Chapter Nine
Logan
The keys jingle at the front door.
I immediately pretend to be busy.
Not that I’m not actually working, I am, but the second I hear the door open, my eyes keep drifting up from the reports spread across the kitchen table.
Jess steps inside, hanging her coat by the door.
She pauses when she notices me, then glances at the phone sitting on the counter.
“Huh,” she says. “I thought I left it at Simone’s.”
Without looking up, I mutter, “Darren dropped it off.”
“Oh.” She lets out a nervous little laugh. “Did he join the hate-Jess club?”
I don’t answer.
I don’t bother assuring her that Darren definitely does not hate her. In fact, he’s been annoyingly levelheaded about the whole thing.
Which, considering his own whorish past, isn’t exactly shocking.
Still doesn’t mean I want to talk about it.
Jess shifts awkwardly near the doorway like she’s waiting for me to say something else.
I don’t.
Awkward silence stretches until she clears her throat. “So… you’re working.”
“Yeah,” I say flatly, flipping a page.
She nods. “Okay.”
Another long pause. It’s amazing how fast a partnership can flip.
I can feel her eyes on me, but I keep mine on the report in front of me, pretending the numbers actually matter.
Finally, she says, “I, uh… went out for a bit.”
“Figured,” I reply.
“Just to get some air,” she adds.
“Great.”
Her shoulders stiffen.
“I also talked to someone,” she says carefully.
That makes me look up.
“Someone,” I repeat.
She nods. “A therapist.”
Something in my chest loosens, but I don’t let it show.
“Good for you,” I say, forcing my voice to stay neutral.
“It was helpful,” she continues. “I think.”
I shrug. “Glad you had a nice day.”
Her jaw tightens.
“Logan, I-” she starts softly.
I lift my pen without looking at her. “Gotta work.”
She nods. “Right.” Then, hesitantly, “I’m guessing you showing me the ropes is out.”
Call me a masochist. Or an idiot.
“Why?” I ask. “You wanna spend the day relaxing?”
“No.” She shakes her head quickly. “I just thought-”
I grab the nearest stack of reports and slam them onto the counter.
“You can handle these, right?”
She blinks at the pile. “Yes. Of course.” A pause. “Thanks for-”
I’m already walking back to my chair.
Jess stands there awkwardly for a second, like she’s waiting for me to say something else.
I don’t.
Finally, she gathers the reports and moves to the sofa.
We don’t have a dedicated office at home. Never needed one. Working from the kitchen table used to make sense. Used to feel comfortable.
Now I hate it.
I hate how close she is, hate that I can hear every page she turns. I even hate the smell her perfume drifting across the room.
The only sound in the house is the quiet clicking of my keyboard and the occasional rustle of paper from her side.
It feels like we’re strangers forced to share a waiting room.
Once I’m done returning the last of the pending emails, I lean back in my chair and finally let myself look at her.
From here I can only see the back of her head, the soft fall of her hair over her shoulders, the way she sits slightly hunched over the reports. Even from across the room I can see the tension in her body. The stiffness in the way she moves.
It’s weird.
A part of me wants to get up, walk over, and ask if she’s okay.
I almost do it on instinct.
Then I remember why she’s not okay. And why it isn’t my job to fix that anymore.
Still… ten years. Ten years of loving this woman.
You don’t just flip a switch on that.
I wish you could. I wish anger stayed pure. At least my anger. But it doesn’t.
I don’t know how to explain it. Dr. Brett wanted to talk about my childhood after he diagnosed me as a conflict avoider, and… I didn’t want that. So I just never went back.
How was I supposed to know this would happen? The Jess I loved would’ve never let another man-
Shaking my head, I cut the thought off and focus on the red pen in my hand.
As the business grew, I should’ve hired more managers so I could golf like the other CEOs I know instead of drowning in endless grunt work.
Like an idiot, I didn’t.
Standing up, I walk to the back door and stare out at Bell and Ty sprawled in the afternoon sun. They look completely unbothered, living their best dog lives.
Everyone keeps talking about the storm coming, but so far the weather’s been clear. Not a single dark cloud in the sky.
I’ve lived in Texas long enough to know how fast that can change.
One calm night. Then chaos.
For a second I consider taking Dad up on his offer to stay at his place next week. Get some distance. Some space to think.
But I don’t wanna leave the boys. And they’ve been excited about this unexpected holiday at home.
According to Hayley, I can’t ask Jess to leave either.
And no, Hayley isn’t like that. For one, she’s in her sixties. And yes, she did hit on me, which was just plain awkward. The woman’s a retired ADA who’s been through three divorces of her own. Let’s just say she’s… cynical.
