Chapter 5
Chapter Five
ALLEY
Sweat drips down my face as I reach for my towel. I blot hard, then chug half my water bottle in one go.
Holy shit. That felt good.
This is my third day in a row doing hot yoga with Cooper. We went Sunday afternoon after our night out and—she was right—I loved it. Hot flow is incredible. I’ve gone with her the last two nights after work, too. She takes a six-thirty class every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.
Tonight’s instructor was my favorite. She kicked my ass, but somehow it was still relaxing—rejuvenating. And Cooper was right, I didn’t think about Jensen. For a full hour, three days in a row now, I haven’t thought about him.
I roll up my mat, welcoming the cooler air that’s close to the ground. Sweat’s still dripping down my forehead when I meet Cooper by the door.
“So, what’d you think of Rebecca?” she asks as we head to the dressing room for a shower.
“She was tough, but I really liked her. Her voice is so soothing. Like, my body is exhausted, but I feel like I just took a nap. How is that even possible?”
Cooper laughs. “Right? She’s my favorite. And I knew you’d love it. This shit’s my therapy. It heals the soul.”
I hang my towel on the hook outside the showers and reach in, turning the knob to cold. No way in hell I want hot water right now. I peel my soaked leggings off, then drop them into a waterproof bag.
“Leo keeps trying to talk me into real therapy,” I say. “He means well, and maybe he’s right, but I’d rather just talk to him. Why go spill my guts to some rando when I can pick his brain for free?” I laugh as Cooper pulls her sports bra over her head, and I follow suit.
“No shit. I could never get into regular therapy either. It’s just not for me. I always left feeling more pissed off than when I walked in—or mad at someone I wasn’t mad at before. Then I found this girl who does hypnotherapy, and I loved it. That, hot yoga, and meditation? Total game changers.”
“I totally get what you mean about therapy. I went when I was younger and I’d leave like, Cool, so now I’ve unpacked my dad’s alcoholism, but somehow I’m mad at Michael, who didn’t even do anything this week.”
We laugh as we step into our showers. The cold water hits my skin, and I stand there, letting it wash away more than just the sweat. I feel good. Like my soul was mended—just a little, but still…
I wish I could tell Jensen about it.
My brows furrow as I scrub my hair, my feel-good moment short-lived.
So much for not thinking about him.
I settle into Cooper’s car, pulling my phone out of my bag to turn the sound back on. My eyes drop to the screen as it lights up. I freeze.
Shit. I have a text.
From Jensen.
My pulse kicks up a notch. A thickness swells in my throat, and my fingers tremble as I stare at it.
Cooper must notice the shift in me because she asks, “What’s wrong? Who is it?”
“Um…” I swallow, hard. “It’s Jensen.” I take a deep breath, trying to figure out what the hell my body is doing. Am I nervous? Scared? Sad? Excited? What is this?
“Shut the fuck up! What does it say?”
“I don’t know.” The words come out raspy. “What do I do?”
Her brows pull together. “Well, you’ve got to read it first to know what to do.”
“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” But I don’t open it. Not yet. “Why am I nervous to read it?” I let out a quiet laugh. “It’s just a text. That’s stupid, right? It’s not even that big of a deal.”
She turns onto my street. The yoga studio’s only a few minutes from Leo and Vivian’s.
“What do you mean it’s not a big deal? Of course it is.
You haven’t spoken to him in months—and he’s your husband.
He’s out of rehab. You filed for divorce.
It was only a matter of time before he reached out. He’s going to try to get you back.”
We pull into the parking garage and stop by the entrance of the condo. She throws the car into park, then turns toward me. “Do you want me to stay while you read it, or would you rather go in and be alone?”
“You think he’s going to try and get me back?” I whisper.
“Without a doubt. Why wouldn’t he? Look at you—you’re a catch, Alley. And if he’s clean now, he’s not about to just let you go. He’d be an idiot if he did.”
Her comment stirs something inside me. And I can’t tell if it’s fear, hope, or the sheer ache of missing someone who completely wrecked me. I knew he’d reach out eventually. But I didn’t actually think about it. And now that it’s here? I’m not ready. Not even close.
