But now?
I’m not so sure.
Jensen’s the reason I’m even here with my dad. He encouraged me to make peace, drove me to see him, waited outside while we talked. He was a constant, steady strength for me. He’s also the only one who really gets it—the guilt I carry when it comes to my dad.
I wrote him off for ten years. Abandoned him when he needed me most. He was hurting, and I just… left. I ignored his calls, let his texts go unanswered. I didn’t visit when I stayed in Chicago. I acted like he didn’t even exist.
God, that’s exactly what I’m doing with Jensen. Ignoring him. Shutting him out. Pretending it’s easier not to feel anything. But it’s not easier. It’s eating me alive.
The realization hits so hard I gasp, a sharp breath that startles me.
But I don’t cry. I hold it in. Swallow it down. I let it all out before my flight, and I’ve been holding it together ever since.
I exhale—slow and steady. Then take another breath, this one even deeper.
Oh my God. I’m an avoider. When things get hard… I run.
I hide.
I bring my hand to my lips and chew on my thumbnail, my fingers shaky and cold.
I knew I did this with my dad, but apparently, it’s a pattern.
I try to make sense of it, but my brain’s operating at five percent, max.
Ididtry. Ididstay—for a long time.
I squeeze my eyes shut and press my fingers to my temples. My head is throbbing.Did I try hard enough? Am I supposed to give him another chance?
I could at least respond to his texts. He’s still technically my husband, and I’ve been treating him like some guy I dated once and don’t know how to get rid of.
Shit.I’ve been so caught up in how hard it would be formeto seehim, I haven’t thought about how difficult all this might be for him.
He texted a few weeks ago about working the steps. Said he just wanted to talk. Make things right. Apologize. And I just… ignored him.
Like an asshole.
The bare minimum would be giving him the decency of closure.
I know he wants more, but that doesn’t mean I have to.
The worst part is, Iwantto talk to him. Now, more than ever. I want to fall into his arms and cry. Tell him everything.
Honestly? I wish he were here.
My gaze shifts back to my dad, a sudden wave of new emotion flooding in. This. Right here. It’s what matters.
The people in your life. The ones you love. The ones who love you.
AndGod,does Jensen love me.
I dig in my purse for ChapStick but come up empty. With a sigh, I pull the whole thing onto my lap, rummaging through the chaos. My hand brushes against the folded envelope Jensen gave me.
I pull it out and smooth it flat. My name is written across the front in his handwriting. My fingers tremble, and my heart pounds so loud it drowns out the machines.
I want to tear it open, but I’m frozen. Terrified of what’s inside. I’m not even sure what I’m afraid of. That he’ll tell me he still loves me? Beg me to come back?
I already expect all of that.
