Chapter Fifty-Six
Brian
Guilt and frustration bubbled over when I walked in my front door and tossed Lainey’s keys into the bowl on the entryway table. I’d return them later—her car was already back next door.
The drive home hadn’t helped; I’d replayed every word the whole way.
Jade wouldn’t listen, and I couldn’t blame her. I’d done this to myself.
I grabbed a beer from the fridge, twisted the cap off, and eased into the recliner, careful not to jar my leg. It throbbed hard enough to make me grit my teeth, but I didn’t bother with the ice pack. Physical pain was easier to manage than what was running through my head.
I turned the TV on to a Cubs’ game. The Myrtle Beach Pelicans were their Single-A affiliate, so I always rooted for them. Tonight, it didn’t even register who they were playing or what the score was.
My phone lit up from the coffee table. Another notification from the Haven Springs page. I didn’t have to open it to guess what it was. Same damn video. Same people who couldn’t mind their own business. Same comments that cut too close to the truth.
I told myself not to look.
Then I did anyway.
There it was again. Sylvia standing too close, the reporter’s voice clear as day: “Are you two back together?” Sylvia’s smug smile. My silence.
The comments below were worse.
“Guess the hot nurse was just a fling.”
“Back with his ex already.”
“Poor girl. Should’ve known better.”
I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly through my nose.
Jade had seen this. Of course she had.
No wonder she didn’t want to hear what I had to say.
I tried to tell myself it wasn’t my fault—that I was just trying to protect her—but that didn’t stick. I’d told her we needed to cool things off, to make it look like we were nothing, and then I’d handed the town exactly what it needed to believe it.
The ache in my leg flared as I shifted, but I didn’t bother moving. I just sat there, staring at the frozen frame on my phone screen—the moment I kept quiet while Sylvia smiled—and let the truth settle in: I’d done this to her.
Sylvia had left me for someone who looked better on paper, and I’d been trying ever since to make sure no one could do it again.
Pulling back from Jade, keeping things quiet—yeah, that had been easier. Safer. For me, not her.
It was about me.
A bitter laugh slipped out. “Nice work, O’Shaughnessy.”
The phone slid from my hand and hit the floor with a dull thud. I didn’t pick it up.
There wasn’t anything left to say. Not to her. Not to anyone.