I shake my head. “Firefighters and their gossip.”
Giving me another discerning look and deciding I’m no longer dangling over the edge of a mental breakdown, Theo pats my shoulder and retreats back to her seat. “It’s not always a bad thing,” she claims. “The gossiping, I mean.” She taps her blunt fingernails against her ceramic mug. “I understand why you wouldn’t want to share what happened. Taking that shit home…Sometimes we need to leave it here, right? There’s plenty that I haven’t shared with Cherise, but you do need to talk to someone.”
“I did,” I admit reluctantly. “I saw the counselor over in Ashland. I’ve got another appointment next week. And?—”
“You know, not sharing with Cherise is my choice. I’ve told her that I don’t want some things to darken our lives, and she accepts that. As long as I take care of my mental health, she doesn’t worry abouthowI do it.” Theo takes a moment to sip her coffee, slowly setting it back down. “But it would be disrespectful of me to share those experiences and feelings with someone else. Especially someone who had history with me, or more than a friendly interest.”
I settle back, pinning an unimpressed glare on her. “Who have you been talking to?”
Theo shakes her head. “Does it matter?”
My chest feels like a dam about to burst, and there’s no stopping the words flowing out. “Paisley…Our fathers were firefighters together. After Nick and I were born within a couple of months of each other, our families just naturally grew really close, you know? They had a lot in common. So, when I say I’ve known Paisley forever, it’s not an exaggeration. There are pictures somewhere of me and Nick drawing on her face as a baby.” Theo’s lips twitch, but I barely notice. “She followed us around all the time, and we never minded. She was one of us. Iknewher. But now…”
“Now what?” Theo prods quietly.
“I thought she was that same person, but it turns out that I don’t know her at all.”
Theo watches me for a long moment. “It doesn’t matter if she’s the same or not, Brax. She’s not the problem. Well, she’s not thewholeproblem.” She grimaces. “What matters right now is your choices, and how your actions affect the people around you.”
“Right,” I murmur, before blurting, “We’re not over. Gracie and I. She said we were done, but that could mean anything.” I can hear the desperation in my voice, but I can’t shut myself up. “I still have her apartment key, and she has mine. Her stuff is still at my place.” I blink rapidly, trying to clear the haziness from my eyes. “We’re not over.”
Theo does one slow blink. “Who are you trying to convince?” She sips her coffee and then reaches across the table, snagging a magazine someone left at the other end. She flips it open to a crossword. “Hey, Brax. Question.”
“What?”
“You ever heard of micro-cheating? Or emotional cheating?” I frown, shaking my head, but Theo doesn’t look up from the crossword. “You should look it up.”
New Year’sEve comes by quickly, even when every minute drags by, each one punctuated by my ever-silent phone.
No one will tell me how Gracie is or if she’s even okay, and it feels like mental torture, but one I definitely deserve.
I spent the rest of my shift after my conversation with Theo thinking about what she said. Even thinking the termcheatingwas enough to make my skin crawl, remembering the way my mom had also thrown that word at me like an arrow aiming for a bullseye.
I went home and looked it up, coming across the blog of someone called Mia, whose husband had an emotional affair with their neighbor. Apparently, the neighbor’s husband passed away, so Mia’s husband, Dallas, started going next door, doing jobs around the house for her—painting a room, fixing a fence, repairing appliances.
According to the blog, the change had been slow—so gradual that it almost slipped past Mia, unnoticed. It was small things at first. Dallas spent more time on his phone, laughing at messages, but never sharing the jokes. He began neglecting his responsibilities at the house, forgetting the small things that used to anchor him and Mia together. She said he used to make her a coffee in a thermos every morning for her drive to work, but one day, he just stopped.
Mia was going through a big project at work, and it kept her late regularly, so Dallas started eating with theneighbor, Kirsten, and that eventually turned into early evening walks together and weekend outings. She claimed that she didn’t think too much of it at first, sympathetic for everything that Kirsten had lost. And after eight years of marriage, she had absolute trust in Dallas.
But then he started to grow distant, avoiding her eyes and reluctant to commit to plans with Mia or spend time together. Dallas stopped sleeping with her, stopped kissing or hugging her, and when he locked his phone the moment she entered a room, her suspicion boiled over, fraying her trust in him.
She confronted him, and Dallas confessed. He told Mia that he had fallen in love with Kirsten, but he hadn’t cheated. He insisted that they never crossed a physical line, but their relationship had become intimate in a different, deeper way.
And that was so much worse, Mia wrote at the end of her last post.Because sharing your body is one thing, but sharing your mind, your emotions…? I can never forgive him for that.
I read through each post several times, a sick sort of realization sliding down my throat to settle in my stomach like churning acid. I shut Gracie out after the accident happened, pretending everything was normal while hiding away parts of myself, not wanting the horror of that day—of Allison’s death—to touch her.
The day I went to the counselor, everything felt hazy after my session, every minute detail of the accident at the forefront of my mind. When Paisley had sat across from me, sympathetic and understanding, it felt like…reliefto let it all spill out.
I didn’t love Paisley or want her. She was just a remnant from my past, removed enough that there was no risk to me by doing it, especially when the one person I couldn’t share it with was Gracie.
Not without letting it weigh her down too.
So, I minimized her feelings, reassuring myself that she was reading too much into what Paisley said at Thanksgiving. I convinced myself that it was because Paisley understood, and that I wasn’t hurting anyone—not really. I was just trying to fix myself because Gracie deserved me at my best, didn’t she?
You think my marriage to your mother has been sunshine and rainbows?My father’s voice cuts through my thoughts.We lean on each other, Braxton. We share our burdens. You’re choosing to cut Gracie out of something important, and then acting like that doesn’t matter.
I stare at the potted plant sitting on my side table—the only one I own. Gracie gifted it to me after our third date, joking about it being a “love fern,” like that movie she likes to rewatch, and the silence feels heavier than ever. I pick up my phone, finding my message thread with her, filled with my unread messages.
