43. Jensen
43
JENSEN
As I lumber down the steps of the town hall, sweat gathers on my forehead from the blazing sun and overwhelming stress. I can’t focus. My mind’s a hazy fog.
My plan to withdraw my candidacy failed. Going in, I felt anxious, but Gloria eased my worries when she didn’t ask questions after I informed her of my decision. Then I made the mistake of asking who else is on the ballot. Her answer sent me into a spiral. No one.
Everyone in Walford put their faith in me. They’re so confident in my ability to lead the town, not a single person chose to run against me. Not even the interim mayor, Mr. Olson. How could I possibly let that many people down? I can’t leave the town’s government in a lurch, and I’m not equipped to stand in judgment before the disappointed faces of three thousand citizens. Before, the pressure to become mayor smothered me. Now a crushing force presses against me from all sides.
Maisy will be so disappointed. She’ll think I’m a coward. I convinced her and myself I could fight for me —put my needs first. Apparently, I can’t. I’m a failure. Now I’ll be a stuck in a position I don’t want.
Why did I do this to myself?
The sight of her car brings a mixture of relief and apprehension. I hope she’s not upset with me because I need her support right now. I need her to hold me, tell me everything will be fine, and promise me we’ll find a solution.
She’s not waiting inside her car as I expect, so I search up and down the empty sidewalk. No sign of her. Approaching Bruno’s, I reach in my pocket for my keys. My pocket’s empty. I stop moving. The twisting in my gut demands attention. Something’s not right.
I push on the glass door and, sure enough, it’s unlocked. The bar is dead silent, not unusual for this time of day when I’m here alone, but this silence carries a stench. I locate the source of the stench when I walk into my unlocked office and step into a big pile of dread.
My keys draw my focus. How could they not when they dangle from the doorknob across the room? The wide-open door leading to the stairwell taunts me. A gaping maw ready to chew up my world and spit out everyone I love, leaving me alone in the dark pit. I’ve been there before. I knew I’d return one day, but I had hoped for more time.
Resigned to my fate, I forge ahead, placing one booted foot in front of the other. Shame and trepidation squeeze my chest like a vise, and I’ve never climbed these stairs as achingly slow as I do now.
She’s up there. I can sense her presence—her disgust. My failure to take my name off the ballot pales in comparison to what I’m about to face, but it’s a worry nonetheless. A man can only carry so many bricks before he crumbles under the weight. The cracks in my mind can’t withstand any more pressure.
My heart pounds in my throat. My stomach churns violently as my intuitive gut screams for me to not step foot in that room with her. This is the end. I can feel it.
At the top landing, I rest my fingertips on the door and force myself to drag in a fortifying breath. Then I slowly push it open and face my absolute greatest fear: my darkest secret coming to light.
Maisy sways in the tree swing I built for her all those years ago, which is now bolted to the ceiling. She looks so pretty in a yellow sundress with a plaid ribbon tied in her hair. The bright sun to my darkness. I should tell her to be careful. The swing isn’t safe anymore. I can’t stomach the thought of her being hurt.
“I should’ve known it was you.” Her level tone gives nothing away as she runs her hands along the fraying ropes. “Why did you let Logan take the credit?”
I lean against the doorframe with my shaky hands buried in my front pockets. “You were happy. I didn’t want to ruin the moment.” My voice sounds muffled, like I’m trapped in a glass jar. She wields the hammer, poised to break me open and spill all my secrets at once.
She nods slowly, absorbing my explanation, but won’t look me in the eye. I can tell she’s trying to hold back the monsoon of emotions raging inside her, same as I am.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I say, offering a partial truth, a weak attempt to temper the storm coming to sweep away our happiness. Our future.
I’m met with silence again, but this silence screams as it travels through my ears and punctures my brain.
“Please say something, birdie, because I’m really fucking scared right now and I don’t—what should I—I can’t—” I can’t find the words to explain.
When she rises to her feet, I shrink before her. She approaches with confident, purposeful steps and stops inches away, reaching around to my back pocket and retrieving my phone. I remain frozen, an iceberg in a raging, nightmarish sea, as she holds the screen to my face and unlocks it to uncover another of my ugly secrets.
With a few swipes of her finger, she navigates to the tracking app and deletes my access to her location. There’s no flinch, no shock, no expression on her face at all, which means…
“You knew,” I say, stepping into the room with her at last.
“I figured it out a while ago.” With relaxed shoulders and a casual stance, like she’s unbothered by the terror wrenching my soul from my body, she tosses the phone onto the papasan chair. “You know, all these years, you thought what happened on the porch pushed me away. That was only half of it. The first shove happened the day you and Logan left for the lake trip. You were in his bedroom, and he asked you about me.”
My body turns rigid. The organ sprinting in my chest comes to a screeching halt.
“He asked if there was anything happening between us. Do you remember?” Yes . Make this stop. “And what did you tell him, Jensen? What did you say about me?”
Her fierce gaze remains steady as it burns into mine. She’s so fucking strong. Meanwhile, I’m fighting hard to keep my hands out of my hair and fisted at my sides.
“Please don’t make me say it. It tore me apart to lie like that. To paint you in a negative light.”
“It tore you apart?” She lets out a short laugh, a mirthless sound of disbelief. Disgust. “You destroyed me. I never knew words could obliterate me like that, but coming from you…” She shakes her head, her gross disappointment flaying me open, one square inch of flesh at a time. “So I gave you a chance to make it right. The day on the porch was as much for you as it was for me. It was your shot, your chance to come clean and confess how you felt about me. To redeem yourself. And what did you do, Jensen?”
I failed you.
“Birdie,” I whisper, her name a broken plea on my lips.
“What did you do?”
“Please,” I beg, but she shows no mercy. A strong woman never backs down.
“You denied me. You lied to me and yourself. Told me I was imagining things. You called me silly . You gave me the final shove—right off the fucking cliff—when all I needed was for you to tell me I was wanted and loved. You were my last hope for happiness in a lonely life. And you knocked me in the back with both hands and watched me fall.”
Stop this. Please . I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. Can’t move. All I can do is silently beg for someone—anyone—to end this nightmare before it ends me.