It never comes easy.
The battle between my thoughts, my past, and the future crashes into itself the second I close my eyes.
I take deep, slow breaths. Count. Repeat. Meditate.
Just like they taught me in rehab.
Chapter Nine
JENSEN
I’ve always hadthis ability to get what I want. Whether it was charming teachers for better grades, making every sports team I tried out for, or getting the popular girl to go out with me. I had to work for it, sure, but I always found a way.
Take Sabrina Mendenhall, for example—the most popular girl in high school. She lost her virginity to me. I made her laugh, reeled her in with personality, then sealed the deal with confidence and good looks.
Same with Alley. Same with everything.
Until I fucked it all up.
Life was easier back then. If something didn’t go the way I planned, I’d just pivot—pick a new path and keep moving. But it’s not that simple when you’re thirty-five and married, still cleaning up the wreckage of an addiction that took hold before you even saw it coming. There’s no easy out. No quick fix.
Rehab wasn’t easy, nothing about getting clean was. I think part of me thought I’d show up and magically get better. I didn’t. Rehab was the worst and best thing that ever happened to me. The hardest thing I’ve ever had to try at. That alone was frustrating—that I couldn’t charm my way to sobriety.
I learned a lot about myself there. Addiction’s complicated as hell. There’s no single cause. It’s layered. In therapy, I dug deep and started to understand some of the things that made me more susceptible.
Addicts don’t look like me. Or so I thought. I was too strong, too disciplined, too in control. But it wasn’t control. It was arrogance. Blind spots dressed up as confidence. And the worst part? I was never taught how to lose—because I never had to.
Horns blare around me as traffic halts on the bridge. “Fuck,” I mutter. I should’ve stayed at my parents’ a couple more hours. With tomorrow being Christmas Eve, and rush hour traffic, it’s a graveyard of glowing red taillights.
I just saw my parents for the first time since I’ve been back. We talked, and it actually went better than I expected. I was nervous, and it wasn’t easy. I had a lot of shit to work through with my mom. Stuff that came up a lot in rehab.
Not that it’s her fault. I take full responsibility for my actions. But she’s always babied me—treated me different than my siblings, like I was fucking special. I never knew why, and no kid’s ever gonna complain about that. Hell, I loved it growing up.
I love my mom, and we’ve always been close. But my whole life, she’s been more of a friend to me than a parent. She never taught me consequences or how to deal with shit, not like she did with Jeff and Megan. She made my life easy. I was never held accountable. Life was a fucking walk in the park—until pain meds became my crutch.
There’s never been confusion with my dad about his role. He was the parent. There were moments when I was younger that he would have beaten me black and blue if my mom had let him.
Even still, he never hid his anger. He wanted to punish me, and sometimes he did, behind her back. I thought he was being a dick for it then. Now? I kind of wish he’d done it more.
That’s the thing. Iwantedmy mom to be mad at me.
All these other people on my list—the ones I need to talk to, make things right with, apologize to—they’re all pissed at me. Or at least they were. But my mom? She never was.
How the hell was I supposed to know what’s real? What I’m actually worthy of? Fuck, did I even earn the things I thought I did, growing up? Or was she behind the scenes the whole time, pulling strings, opening doors before I even reached for the handle? Manipulating opportunities I thought I worked for. Jesus. No wonder I can’t tell the difference between confidence and control. My whole perception of life’s been warped in the worst possible way.
We talked about some heavy shit tonight—stuff from when I was little. My mom cried. A lot. I’ve seen her cry plenty of times, but never like that. Never that emotional, that vulnerable. And now I finally get it. Why she was so scared. Why she never wanted to be the one to punish me, even when I fucking deserved it.
“You have a new message from Megan. Do you want me to read it?” Siri blares through the speakers, interrupting my thoughts.
“Read the message,” I say aloud.
“Talked to Amber and Matt. They can do the Berkshires the third week in February. So plan on that. See you tomorrow.”
The Berkshires. Shit. That’s only seven weeks away.
Seven weeks to prove I’m worth another chance—because I don’t even want to think about going without Alley. I don’t know if I could. It might be too triggering.
Fuck, just being at my parents’ house was triggering. Sitting on that same couch where I detoxed… remembering the fallout between my mom and Alley. Where everything started to fall apart.
