Chapter 24
Frank and Joyce agree to take the kids out to breakfast after I explain to them that we’re having a bit of a family emergency and that I’ll talk to them more later.
As soon as the house is quiet, I start making calls.
Victoria is first, answering with the grumpiness of someone woken up by their boss calling at seven in the morning. “This better be good. I don’t have to be up for another thirty minutes—”
“I need you to clear my schedule for the rest of the week,” I say, cutting her off. “Reschedule what you can, send anyone urgent to the hospital.”
“Is everything okay?” There’s rustling on the other line and I can tell from her voice that she’s starting to worry. We’ve worked together for years, and I’ve never canceled an appointment.
“It will be. There’s something going on with Addie that can’t wait. I’m sorry for the short notice. I’ll make it up to you.”
“You better,” she says with a huff. “I’ll be expecting that raise sooner rather than later.”
“Consider it done,” I agree, a smile gracing my face for the first time in days.
With my appointments taken care of, I pour myself a cup of coffee and scroll through my contacts until I find the name I’m looking for. Dr. Alice Baker. A mental health counselor I’ve worked with, mostly during my shifts at the hospital, who I know is the best at what she does.
And she actually answers the phone, so I consider myself lucky.
I explain as much as I can, without knowing what’s going on inside her brain.
That she was thinking of harming herself, but hasn’t yet.
She offers to see her two days from now, and I accept, gratefully.
She gives me a list of things to watch out for, and if she gets any worse before her appointment to take her to the hospital, which I already know, but I thank her anyway.
Just as I start looking into the resources Dr. Baker offered, there’s a knock at the door. And even though I called her myself, I’m still not prepared to open the door to my wife, standing on the porch.
I don’t say anything for a long moment.
Neither does she.
The first thing I notice is that she looks different. Her blonde hair is shorter, chopped at her shoulders. A haircut I’ve never seen on her. She’s lost the weight she gained when she was pregnant with Ollie and never could fully get off. Her skin has tanned and freckled from the Florida sun.
She looks more comfortable in her skin than she has in a long time.
“I got your message,” she says, and I step back, holding the door open.
She takes in the house that was meant for us to grow old in together, to raise our son, and sees the changes that have happened over her absence. “Where are—”
“The kids aren’t here,” I say, guessing her next sentence. “Frank and Joyce took them for breakfast.” She nods, her face falling in disappointment.
“You want some coffee? There’s a fresh pot.”
I go to the kitchen, and she follows, sitting at the island while I pour her a cup the way she likes without thinking about it. Milk and two sugars. “How is she?” she asks, wrapping her hands around the cup when I slide it to her.
“I don’t know.” I stay on the opposite side of the island, leaving the space between us. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it. My own daughter was hurting, and I didn’t even realize until it was almost too late.”
Jess looks down at her cup, a frown tugging at her lips. “At least you were here.”
It’s my automatic instinct to comfort my wife. To tell her something to make her feel better. But she’s not wrong this time, and I can’t deny that her leaving us without a word had an impact on the kids. “She thinks you left because you don’t love her.”
“She knows that’s not—”
“She’s seventeen. You’re her mom, and you abandoned her. I got her an appointment Thursday with a counselor, but she needs more than that.” I hold her gaze, seeing the devastation in her eyes. “She needs her mom.”
“I know,” She agrees. “I know she does. I’m not leaving again, Nolan. I’m going to do whatever I have to do to make it up to you and everyone else.”
I don’t feel what I thought I would feel, hearing her promise.
I believe her. She’s a good person, a loving mother.
I know she was overwhelmed. I forgave her already, and I hope the kids will too.
But looking at her, sitting in our house, it’s like looking at a stranger.
My heart doesn’t know her anymore, and maybe it hasn’t for a long time.
“I know you will.” I take her hand, and she holds on tight. “It might be hard at first, but we’ll get through it.” The tears she’s been holding back fall from her eyes, the same color as Will’s, and I feel my heart clench tight at the reminder.
“Can I see her? And Ollie? I missed them so much, you have no idea.”
“When they get back,” I say with a squeeze to her hand. “They missed you too.”
By the time the front door opens, Jess and I have found some semblance of comfort with each other again. We’ve talked about Addie and her upcoming appointment. I tell her about the conversation with the pills and her fight with Emmett.
