30. Jenna
Chapter thirty
Jenna
He came.
Without questions, without complaint.
Without an ulterior motive.
And I can’t understand why.
He doesn’t owe me anything.
I don’t know why I texted him, either, but I’ve told myself it’s because Cassandra is away, and I needed someone to lean on. And in that moment, he was my someone.
Out of the blue, I craved to be comforted by the person I’d only ever looked at in a sexual way, but right then, needing him made sense.
He got my text at midnight, and barreled through my door like a madman, scooping me up into his arms. He had no idea why I needed him.
But still, he came.
My text to him was vague. It could’ve been taken in any context, but Cole…he read it in the way that I so desperately needed him to.
I spent my flight back home picturing my mom’s face in my apartment as she’d collapsed, and how guilty I’d felt. And every time I remembered what her body looked like on the ground, I reminded myself of what she’d said to me when I gave her a forced hug goodbye.
‘I don’t need you here, Jenna. I don’t even want you here. But good thing I have a job now, so insurance will cover all medical bills. I guess you came in handy, after all.’
My whole life, I hoped that the mom I had when I was younger still existed somewhere inside of her, but if it wasn’t already evident that she died along with my dad, it is now.
Did I feel guilty for taking her off my insurance policy? I threw up the moment I got back to my apartment after dinner with Margot, so, yeah.
I’m thirty-one-years-old, and I’m still letting my mom dictate my life, still letting her pick and choose when, and how, she shows me love.
But a love like the one I’ve been desperate to feel from her shouldn’t come with conditions.
But it always did.
But I can’t stand to lose the person I’m slowly becoming. The person Becky Rogers has absolutely no right to know.
She didn’t even want me to be there for her, but I told her I would. I told her I would quit the job I’ve wanted since I was a kid, just to make sure she was OK.
And she was going to let me .
Even though she didn’t want me there, she was going to let me leave it all behind to take care of someone who hasn’t cared about me for over two decades.
I reminded myself of all of that repeatedly, but it doesn’t make the guilt of leaving any easier.
But what if it happens again?
What if Mark leaves her, and she has nobody?
What if the doctor’s got it wrong, and the physical therapy won’t actually help her?
I hated that I felt a deep sense of heaviness inside of me for her wellbeing, when she and I both knew she didn’t deserve it.
She’s your mother, my bruised and battered heart kept reminding me.
But my head? It was telling me I was doing the right thing.
When I’d gotten back to Grangewood Creek, I threw myself onto my couch, with no intention of leaving it, until my TV just wouldn’t turn on.
Robbie came over, fiddled with some cords, and it came to life. I walked him out my front door, saw Cole walking toward the elevator with a bag over his shoulder, and I panicked, quickly shutting it behind me, only to open and close it once more when I’d seen him.
I plopped myself back down on my couch, and mindlessly flicked through the options on Netflix until I found something I wanted to watch.
Mean Girls.
And when Cady said, “The limit does not exist,” I knew I needed to cry, and I knew I needed Cole to tell me it was OK to do so.
But I couldn’t bring myself to hit ‘send’ on the text, even though it was typed out and ready to go.
This is new territory for me. It’s the type of text I’d usually send Cassandra, but without wanting to disturb her while she’s on her honeymoon, he was the next best option.
The safest option. Because that’s how he made me feel.
Safe.
I’ve hardly been alone with him enough to even warrant feeling that way, but I just knew he would give me the comfort I was so desperately craving, even after I’d convinced myself I was fine, and forced myself to believe it.
He blocks out the noise, quietens the static in my head, and allows me to feel every little emotion I’d accumulated over the last twenty-six years, and he watched as it just…overflowed.
I had spent hours pacing my apartment when the movie finished, trying to fight the devil on my shoulder that told me being in Grangewood Creek was where I belonged, while the eager little girl on the other one begged me to go be with her mom.
But the devil won out, and for the first time in my life, I put myself first—something I have never, ever done before.
Once I’d accepted that I was my own priority, I got comfortable in my bed, kindle in hand, only for my eyes to feel the weight of a thousand books, barely able to stay open. I took it as a sign that sleep was about to crash over me, and I welcomed it with open arms, but I waited for something that would never come.
I tossed and turned for hours.
My back.
My side.
My stomach.
My back again with a pillow over my head, but nothing seemed to work.
