Chapter 20 #2
I’ll never want to kiss another woman.
Couldn’t sit across from someone else at dinner without wishing it was you.
No one else will ever be good enough.
The thought of you not being in my life is unbearable.
But worse than that?
I hate myself for putting you in this position.
This is on me.
All of it.
I know that.
I take full responsibility. But God, please give me another chance. If there’s even a small part of you that remembers the good…
Please.
Don’t let this be the end.
I love you more than this life. More than fucking air.
More than myself.
Love,
Jensen
My hand drops to my side, and a burning stings the back of my throat. I blink, and a goddamn tear falls down my cheek.
I stare blankly at the empty hangers in front of me.
Her hangers.
I crumple the paper in my hand. I never planned to give her this one anyway.
“Fuck,” I mutter, voice rough.
Grief crashes over me like a wave—the kind that knocks you down and drags you under. I clench my fists and hurl the ball of crinkled, useless words at the wall.
I rake a hand through my hair, pacing. I need something to help me sleep.
Something to shut my fucking brain off. Something to help me forget.
I bolt into the kitchen, rifling through the medicine cabinet like a madman. I’m not looking for Oxy. I’m not.
Just… something to help me sleep.
Benadryl. Ambien. I don’t care if it’s fucking chamomile tea.
There’s nothing.
A memory pops in, and I pivot, beelining back to the bedroom. I reach under the mattress and pull out the small tin of edibles I stashed after Alley left. When I completely lost control and spiraled. I forgot I had them.
I used to take these all the time to help me sleep.
I sit on the edge of the bed, heart pounding, and set the edibles on the nightstand.
I stare at them.
They’re just edibles.
They’re practically harmless. People take them every day. Medically. Recreationally. To relax. To sleep. To laugh.
But I can’t fucking take these.
I grab my phone and call Matt.
It rings, then goes to voicemail.
I text instead.
SOS. Hey, man. I need you.
I should call my sponsor. But I don’t want to wake him.
Fuck, I hate this. I hate that this is who I am.
I haven’t felt like this since that first weekend back—when Alley served me the papers and I went looking for alcohol.
Since then I’ve been fine. It’s actually been easier than I expected.
So maybe this is okay. I’m just having a moment of weakness. It’s fine, as long as I don’t give in.
Did anything even happen? Or did I just create a whole story in my head? I’m assuming Alley feels a certain way—I’ve spun myself into a panic, possibly over nothing.
Taking a deep breath, I swipe up on my phone, and tap the first name in my favorites.
It rings.
Rings again.
Rings three times.
“Hey, what’s up?” Her voice is groggy. Soft. Full of sleep.
“Al…” I say, my voice choking. I pinch the bridge of my nose, eyes squeezing shut. Shit. Why did I call the one person I don’t want to see me like this?
“What’s wrong?” she asks, more alert now. I hear the sound of movement, but I don’t say anything. My regret hangs in the air. “Jensen… What’s going on? Are you okay?”
I let out a slow breath. “Yeah. I’m okay.
Sorry to wake you. I couldn’t sleep.” I think about keeping the edibles to myself—but I don’t want to lie.
I don’t want her to see me as weak either.
I’m supposed to be the protector. The strong one.
Not the man who almost unraveled at one in the morning over a fucking gummy.
She already spent two years cleaning up my mess. What if telling her pushes her away? What if it undoes everything we’ve worked toward the past few weeks?
But I can’t rebuild trust without giving her mine.
“I found some old edibles. Thought about taking one to help me sleep. I didn’t. But I wanted to. I tried calling Matt, but he didn’t answer so…” I trail off, voice rough. “I called you.”
That’s it, you fucking idiot—keep talking. Hey, babe, wanna sign up for this shit for the foreseeable future?
Jesus Christ.
She’s quiet for a second. “Okay.” Her voice is soft, patient. “What do you need?”
“I don’t know. Just talk to me?”
“Alright… how was your flight?”
“It was good.” I exhale, tension fading slightly. “How was your day? What did you and Scarlett do?”
“We went to a hot yoga class with Cooper, then grabbed lunch with her and Vivian at The Purple Pig.” She yawns, and guilt tugs at my chest. “Then we visited my dad and went to Michael and Stella’s for dinner.
Ended the day with lattes in the hot tub on the rooftop patio.
It was a good day. What’d you do when you got home? ”
“Not much. Just went to dinner at Kev and Meg’s with Matt.
” And then, without thinking—and because I’m desperate as shit with anxiety—I blurt it all out.
“I need to know where you stand, Al. I need to know if I’m going to be back in that lawyer’s office next month.
I need to know why you won’t talk to me about any of it.
Why you’re not angry. Why you haven’t asked about rehab.
” Jesus, I’m falling apart. “I need to know where your head’s at, babe.
I’m driving myself crazy. And if you’re really going to follow through on this divorce…
I need you to tell me now, because I’m just—” I swallow hard, my voice catching.
“Every time I’m with you, I fall in love with you all over again. ”
Fuck me.
The sound of my breathing fills the silence. My heartbeat pulses in my ear, and it feels like a goddamn eternity before she finally speaks.
“I don’t know where my head’s at, Jensen.
I’m trying to just be okay with that. I’m trying to enjoy my time with you while I figure it out.
And I haven’t asked about rehab because…
” She pauses, her voice cracking. “Because I don’t want to talk about it.
I don’t want to remember all the things I’ve tried so hard to forget while I’m trying to let myself love you again. Trying to trust you again.”
She breathes in shakily. “And I definitely don’t want to know about the things that helped you get better while my dad is lying in a hospital bed—possibly dying—from a disease I’m still trying to forgive you for.”
She sniffs, and it feels like a knife to the stomach. To be the one making her sad. And not just tonight, but for so damn long.
That realization sits heavy, and I feel like a fucking moron for not connecting the dots sooner. For not realizing that her silence was tied to her pain.
For thinking I could just remind her of us and kiss it all away.
I rub my forehead. “Jesus. I’m so sorry. That was really selfish of me. I just… sort of spiraled and got in my head. I’m not used to feeling that way.”
“Yeah, well, welcome to being human and second-guessing yourself.” She lets out a soft, sad laugh. “It’s about time.”
I shift the conversation. “How’s your dad?”
“He’s good. He had a great day. I think he gets to go home Tuesday or Wednesday.” She pauses. “And then I just pray he gets better… before he gets worse.”
“He will,” I say, quiet but certain.
She yawns again, and I take the hint. “Well… I’m sorry for waking you. I’m really glad about your dad. And I’m excited to see you this weekend. I’ll let you get back to sleep.”
“Are you going to be okay? I can stay on the phone while you fall asleep, if you want.”
“You mean while you fall asleep?” I let out a quiet laugh.
“Hey, it’s the thought that counts.”
“Get your sleep. Night, babe.”
“Goodnight.”
The line goes silent. I set my phone down and glance at the edibles. They don’t hold the same appeal anymore.
Nothing is worth losing Alley over.
Or losing myself.