32. Chapter Thirty-Two
JJ
Three months later…
“When do you land?” Nash asks as I walk toward my gate, pulling my carry-on suitcase behind me.
The airport is bustling with people rushing to get to their gates and make their flights.
I’ve been bumped into a handful of times already.
My phone starts to slide from my shoulder, so I shove my wallet back into my pocket and grab the cell to hold it to my ear.
“Little after midnight.”
“You happy to be going home?”
“If being away for three months taught me anything, it’s that nothing has ever felt like home.”
“Well, now’s your chance to fix that.”
“Maybe. I haven’t talked to Miles since before I left.”
It hasn’t been easy. Being away from him has made me see how much I care about him. Miss him. Want him in my life for more than what we had. I knew that to some extent before, but the distance… it’s not been easy.
“A little birdie told me he’s asked about you once or twice…”
I come to a stop, my heart pounding harder in my chest. Someone veers around me, cursing under their breath as they keep walking, nearly missing me.
“Fuck you, Nash. Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“So you could cut your trip early? Nah. You needed that time away.”
I let out an annoyed sound and keep walking.
Of course he would do something like this…
but he’s not wrong. Had I known Miles was asking about me, it would have been harder to stay where I was.
Having the idea in my head that he was fine without me, didn’t miss me, wasn’t thinking about me, it hurt, but it made it easier to get through this trip. I needed it, and I’m glad I did it.
“Who was it? Was it AJ?”
“Of course it was fucking AJ. I told you I’d pass along your message.”
“That makes me feel so much better,” I say to myself.
“That’s the goal. See you soon. Have a safe flight.”
“I’ll text you when I land,” I say before ending the call.
Taking a Leave of Absence for three months was exactly what I needed.
I reset, cleared my mind, and figured some things out about myself that were long overdue.
I’ve taken vacations here and there, but my whole adult life has revolved around Franklin—even when I thought it didn’t.
Everything I did, was, in some way, due to my marriage.
Either because of it or trying to fix it.
I realized, with the help of a therapist, that it was nothing but unhealthy.
I can’t say I’m fixed, because I’m not. I still have a lot of fucked up things going on in my head, but I plan to continue therapy and keep working at it.
Each day gets a little easier. Had I done this years ago—had someone told me I needed this years ago—maybe I’d be in a better headspace today.
When my parents died, we went into a foster home.
They were good parents, took care of us as well as we needed, but they didn’t go above and beyond.
They were kind of just there… doing the basics.
I think they did their best with what they were given.
Dealing with three boys with trauma like ours wasn’t easy.
I don’t fault them in any way, and I’ve thought about them a lot during this trip. Even wrote them a letter.
Renting a cabin for three months in the upper peninsula of Michigan wasn’t cheap, but my brothers and I got life insurance money from our parents’ deaths.
I hadn’t touched mine because my salary at work was enough for what I needed, and Franklin helped pay the bills at the house.
He’d done that since we bought it. They were set on auto-pay, something I’m sure he didn’t set up on his own.
Regardless, it’s helped me save money and made it easier for me to take this much-needed trip—and continue to help Hollis over the years.
While away, I kept my phone off—except when I did my weekly check-ins with Nash.
We spoke for five minutes, enough for him to know I was alive and not being held against my will.
Phone went right back off and into the drawer when we hung up.
It’s a different type of living up there, nothing like Chicago.
I didn’t love it, it isn’t something I’d want to do all the time, but it served its purpose.
The alone time in the woods was beneficial.
I feel like I shed a hundred pounds. But now I’m on my way back home, and it’s time to face the music.
I have a big mess to go back to—and I need to clean it up.
Not just that, but I want to clean it up.
I don’t want to go back to the life I had before. I want something better.
Nash picked up my mail for me while he was still in the area, but once he moved to New York a few weeks ago, I had it held at the post office. The first thing I need to do in the morning is stop by to see if I have paperwork from the court.
It only took me two weeks with my therapist and being away from everyone to fully accept that I needed a divorce.