“She rejected him? Seriously?”
“Yeah, I don’t understand it either. I always figured—”
“So did I.”
We make a good team when it’s not about us, so we don’t let it be. There isn’t a single mention of where we stand, and that’s for the best. Those difficult conversations can be saved for later.
Ollie comes through the door first with a bounce in his step, stopping when he sees us, his eyes landing on his mother.
“Mommy!” he shouts, coming toward us at a run. She crouches down to catch him just in time, picking him up even though he’s getting too heavy for even me to hold comfortably.
“Hi, baby,” she says, into his hair. “I missed you so much.”
“You were gone so long,” he says, his little arms tight around her neck.
“I know.” Her voice cracks. “I won’t leave again, I promise.”
Addie, on the other hand, is watching her mother with wide eyes.
When Jess puts Ollie down and he comes to me for a hug next, I pick him up, and we watch as Addie crosses the room.
She hugs her mom, stiff at first, her arms reluctant. But as she holds her, her shoulders drop, relaxing into the hug. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been here, Addie,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”
Addie shakes her head, pulling back from the hug, her jaw clenched and her eyes shining. “That was really messed up, Mom.”
“I know it was.”
“You don’t just—You don’t just leave.” Her voice wavers. “You don’t know everything that’s happened and—I needed you, and you weren’t here.”
“I know.” Jess cups her face in both hands, wiping her tears away. “I know it wasn’t okay and I’m not going to pretend I have an excuse. I shouldn’t have left. And I never will again.”
Addie shakes her head as the dam breaks on whatever was holding her emotions back, falling into her mom, who holds her tight. “I hate you,” she cries, but she takes it all in stride, rubbing her back, whispering soothing words.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here now.”
“Daddy, why is Addie crying?” Ollie asks, taking my face in his little hand and turning it to look at him.
“She’s sad, buddy.” I put him down, guiding him out of the room. “Come on, let’s go upstairs and play cars while Addie talks to mom.”
“Okay!” He takes off up the stairs, while I follow behind at a much slower pace, leaving the girls to talk in the kitchen.
And for the first time, playing with Ollie in his bedroom, I can almost relax. With Jess home, I think everything might be okay.
That thought lasts until bedtime.
Ollie needed two stories from me and three from Mom, and Addie and Jess stayed up late talking on the couch before she finally went to bed, giving me an extra-long hug before she went upstairs.
Now it’s just us, and the silence between us settling in.
I go to the closet full of household extras, pulling out a spare blanket and a pillow and carrying them to the couch where my wife is sitting. She looks up at me with a crease between her brows. “What are you doing?”
“Getting set up for the night. You take the bed. I’ll sleep down here.”
“Nolan. You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“It’s fine. You had a long flight and—”
“We’re still married,” she says, stopping me from spreading out the blanket with a hand on my arm. “We can both sleep in the bed.”
“Jess,” I say with a sigh, thinking about the last time I slept in that bed with someone. I can’t do it. I set the half-folded blanket on the couch and turn to her, pulling my arm away from her touch. “I can’t act like everything is the way it was before.”
She scoffs, crossing her arms. “I’m not sure how much worse it could get.” She pauses, working up to something from the look on her face. “But I think we should try. Give this another shot, for the kids’ sake.”
“I’m not, I—I don’t think we should make any decisions about us right now. Maybe when we get things sorted with Addie, we could talk, but…” I trail off, leaving behind something that feels wrong. An assumption about us, where we’re going, that isn’t true.
Our relationship was over the second I kissed Will in the park. I can’t walk that back, and I don’t want to.
But Addie smiled tonight, and Ollie was so excited to see his mom, and Jess is actually here. I can’t mess that up right now. “I’ll take the couch,” I say. “For now.”
With everyone upstairs and in bed, I lie in the dark, staring at the ceiling fan, falling asleep to the memory of teal eyes filled with betrayal.
I wake up to the smell of something good. Eggs, vegetables, sausage. Jess making something in the kitchen. The kids are already at the table when I pull myself up and hobble over to the table, stiff from restless sleep on the couch.
She slides a plate in front of me when I sit down, and it doesn’t look nearly as good as what the kids have. “Extra veggies for you. Don’t think I forgot you’re supposed to be watching your blood pressure.”