I’m sure. And I don’t need to check with Vivian to know she’s more than okay with it.
Okay… Well, I’ll keep you posted. Thanks, Leo!
Leo
Sure thing, love.
I can hear Leo’s British accent in my head as I read it, and a grin spreads across my face, full and involuntary, lifting my mood just enough to break through the fog.
This will be good. A few days away to clear my head. To talk to someone rational. Someone who knows me but isn’t too close. Leo might be a little biased, but not like my family or Jensen’s.
I don’t get homeuntil close to eight. Jensen must be here because the kitchen lights are on, and I remember turning them off earlier. I fill up a water bottle to take to my room, then turn to head down the hall, and stop dead in my tracks.
A dozen emotions slam into me at once—anger, frustration, sadness. But mostly? Defeat.
My breaths go short and shallow. A drum pounds in my chest as I stare down the hallway at the door that’s been removed from our bedroom…
And reattached to the office.
I’m moving on instinct, without thought. My hands connect with the door before I know what I’m doing. The banging. The screaming. It doesn’t even feel like me.
But I’ve lost myself in this—just like Jensen has. I’m not proud of who I’ve become. But it’s been necessary. Guard up. Shield on. Ready for battle. Ready to fight. Every day.
Every. Damn. Day
Because I have to survive.
But so does he.
Chapter Forty-Three
JENSEN
THEN
“Jensen!”Alley’s voice comes sharp from the other side of the door, the pounding insistent and unnecessarily loud.
Jesus Christ. Can’t she just knock like a normal person?
I’m agitated. On edge. I stayed late at work, then hid out in my car, snorted some Oxy, and took a nap. I had to chill out from the stress of the day before I could face her.
It’s getting too hard to be around Alley. I avoid her at all costs. I can’t mask it anymore—can’t control it. I’ve spiraled further than I ever thought I would.
It’s starting to show at work. I can barely focus. It takes everything I’ve got to appear present. My boss is noticing—small things, but I’m slipping. Thank God he likes me. I’ve got years of success with him under my belt. I’ve proven myself, that’s for damn sure.
But how long before that’s not enough?
He cornered me today. He said I seemed off, and asked if I was okay. I told him shit at home with Alley wasn’t great. I blamed it all on my marriage. Sure, we’re hanging by a thread, that part’s true. But it has nothing to do with Alley.
It’s me. It’s all fucking me.
I did this.
I fucked up.
I ruined us.
The banging grows louder, adding fuel to the dumpster fire of my already-shitty day.