She told me that even though courts try to be unbiased these days, moms, especially stay-at-home moms, still get primary custody nine times out of ten.
That scared the hell out of me.
Add in Manuel’s stupid advice, and yeah, I reacted.
I can admit that now.
Indirectly threatening Jess with taking the kids was a dick move. Even if, in the moment, it felt like the only weapon I had.
“What time is your dad bringing the boys back?” Jess asks.
I bite my tongue to keep from jumping. “He told me to text him.”
In the glass of the back door, I see her reflection nod.
I clear my throat. “About next week… I know we have to hash things out. But I’m not ready.” I keep my eyes on the yard instead of her. “So, I need you to stay away from me.”
Her reflection goes still.
“We’ll pretend in front of the kids,” I continue. “But I need space.”
I turn around just in time to catch her wiping at her eyes.
It guts me. But I need this.
“Alright?” I ask.
She nods, sniffling. “Yeah.”
There’s a pause, then she asks quietly, “What about sleeping?”
I shrug. “We don’t need to talk to sleep.”
Another small nod.
“I am sorry,” she whispers.
I don’t answer.
I walk over to where my phone is charging and pick it up. “I’ll text Dad.”
Jess
I give Logan what he wants.
For the next few days, we exist in the same house like two planets forced into the same orbit, close enough to feel the gravity, careful not to collide.
We talk, technically.
About feeding the dogs. About what the kids need, what time to start dinner.
Mundane things. Necessary things.
What we don’t talk about is the one thing taking up all the space in the room.
The elephant in our marriage.
Every minute I’m on pins and needles, waiting. Watching him. Wondering if he’s coordinating with a lawyer. If he’s making plans, figuring out the best timeline to serve me divorce papers.
The snow came down hard Monday morning, just like the forecasts promised.
It’s Wednesday now.
We’ve been cooped up in this house together since Sunday.
Trapped.
The kids, of course, think it’s the best week of their lives. No school, no schedules, just endless hours at home with both parents. They run around the house like it’s some magical winter vacation instead of a pressure cooker.
They’ve dressed Bell and Ty in their old sweaters. Built pillow forts in the living room. Invented ridiculous games that only make sense to them.
Right now, they’re arguing over which movie to watch while Logan sits on the couch pretending to referee.
He looks relaxed. Calm. Like this is just another normal Wednesday.
It isn’t.
Not for me.
He had some mystery meeting this morning. Told me he’d be unavailable for an hour and then locked himself in our bedroom.
I know it wasn’t a business call because I already called Mackie to ask.
Just thinking about it makes my leg start to twitch.
I press my hand down hard on my knee to stop it.
It doesn’t help.
If anything, it gets worse.
My foot starts bouncing under the kitchen table. My fingers feel cold and shaky. I try to focus on the kids’ voices, River insisting on cartoons, Myles arguing for a superhero movie, but the sound blurs together into one loud, overwhelming hum.
Unavailable for an hour.
If it was anything innocent, he would’ve told me. But he didn’t. He ignored me when I asked.
That can only mean one thing.
He’s going forward with the divorce.
The request for space was just a ploy to get his ducks in order. Like he said, he won’t be a weekend dad.
He’s going to take the kids from me.
And when they find out why our marriage ended, they’ll hate me anyway.
Everyone already does. Simone. Darren. His parents.
He’s going to leave me and take everything.
My chest feels tight, like someone wrapped a band around my ribs and keeps pulling it tighter.
Breathe, Jess.
I try to inhale slowly.
It doesn’t work.
Instead, my breathing goes shallow and fast. Like I can’t get enough air no matter how hard I try.
Oh God.
Not now.
My hands start tingling.
I stare at the wall, trying to ground myself. I haven’t felt this tightness in a long time.
My heart slams against my chest.
I’m going to lose everything.
The room suddenly feels like it’s on fire.
“Jess?”
Logan’s voice cuts through the noise in my head.
I turn toward him. He’s watching me from the couch, concern on his face.
Fake concern, my mind snaps.
He doesn’t care.
“You okay?” he asks.
I don’t answer.
I just walk to the front door and start pulling on my boots, grabbing my coat from the hanger.
“Jess, where are you going?”
I ignore him, struggling to get my shaking hands into the sleeves.
“Jess,” he says, louder now, coming closer. “It’s freezing out there. Where the fuck are you going?”
“I just need air,” I manage.
Before he can say anything else, I slip out the front door and let the cold swallow me whole.