CHAPTER 16
When I was little, I remember how time took forever to pass. The weeks between Halloween and Christmas seemed like a lifetime. Even the hours between morning and night felt like an eternity. Time feels a bit like that again now as I pace the kitchen, waiting for Jake to get home.
I worked so hard to prepare myself. Organize my thoughts. Gather my nerve.
But he’s late.
Now, the inner calm I struggled so hard to find has been replaced by alternating waves of worry and anger.
What if he hasn’t called because something bad has happened and he can’t?
Or what if nothing bad has happened and he’s simply chosen not to call despite knowing that his silence would send me on a collision course with panic?
My feet ache from pacing, but every time I make myself sit, I hop right back up to look out the window, sure that I’ve heard his truck pull up.
Checking the time on my phone again, I hold it up toward the ceiling where it gets an extra bar of reception.
Open up the text thread between us, making sure that I haven’t somehow missed his response to the last message I sent a half hour ago. I haven’t.
But he has read the message, which means he’s choosing to ignore me. Just like he’s choosing to send my calls to voicemail. It doesn’t necessarily mean that his loyalty is now with his mother over me, but the longer he remains silent, the stronger the thought takes hold.
Maybe he’s not even coming home. Or at least not this one. For all I know he’s at his condo right now. As impossible as I would have found all this to believe even this morning, now, I just don’t know. I’m not sure I can trust myself to see my reality accurately anymore.
It makes my heart feel like it’s been ripped out of my chest and shoved down a garbage disposal, dull, slimy blades mixing the organ with rotting food waste. Because as much as I want to love fiercely and blindly and with unwavering trust, I don’t know if I can. I might not be capable.
I’ve spent my entire career faced with the harsh reality of what happens to women in this world. Women who turn the other cheek. Who only see what they want to. Who let their guard down for an instant.
As much as we all want to believe that it’s strangers who pose the most danger, statistically, it’s not. And while I could never imagine Jake ever doing anything to hurt me, that doesn’t mean it’s not possible.
A dull thud sounds from outside. I hurry to compose myself, using the camera on my phone to check my reflection.
My eyes are tinged red and my skin is a bit blotchy, but it’s not completely obvious that I’ve spent the last several hours fighting off tears.
Forcing myself down into one of the chairs at the table, I wait.
There’s a series of beeps from the keypad on the door, followed by the clunk of the deadbolt turning. Footsteps carry inside. A moment later, Jake appears.
“Hey.” He hovers in the doorway, avoiding my eyes. He looks wrecked. My resolve to confront him wavers. “Sorry I’m late. I was in a meeting that ran over.”
“Are you hungry?”
“No.” Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, he fills it with water, takes a long sip before setting it on the counter by the sink. “I just want to grab a shower and get in bed.”
I nod, weighing my options. Do I put off this conversation until tomorrow night, knowing that my thoughts will be torturing me the entire time? Or do I force the issue now, when he’s obviously already in a bad mood?
Before I decide, the cup clinks, followed by a splash. Jake curses. Turning, I see the glass on its side, a puddle of water on the floor.
“I’ve got it,” I say, standing.
Without a word he snatches the dishtowel I’m reaching for and crouches, attacking the floor. It looks like he’s trying to scrub a hole through it more than mop up a spill. I guess we’re doing this now after all.
Kneeling, I take his hand in mine, stilling his frantic wiping. “Jake, what’s wrong?”
He pulls away, rising to his feet. “I wish you’d stop asking me that.”
“And I wish you’d answer honestly,” I say, taking my time as I stand beside him.
His jaw clenches. His nostrils flare. The muscles in his neck stand out like ropes pulled taut beneath his skin. “What makes you so sure I’m not?”
“Besides the way you’ve been acting?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I gesture toward him. “Are you really trying to say that you aren’t on edge right now?”
“What? Because I cussed when I spilled some water?”
“Among other things.”
“Like?”
I realize my mistake too late, because now I have to give him an example.
“Like yelling at an intern,” I say softly.
He goes so still he no longer appears to be breathing. His eyes narrow. His voice is a low growl as he asks, “Who told you that? Julian?”
“Yes.”
“What else did he tell you?”
“That something’s wrong. That you’ve been acting upset.”
“And you believe him? Over me?”
“In this case? I think that I do.”
I’ve never seen the expression that now darkens Jake’s face before. He mutters to himself as he storms by me. I follow him into the living room. Watch as he snatches his keys and wallet from the end table. Grabs his briefcase from the floor.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Anywhere but here.”
“Seriously? You’re just going to leave? You’re not going to talk this out?”
“What do you expect, Cassidy?”
I stare at him, not sure I heard right. I don’t think he’s ever called me by my full name before, not once in almost thirty-nine years. But his expression makes it clear—I heard correctly.
Part of me wants to beg him not to go. Before that part can speak, the rest of me clamps my tongue painfully between my teeth, because this isn’t all on me. I’m not trying to antagonize him. I’m trying to understand so that I can help.
I’m fighting for our relationship here, but it feels like I’m the only one. Which means that while 49% of me feels horrible regret, the other 51% is simmering with anger, the kind that makes me afraid of what might come out if I open my mouth.
So I watch him walk out the door. Listen for the sound of his truck engine as I stalk around the house like a tiger trying to reach its prey. But the sound doesn’t come.
Would I hear it over the thundering rush of my pulse in my ears? Over my own voice filling my head with doubts and regrets? Over the crunch of my molars as they grind together?
It’s likely, considering I catch the faint mewling coming from behind the closed door at the back of the house.
Rushing down the hall, I fling the door open and turn on the light.
The raccoon looks at me with sad eyes, reaching an arm toward me between the bars of her pen. The fight must have woken her.
Opening the door, I gather her in my arms. Murmur soft apologies as I gently rock her, hoping to get her back to sleep. As I do, I pull out my phone and check the surveillance camera app.
Jake is still parked out front. No doubt he’s planning on spending the night sleeping in his truck, afraid to leave me alone to fend for myself against another attempt on my life.
He really does love me, we’re just going through a rough patch right now. All couples have them. I just have to have faith that we’ll get through it.
The hot coal inside the pit of my stomach cools a little. Sorrow takes its place.
If the situation had been reversed, and Jake had listened to another woman’s opinion about how I was feeling over my own, how would I have felt? The flames of my fury probably would have been seen in space, that’s how.
I owe him an apology. And as soon as I get the kit settled, I’m going to go out there and give him one.
Ten minutes later, she’s back in the cage, curled up with Jake’s shirt. Her eyes are closed. Her body rises and falls with deep breaths. Carefully, I tiptoe from the room and turn off the light.
Then I race to the front door and fling it open. My throat squeezes tight. The tears I’ve been battling all day finally win, cascading down my cheeks.
Jake’s gone. He left me after all.