I’m already bracing myself for tomorrow night. Christmas Eve. It’s always been my favorite day of the whole year.Charades. The food. The way my family packs into the living room like it’s a sporting event.
That first year with Alley was by far my favorite. We hadn’t even been dating that long, but that night? That’s when I knew I was falling in love with her. The last girl I’d ever bring home. The first woman I’d ever sayI love youto. My last first date. My last first kiss. My last time sleeping with someone new.
She’d won the Best Guesser award. Her cheeks were red with embarrassment, and her dimple popped from all the laughter. Our eyes locked mid-speech from my mom, and things had never been more clear. It was like Cupid shot me straight through the goddamn heart. She was it. The one.
The only one.
Hard to believe that was five years ago. Tomorrow night’s going to be tough without her.
A memory barrels in—a fucking nightmare buried so deep it feels like a missile to the chest, making it hard to breathe. Christmas Eve. Last year. Alley. My family.
Holy shit.I was on Oxy, and that night, I locked myself in the bathroom at my parents’ to do a line of coke. Alley was outside the door, begging me to come out, to finish charades. I’d gotten up right in the middle of it. When I finally opened the door, she was crying. Screaming. And I left. I fucking left her there. On Christmas Eve.
I took the car and—God, I don’t even know where I went. Can’t remember. But I know I didn’t go back.
Guilt and remorse hit all at once, and my eyes sting. I swallow hard and grip the steering wheel.I’m such a fucking asshole.
No wonder she left me.
These memories come in at random—half-remembered flashes I’d do anything to make untrue. Every time one hits, it knocks the wind out of me. I’ve been out here apologizing,asking for forgiveness like I left a damn dish in the sink. But the truth is, I stood at the center of everyone’s lives with a bomb I didn’t even know I was holding—then lit the match.
In therapy, we talked a lot about forgiveness. Problem is, with addiction, the person I need to forgive the most is me. And that’s a hell of a lot harder when the memories keep popping in like a fucking Pez dispenser loaded with shame.
Mom’s constant softness taught me I’d always be forgiven. It’s like I never developed the muscle to cope with failure, loss, or rejection. This whole thing—the addiction, losing Alley—it’s the first real consequence that’s ever stuck. And I failed it. Fuck, I failed it worse than I ever imagined.
Traffic picks up, and I let my foot press heavier on the gas.
I can’t spiral right now. I’ve come a long way. Accomplished a lot. I went to rehab. Got clean. I didn’t talk my way into sobriety—I pushed through. Did the work. Changed my diet, my habits, my mindset, my entire lifestyle. I worked with therapists and counselors. I cried. I journaled. I did shit I never thought I’d do.
And now, there’s only one thing left to do.
Get my wife back.
My phone rings, and I glance at the holder on the dash. It’s Keith.
I hit accept and pray he has news from Alley’s attorney.
My eyes pop open.It’s still dark, but the glow from the nightstand hits my eyes. I reach for my phone, a new text lighting up the screen.
It’s from Alley. It’s 2:11 a.m.
I take a shaky breath, pulse already picking up. I open the message.
Alley
Hi. I don’t really know what to say, or why I’m texting you right now. I couldn’t sleep. But thank you for saying all of that. I think about you too. I’m not sure why I’m telling you that… I guess I don’t want you to think that I don’t. Tonight’s… hard.
A wave of relief rolls through me. Not explosive. Just strong and steady. It’s the first real sign of hope—something to fuel the fire I’ve been barely keeping alive.
I let out a breathy laugh. “She still loves me.”
That’s all I needed.
A little vulnerability.
Proof that she misses me. That she cares. That she still loves me—even if she won’t say it yet.
I lie back down, a calm settling in. My resolve stronger than ever.