I said nothing to Franklin about it, just sent the divorce papers.
I don’t want anything from him, just want to be separated…
legally. He agreed, which was a shock. I’d planned on fighting him over it.
But he didn’t put up a fight. He did the absolute worst thing he could have done.
Franklin handled it quietly, making sure no one heard a thing about it.
It hurt, I won’t deny that. He swept me under the rug.
I’m just another problem for him to overcome.
It took me about a week to come to terms with what he was doing, but it was nothing new.
A lot of it doesn’t make sense, and I can’t figure out why he would deny me a divorce when we spoke but then willingly signed the papers.
Maybe he finally took it seriously? Knew I was serious, and he didn’t want to risk it?
I have to accept that there are some questions I’ll never have answers to, especially when it comes to Franklin.
He lives to serve himself, and no one else.
I’m choosing to look on the bright side.
If he was keeping it quiet, that meant I wouldn’t have to go to court. And I didn’t, nor will I have to. Not only did he keep it quiet, but he somehow got it pushed through immediately—we’ll be officially divorced in a couple of months.
Nash told me he threw a fit when he showed up at the house and got my note.
I never told Franklin that I was leaving or what my plans were.
All I did was leave him a note telling him I had things to do and wouldn’t be back for a while.
I knew he’d find it when he showed up for his “check-in.” He was so angry that he called Nash.
I didn’t even know he still had his phone number.
I’d gone back and forth on selling the house, but I’m not in a rush to do so. Franklin and I picked it out together, but it’s not like he was ever there with me. Maybe I’ll sell it one day, but for now, there’s no point in going through all the trouble.
Learning to let go was the hardest part of this entire experience.
Funny how I can run into a burning fire with no problem, but dealing with personal things is nearly impossible on the best of days.
What’s really going to be difficult is talking to Miles.
I hope he’s willing to start fresh. I have not stopped thinking about him since I last saw him.
I wanted to call him every day, but his words kept ringing in my head.
“Take some time to think about you.”
“Listen to yourself.”
Those words hit hard. I’ve never focused on what I want. I always worried about what Franklin would say or do, or how he’d react. Putting myself first is a work in progress, but I’m getting there.
I don’t have to go back to work until next week, so I can take my time getting settled at home. Another plan I made with my therapist was to make it a home. Buy furniture I like, design it the way I like. It’s my house, I live there, and it should be comfortable.
My flight is on time, the ride smooth, and we get in a little early.
I text Nash as I wait for my ride share.
Even this late at night it takes forever to get home.
I can’t say I’m happy to be here, but it is slightly relieving to be back in a place I’m familiar with, even if it isn’t exactly welcoming. I’ll get to fixing that.
I leave the suitcase by my closet, undress down to my underwear, and drop into bed. I’d hired a cleaner to come in a few days ago, this way I wouldn’t have to worry about whatever mess happened while I was gone. Mostly I just wanted fresh sheets and nothing covered in a layer of dust.
I fall asleep quickly. Then morning is here.
I shower and get dressed to leave, stopping at a cafe to grab breakfast and a coffee.
My first stop is the post office to grab my mail.
There’s nothing here that’s important, just some junk and bills.
Next, I stop at the grocery store to refill my fridge and cabinets, since I got rid of everything before I left.
I take my time putting things away as I listen to a history podcast. My therapist said listening to something while I’m home will help me not feel so lonely.
It helped when I was in the cabin, which was a lot more remote than this.
Loneliness started to set in after the first week, but I quickly learned to deter my brain and focus on something important.
Like figuring my shit out. Miles was always a nice distraction. His pretty face. His scent. That smile…
When there’s nothing left to busy myself with, I drop onto my couch and pull up the text conversation with Miles.
I texted him before I left. It’s read, but there’s no response. Same way it’s been since the day I sent it.
Me:
I’m leaving for a while to get my head straight. I hope we can talk when I get back.
Maybe it was a little too vague, but it felt better to say less at the time. Now, I want to spill my heart all over again. I only hope he’ll listen.