I served him papers months ago, and I expected hard conversations then.
But now? After months of silence? After all this time spent trying to move on, trying to bury this—it’s like I’m getting yanked back into something I’ve barely started to accept myself.
I’ve been stuck, waiting for him to finish rehab.
I feel like I’ve only just taken my first few steps forward.
One step forward, two steps back. That’s what it feels like.
And it sucks.
What if it’s everything I’ve wanted to hear? Or worse… what if it’s not? God, why is the one thing I want him to say the one thing he shouldn’t?
It’s like I want him to want me—but only on my terms. Only if it comes with a safety net. A guarantee that he’ll stay clean. That my heart won’t break all over again.
But that’s not how this works, and I know it. So—
“I want you to stay,” I finally say.
My thumb hovers over the screen before I swipe up. My fingers tremble as I tap on the thread with Jensen’s name.
I read it out loud.
Jensen
Hey, Alley. I’m out of rehab. 105 days clean today.
I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, and I can respect that.
But I’ve spent every single day trying to become someone I can be proud of.
Someone who deserves to be by your side.
Deserves to be loved by you. I don’t know where you stand anymore, but if you’re open to it—even a little—I’d really like to see you when I’m home.
I miss you. I love you. More than you’ll ever know.
Cooper blows out a loud, slow breath. “God.”
“Yeah.”
A million thoughts and feelings hit me at once, but I can’t seem to name a single one of them.
Maybe I do need therapy after all.
My eyes wander to Leo’s parking spot. It’s empty, of course. It’s Tuesday—the one night he teaches at the university. He won’t be home for two more hours.
I’ve become way too dependent on him.
“What are you thinking?” Cooper’s voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts.
“A little bit of everything, I guess. Part of me reads this and wants to cry—because I’m proud of him, because I’m happy for him, and because I won’t be there when he gets home.
Another part wants to wrap my arms around him, bury my face in his chest, and fall asleep to the sound of his voice while he tells me everything.
” I pause, blinking quickly. “And then there’s the part of me that’s simmering with anger.
Like, how dare you think you can just text me like this and expect a response like everything’s fine.
That part of me wants to write back fuck you. ”
A nervous laugh escapes me. “And then there’s this small part that doesn’t give a shit and wants to ignore it altogether. Am I crazy?”
A slow smile spreads across her lips. “No. Not at all. I remember feeling the same way when I was thinking of leaving my ex. It’s different, of course. But it makes sense. I think it’s totally normal to feel all of that. Which feeling’s the strongest?”
I try to tap into it. The indifference is there—but the urge to hug him and punch him at the same time is louder.
“Probably the one that wants to hug him,” I admit. “And that’s the part that scares me most.”
“That’s because you’re a good person, Al.
” Her gaze drops to her lap, then lifts back to me.
“I’m probably not the best person to talk to about this stuff.
You’ll get better advice from Leo when he gets home.
” She laughs softly, gesturing toward his empty parking spot.
“All I can tell you is what I’ve learned the hard way—surround yourself with people who love you, keep working on yourself, and the clarity will come.
Just… don’t do anything impulsive. That’s never the right move. ”
“You’re right.” I smile faintly. “Thanks for being here.”
“That’s what friends are for. You want me to pick you up Thursday?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.” I reach for the handle. “Thanks for the ride. Tell Ryan I said hi.” I step outside, closing the door behind me.
I make my way up the stairs to the kitchen. The house is quiet. Vivian’s probably upstairs putting the kids down.
I warm up some leftovers, settle onto a barstool at the counter, and open Instagram. I search Matt’s name and pull up his account. His last post has a bunch of photos from Zermatt, most of them with Jensen.
I’m inwardly kicking myself for the self-torture, but hey, I’m only human.
Every picture of Jensen tells me the same thing.
I still love him.
More than I want to.
And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
I’m staring at the clock on the stove when I finally hear the door open. It’s 9:46 p.m. A minute later, Leo steps into the kitchen.
