She breaks.
A whimper escapes the back of her throat, likely stuck there for God knows how long, as she finally accepts defeat, giving in to the hurt, giving in to the heartbreak, giving in to the pain.
“She doesn’t want me.” Four words I’m certain I heard her say through it all, but I tell myself I’m hearing things, because there’s no way somebody wouldn’t want her.
Melting into the t-shirt clinging to my chest, she soaks it with tears, and I hold her tight.
“I’ve got you,” I say, but I so badly want to tell her that whoever she’s talking about is crazy for not wanting her.
Because I do.
IwantJennifer Rogers.
Chapter thirty
Jenna
He came.
Without questions, without complaint.
Without an ulterior motive.
And I can’t understand why.
He doesn’t owe me anything.
I don’t know why I texted him, either, but I’ve told myself it’s because Cassandra is away, and I needed someone to lean on. And in that moment, he was my someone.
Out of the blue, I craved to be comforted by the person I’d only ever looked at in a sexual way, but right then, needing him made sense.
He got my text at midnight, and barreled through my door like a madman, scooping me up into his arms. He had no idea why I needed him.
But still, he came.
My text to him was vague. It could’ve been taken in any context, but Cole…he read it in the way that I so desperately needed him to.
I spent my flight back home picturing my mom’s face in my apartment as she’d collapsed, and how guilty I’d felt. And every time I remembered what her body looked like on the ground, I reminded myself of what she’d said to me when I gave her a forced hug goodbye.
‘I don’t need you here, Jenna. I don’t even want you here. But good thing I have a job now, so insurance will cover all medical bills. I guess you came in handy, after all.’
My whole life, I hoped that the mom I had when I was younger still existed somewhere inside of her, but if it wasn’t already evident that she died along with my dad, it is now.
Did I feel guilty for taking her off my insurance policy? I threw up the moment I got back to my apartment after dinner with Margot, so, yeah.
I’m thirty-one-years-old, and I’m still letting my mom dictate my life, still letting her pick and choose when, and how, she shows me love.
But a love like the one I’ve been desperate to feel from her shouldn’t come with conditions.
But it always did.
But I can’t stand to lose the person I’m slowly becoming. The person Becky Rogers has absolutely no right to know.
She didn’t even want me to be there for her, but I told her I would. I told her I would quit the job I’ve wanted since I was a kid, just to make sure she was OK.
And she was going tolet me.
Even though she didn’t want me there, she was going to let me leave it all behind to take care of someone who hasn’t cared about me for over two decades.
