Jensen
Hey, Alley. I’m out of rehab. 105 days clean today. I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, and I can respect that. But I’ve spent every single day trying to become someone I can be proud of. Someone who deserves to be by your side. Deserves to be loved by you. I don’t know where you stand anymore, but if you’re open to it—even a little—I’d really like to see you when I’m home. I miss you. I love you. More than you’ll ever know.
Cooper blows out a loud, slow breath. “God.”
“Yeah.”
A million thoughts and feelings hit me at once, but I can’t seem to name a single one of them.
Maybe I do need therapy after all.
My eyes wander to Leo’s parking spot. It’s empty, of course. It’s Tuesday—the one night he teaches at the university. He won’t be home for two more hours.
I’ve become way too dependent on him.
“What are you thinking?” Cooper’s voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts.
“A little bit of everything, I guess. Part of me reads this and wants to cry—because I’m proud of him, because I’m happy for him, and because I won’t be there when he gets home. Another part wants to wrap my arms around him, bury my face in his chest, and fall asleep to the sound of his voice while he tells me everything.” I pause, blinking quickly. “And then there’s the part of me that’s simmering with anger. Like, howdareyou think you can just text me like this and expect a response like everything’s fine. That part of me wants to write backfuck you.”
A nervous laugh escapes me. “And then there’s this small part that doesn’t give a shit and wants to ignore it altogether. Am I crazy?”
A slow smile spreads across her lips. “No. Not at all. I remember feeling the same way when I was thinking of leaving my ex. It’s different, of course. But it makes sense. I think it’s totally normal to feel all of that. Which feeling’s the strongest?”
I try to tap into it. The indifference is there—but the urge to hug him and punch him at the same time is louder.
“Probably the one that wants to hug him,” I admit. “And that’s the part that scares me most.”
“That’s because you’re a good person, Al.” Her gaze drops to her lap, then lifts back to me. “I’m probably not the best person to talk to about this stuff. You’ll get better advice from Leo when he gets home.” She laughs softly, gesturing toward his empty parking spot. “All I can tell you is what I’ve learned the hard way—surround yourself with people who love you, keep working on yourself, and the clarity will come. Just… don’t do anything impulsive. That’s never the right move.”
“You’re right.” I smile faintly. “Thanks for being here.”
“That’s what friends are for. You want me to pick you up Thursday?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.” I reach for the handle. “Thanks for the ride. Tell Ryan I said hi.” I step outside, closing the door behind me.
I make my way up the stairs to the kitchen. The house is quiet. Vivian’s probably upstairs putting the kids down.
I warm up some leftovers, settle onto a barstool at the counter, and open Instagram. I search Matt’s name and pull up his account. His last post has a bunch of photos from Zermatt, most of them with Jensen.
I’m inwardly kicking myself for the self-torture, but hey, I’m only human.
Every picture of Jensen tells me the same thing.
I still love him.
More than I want to.
And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
I’m staringat the clock on the stove when I finally hear the door open. It’s 9:46 p.m. A minute later, Leo steps into the kitchen.
“Hey, Al,” he says in passing, heading straight for the sink. He pulls some Tupperware from his bag and rinses it before opening the dishwasher. Then he glances over at me with a grin. “Couldn’t find anywhere more comfortable to sit?”
I smile softly, already having Jensen’s text pulled up on my phone. I’ve been sitting here over an hour and a half waiting for him. Pathetic, I know.
I slide my phone toward him across the counter. “Jensen texted me, and I don’t know what to do.”
His brows pull together as he reaches for it, hesitating. He reads the message silently, then sets the phone back down. “It’s a nice message. What are you thinking of saying?”