“Hey, Al,” he says in passing, heading straight for the sink. He pulls some Tupperware from his bag and rinses it before opening the dishwasher. Then he glances over at me with a grin. “Couldn’t find anywhere more comfortable to sit?”
I smile softly, already having Jensen’s text pulled up on my phone. I’ve been sitting here over an hour and a half waiting for him. Pathetic, I know.
I slide my phone toward him across the counter. “Jensen texted me, and I don’t know what to do.”
His brows pull together as he reaches for it, hesitating. He reads the message silently, then sets the phone back down. “It’s a nice message. What are you thinking of saying?”
“So you think I should respond? Even if I have no clue what the hell I’d even say?”
Leo chuckles, rubbing his forehead. “You know, you really need to get yourself a therapist.”
“Why? I have you,” I joke.
He just folds his arms, eyes locking on mine, clearly amused.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper. “Do I ignore him? Respond? What do I say?”
His brows lift, but he stays quiet, waiting me out.
“I just don’t want to mess anything up.”
He smiles, gaze steady, eyes lighting up just slightly. “What exactly do you not want to mess up? Your marriage?”
Ah, shit. Classic Leo. Let me talk myself into a corner while he just sits there waiting for me to realize it.
“I don’t know. My marriage, the divorce, trying to move on, him staying clean. Everything.” I shrug. “Do you think I should respond?”
“You know I can’t tell you what to do.”
“I know. I just… value how you see things. You know me.”
“Do I think you should respond?” He nods slowly. “Yeah. He’s still your husband. You haven’t talked in four months. He just got out of rehab. He’s vulnerable as hell and probably scared shitless waiting to hear back. That text took a lot.”
“I know, but—”
He holds up a hand. “I’m not going to tell you what to say. But if you’re not ready, a simple Hey, I got your message. I need some time to process, but I’m glad you’re doing well. I’ll get back to you soon—that’s enough.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat, eyes dropping to the counter. “Okay. You’re right. Thank you.”
“It’s no problem. I’m always happy to talk it out with you,” he says, resting his palms on the counter.
“But you are capable of handling this on your own, despite what you tell yourself. You just have to ask yourself the right questions. Because it’s going to be a confusing time now that he’s out.
He’s going to keep reaching out, and you need to decide what it is you want. ”
He looks at me with that pointed calm of his, letting it land before adding, “Because if you’re wavering, it’s like being sixteen at a party.”
I stare at him, not following.
“You didn’t plan to drink. But everyone else is, and you’re too afraid to say no, too unsure of where you stand.
So you give in. Next thing you know, you’re wasted and passed out on the floor, wondering how the hell you got there—when all you really wanted was to just hang out and feel like you belonged. ”
My lips curve at his analogy. “Speaking from experience?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He lets out a laugh. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He pushes off the counter, making his way to me. He places a hand on my shoulder, gripping it firmly. “Any other questions?”
“No. I’m good.” I meet his gaze. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure. You’ve got this.” He gives my shoulder a rub. “Good night, love.”
“Night.”
I don’t move for a solid five minutes after Leo heads upstairs. The kitchen hums in the silence, and my head’s spinning. God, I wish I could shut my thoughts off for two seconds.
Finally, I pull up my text with Jensen.
Hi. I’m not sure what to say yet… but I wanted you to know I got your message. I’ll think about it and get back to you soon.
My thumb hovers over the send button while my heart races. It’s silly—I’m not even saying anything worth reading. Just letting him know I saw it. But I’m nervous.
I tap send, then drop my phone on the counter.
A second later, I snatch it back up and type again.
Congratulations on your sobriety. I’m happy for you.
Send.
I want to tell him I miss him. That I love him so much it’s killing me to be apart. That walking out of that apartment was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And that I’ve wanted to ask Matt about him every day. Every. Damn. Day.
But I don’t. Because I can’t.
I have to remember why I left. My mom. My dad. My childhood. I won’t repeat the cycle. I deserve better than what my mom had.
I blow out a breath, and the next inhale comes a little shakier—eyes burning, chest tense.
It’s the truth. I am happy for him.
I blink, and a tear falls onto my hand.
I’m just sad for me.