I just couldn’t shake the decision I’d made by coming back here. Jobs come and go…but she…God, she’s my mom, and that’s something that will never change.
So, instead of impulsively booking a flight back, I tried to make myself remember anything good with her, so that I had a valid reason to stay in California, and show up for her physical therapy. But I scraped the walls of my brain until they bled, all while searching for a single memory.
The bad times were the only ones I could recall.
How I got the tiny scar on my chin.
How she locked me out of the trailer in a storm, and I had to sleep beneath a tiny, glass table in the pouring rain.
Or how I’d found her in a puddle of her own vomit that she made me clean up the next morning.
How she broke my heart for the first time.
And the second.
And the third.
People used to always tell me to take the good with the bad, but there was never any good to take.
Remembering my childhood made me panic.
But tonight, I forced myself to remember it all, and it sent me into a spiral. I shot upright, hugging my knees to my chest, attempting to calm myself down.
Breathing techniques didn’t work.
Words of affirmation didn’t work.
Water, wine, none of it worked.
And that’s when I caved.
That’s when I texted him, and told him I needed him.
I expected my message to be read in the late morning. I expected him to come over—condom in his back pocket—ready to fuck me until the sun came up, but he didn’t. He didn’t even try.
And I knew it wasn’t because he didn’t want me like that. He’s made it very obvious time and time again that I’m the only one he wants in that way. But I was glad when he didn’t pressure me into something that I thought he would expect.
“Are you sure you want me to stay?” he whispers to me, my head still nuzzled into his neck. I don’t know what the time is, or how long he’s been here, but I know at some point I dozed off. And when I woke up thinking he’d left, it felt like a part of me was missing. When I felt him move beside me, I felt like I could breathe.
Sinking my head deeper into his chest, I realize he and I have never been so close while either of us are clothed. He smells like alcohol and cigarettes.
“Since when do you smoke?” I pull back, taking in every detail of his face that the light from the moon will allow.
So breathtakingly handsome, and after tonight, probably even more so.
“Smoke?” he asks, his voice sleepy, croaky and quiet.
“Your shirt smells like it’s been washed with a bottle of whisky and nicotine.”
Near-silent laughter rumbles through his chest. “Well, that depends. Are you asking actor Cole Green or Bartender Cole?” His hands softly caress the back of my head, but he doesn’t pull me closer, he just mindlessly plays with my hair.
“Bartender…?” I ask, realizing I know nothing about his past, other than what my quick internet search allowed.
Former model turned actor.
“We can talk about it tomorrow. Are you sure you want me to stay?” he asks again with a soft kiss on my forehead.
I wriggle closer to him. “I’m sure. Unless you have to—”
“Here is the only place I want to be.” He places a soft kiss on my lips and snuggles in, one of his arms wrapped around me. It isn’t long before his breathing slows. I don’t know if he’s fallen asleep , or if he’s relaxed, knowing I don’t want him to leave, but something about this is comforting.
My demons themselves aren’t physical, but I know even if they were, he would be the one to shield me from them. My heart hammers in my chest knowing I have someone like Cole Green in my corner. Yet, my mind demands that I remind myself—this is temporary.
This will expire.
This will end .
And if I’m heartbroken by the time this is all over, I only have myself to blame.
But it’ll all be worth it.
“Cole?” I whisper, struggling to fall into any form of sleep.
“Yeah, Snow?” he whispers back, placing another kiss on the top of my head.
“Do you want to go for a drive?”
“A drive?” he questions, lips now pressed on my forehead, and I nod against them. “It’s two in the morning,” he says after checking the time. “Is anything even open?”
“Back home, whenever I got overwhelmed but couldn’t bake for whatever reason, I would go to the beach to just clear my head. Since Grangewood doesn’t have a beach—”
“Would a creek do the job?” He sits upright against the backrest of my bed, taking my hand into his lap as I mimic his motion.
“A creek would be perfect.”
“Let me just run upstairs and grab a clean shirt, because now that you’ve pointed out the smell, I’m a little self conscious.” He laughs awkwardly, ripping it over his head, leaving his rippled, tanned chest bare, and I fight the urge to touch him, even for just a second.
“Go,” I say with a sly smile. “I’ll change too.” And that’s exactly what I do while trying my best to ignore the fact that he and I are hanging out without the benefits of our arrangement. All while he’s doing whatever he can to make sure my mind doesn’t stray.
Only, it does.
Not about my mother and her betrayal, though.