pain anymore. She left because you didn’t give her a reason to stay. Just like you didn’t give Abbey a reason to stay.”
“I didn’t want to hold her back. Didn’t want to be her reason for staying.”
Finn skillfully removes yet another splinter from my knuckles. “You were that reason, whether you wanted to be or not,” he remarks softly. “And now you’re going to let her walk out of your life because you’re scared of loving her and losing her. Just like you lost Krista. And your baby.”
“Aspen,” I say through the lump in my throat.
“What’s that?” Beckham asks.
“We were going to name her Aspen.”
Silence settles in the room. In what was supposed to be Aspen’s room. Instead, she never left the hospital.
If I could have traded places with her, I would have. I didn’t realize that kind of love was possible until I laid my eyes on her tiny face, only to have her whisked away to the NICU, where doctors tried everything to save her, to no avail.
My brothers are right. I shut down after that. Thought if I stopped loving, I’d stop hurting.
I never did.
I lost Krista because of it.
Am I willing to lose Abbey, too?
“You think you’re protecting yourself by shutting everyone out,” Finn continues, “but all you’re doing is building a prison for yourself.”
“Let me tell you from experience,” Beckham says with a self-deprecating laugh, “prison is not somewhere you want to be.”
I look at the destruction around me, at the mess I’ve made. Not just here, but with Abbey. With everything.
“You can try to avoid love all you want,” Finn says. “Can even claim you don’t love her, but we know you, Jude. You adore that girl. No amount of refusal will change that.”
“I tried to do that with Haley,” Beckham chimes in, sipping on his beer. “Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but that shit doesn’t work. Are you willing to let Abbey walk away and find someone else, all the while wondering what would have happened if you hadn’t been such a goddamn pussy?” He smirks. “Sound familiar?”
I groan. “You’re an asshole for throwing my own words back in my face.”
“But they worked. Made me realize I wasn’t willing to let Haley go. Now I’m hoping they’ll make you realize you’re not willing to let Abbey go.”
“What you and Krista went through…,” Finn begins, “was fucking awful. I’m not trying to make light of it or say your grief wasn’t warranted. It was. Still is. But ever since Abbey walked into your life, you’ve been different. I’ve seen the old Jude again. The Jude who joked and enjoyed the little things in life. That’s what Abbey did for you, whether you want to admit it or not. She brought you back to life. Made you live again. If you ask me, that’s something worth taking a risk on.”
I don’t answer. Just stare at the wreckage surrounding me, the weight of everything pressing down.
I wish I could tell him he’s wrong, but I can’t. I’ve been running from my pain for so long, I’ve forgotten how to stop. Forgotten how to live.
Maybe it’s time to finally put it all behind me.
Maybe it’s time to stop running and start living again.