Each step up is a choice. A commitment.
I’ll be there for her even when she’s convinced she doesn’t deserve it. Even when she thinks her mistakes are irreparable.
My perfectly imperfect Jackie.
I hear her before I find the room she’s in: frantic steps, clattering hangers, and the low rustle of fabric.
The bedroom door is ajar, a warm sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Inside, she stands frozen, staring at the empty dressing room, her back to me, shaking.
This is the epicenter of the storm. Chaos in its purest form.
The click of the door behind me makes her flinch, and her shoulders slump.
“Jackie,” I say gently, stepping closer. “Look at me.”
She shakes her head, a broken sob wracking her frame as she folds in on herself. “Please leave,” she whispers. “I can’t take any more of this.”
Leaving isn’t an option now. She doesn’t need distance, she needs the truth.
I move carefully, closing the distance between us with each step. I don’t touch her, even if my hand hovers near her waist, aching to feel her.
Leaning in, my breath moves wild strands of hair at the back of her head, and she trembles.
And then, in the quiet between her shuddered breaths, with my lips grazing the delicate curve of her ear, I whisper, “Stop punishing yourself for what happened.”
With each exhale, my chest grazes her back, and it takes everything in me not to pull her into my arms.
“I kept hoping you’d come back after you’d… sorted things out. For years.”
Her mugs traveled with me through every home I’ve lived in. Her favorite blanket. Little pieces, waiting for her.
“But I had no idea what was going through your mind.”
She sniffs, fists clenched by her sides, still not looking at me.
Maybe it’s too soon. But I’m done living in limbo.
Jackie lifts her head, and when she finally looks at me, I almost drown in the storm roiling behind her eyes. Tears cling to her lashes. She’s never looked more vulnerable. Or more beautiful.
“I know now how hard it was for you back then,” I say. “Crushed between your father’s expectations. And your own.”
I reach out, just barely, and run my finger down her arm. A microscopic point of contact.
“No space to breathe. No room for errors. And feelings are the worst, isn’t that right, baby?” A tender smile pulls at the corners of my lips.
She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t pull away, but after a heartbeat, she leans into me. Only a little.
Enough to tell me to stay.
Chapter Thirty-Four
JACKIE
Why did I ever buy this dress? It’s hideous. Wrong. Everything feels wrong.
And do I need that many shoes? Of course I do.
My brain’s spinning, tangled in the chaos I made, and I can’t seem to catch my breath.
