Once he’s gone, Dad adjusts his silverware while he appears to think. “Life isn’t always easy. Sometimes, the pressures of the outside world can weigh down on you until you barely recognize yourself anymore.”
“Why does it sound like you’re condoning his behavior?” I ask defensively.
His eyes look pained. “I just can’t help but feel like he’s battling something inside of him, something his father drilled into him that’s hard to shake. It doesn’t excuse the mistakes, and God knows I don’t want to see you hurt. But a part of me wonders if what you see in him is real, if maybe he’s trying to crawl out from under all of the weight. I’m torn, Jessie—between wanting to protect your heart and not ignoring the possibility that the man you’ve fallen for is still fighting to be better.”
His words cut into the deep wounds inside of me that are tired. Tired of fighting for something that feels like a battle where my heart is the casualty.
“I can’t wait around any longer for his honesty, for his truth.”
“You’re right. You deserve better than that. No matter what happens, I know you will be okay. Because from the time you were little, you held a strength inside of you that I’ve envied. No matter what, you stay true to yourself. I’m so damn proud of thewoman you’ve become. Never let anyone dim the light inside of you. It makes the world a better place.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I reply through blurry vision. “Ugh, enough about this. What’s new with you?”
“I got to see your brother last night,” he tells me after he takes a sip of his drink.
“How’s he doing?” I ask, feigning my interest.
Ethan and I are like oil and vinegar. We just don’t go well together.
He always cared about his image, treating me like an inconvenient little sister who got in the way of his attention. For years, I figured it was just a weird sibling-rivalry thing and we’d outgrow it and become close as adults. Maybe once we matured. But it appears Ethan as a mature adult isn’t much different from the one I grew up with.
Don’t get me wrong; I love him in thehe’s your brother so you have tokind of way.
“He’s had a hard go at life in the last six months. Was passed on for a big promotion and Melissa broke up with him.”
A twinge of guilt eats at me for not feeling surprised at all. “That’s … too bad.”
Dad chuckles. “Now, I know you two have had your differences. But he’s getting there. Working through his own struggles. We had a long talk last night. A deep one.”
“I didn’t know he was capable,” I say with my straw in my mouth.
“All I’m saying is, go easy on him. Life is teaching him some tough lessons at the moment. I don’t like to see either of my kids struggle.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re a great dad. We’re both lucky to have you.”
He reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“Well”—he sits up straight—“let’s talk about something else. I sense that right now, you need a distraction.”
I smile reluctantly. “You can say that again.”
He proceeds to talk nonstop for the rest of lunch, making fun of the people in their social circle and telling jokes that I’ve heard a hundred times. But it’s exactly what I needed to get me through the day.
As soon as I’m home from work, I change into a cozy set of pajamas and pop open a bottle of wine. I turn on the TV, but I can’t distract myself from the soul-crushing pain that sits heavy in my chest. I try to play a game on my phone, clean, scroll through social media, until I toss my phone on the ground and sink into my couch cushions.
I can picture Walker and Eli snuggling with each other at his place right now. If I hadn’t gone off last night, I would be with them right now. Everything inside of me wants to run over there and beg for him to take me back.
But I can’t. I won’t.
Instead, I let my head fall forward and cry. My tears wet the couch. Each one is a release of the loneliness taking hold of me and threatening to take me under.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Walker
Ineed to get out of my place. Each spot I move to holds a memory of Jessie that reminds me of what I had … and what I lost. Her words play on repeat in my head, a cruel soundtrack that keeps telling me what a coward I am. For letting her leave without falling to my knees and begging her to stay. For ever being the man who could make her shed a tear of sadness.
Eli cries in my arms, and I know I can’t stay here a second longer. I pack up a diaper bag and place her in the stroller, hoping she settles enough on the walk to take a nap.
