Jaxson is aware that my relationship with my dad is strained at best. He knows how I despise the way my dad treated women as disposable, even my grandmother and me. Yet instead of considering my feelings, he assumed I'd spend an awkward holiday with my dad and stepmom.
If he actually cared or even thought about me, he never would've done this. He let others into what was ours. What he's doing is nothing more than a pathetic, self-gratifying indulgence. The possibility of intimacy between us is gone because it makes me recoil to think he willingly shared himself with strangers despite our marriage. Everything we were, everything I believed in, is ruined.
What happens when hockey season ends and he comes home? Will I be happy to see him, or will all the anger and hurt harden into a wall between us? Will he expectthings to go back to the way they were before? Will I even be able to look at him the same way?
I try to imagine the future, but it offers no comfort. Only dread.
It's as if I'm standing at the base of a mountain I have no strength to climb. Just thinking about facing Jaxson after what he's done seems insurmountable.
How do I survive months of separation, betrayal, and humiliation, only for him to return and expect everything to be okay? Was this his way out all along? Or just the beginning of the end?
I blink and wait for the tears, but none come at first. I press my hand to my chest and feel the ache I've carried for so long finally loosen its grip. A weight I didn't realize I'd been carrying lifts, leaving a hollow stillness behind. For a moment, I think I might be free of it.
But the relief doesn't last.
Then the tears come slowly, quietly, tracing warm paths down my cheeks. Not heartbreak, but grief. A deep, aching sorrow for the loss of what we once were and will never be again. I know he still cares in his own lost way. But it's far too late for us now.
The damage is done.
Drying my eyes and firming my resolve, I take my suitcase out of the closet. I know what I must do now. I need to go home and gather my things. It's time to leave, focus on myself, tend to my wounds, and recover. Once my bag is ready, I place it and my purse behind the door.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I text Nita. She's having Christmas dinner with her family, but I know I can count on her for a lift. I'm not sure if ride services come out this far.
Me:Hey, Nita. Wish I'd listened to you.
Nita:Sorry, babes.
Me:Don't be. I needed the wake-up call. As much as it hurts, it finally pushed me to deal with it.
Me:Can you come pick me up? I need some space to think and start packing. I'm done.
Nita:It's about time. You know I've got you, Bestie. All my brothers are here for Christmas, the rest of the week. We'll get you packed and moved fast.
Send me your location.
Me:Sent. Thanks.
Nita:Got it. I'll be there in under 30 minutes.
There's no need to drag Bash into my personal issues just yet. I'll sit him down and explain once I've moved out and am in my own place.
In the meantime, if I know Jaxson as well as I think I do, this headline will send him into a panic, desperate to talk to me. His chance to do that was during the five months he chose to ignore my existence. Now, my absence, paired with my actions, will speak for itself, telling him everything he deserves to hear. I. Am. Done. Stupid man.
Tucking my cell into my pocket, I begin straightening the room, stripping the bed, and wiping down the bathroom counter. After I drop the used linens into the laundry basket, I turn toward the window to watch the snow fall while I wait for Nita. The quiet is almost soothing to my jagged nerves.
Then the bedroom door slams open, crashing into my suitcase and knocking it over. Bash storms inside, eyes blazing, jaw tight.
“Why didn't you tell me, Amelia?” he hisses, his tone simmering with quiet fury.
I freeze, stumbling back against the window seat, shocked by the venom in his voice. “What are you talking about?”
“Don't,” he snaps, jabbing a finger at me. “You think I'm stupid?”
“What's going on? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Don't play dumb with me. You're married…" He sucks in a jagged breath. "…tohim.”His voice drips with cold accusation. "Come clean. Why didn't you tell me?"
“I—I didn't think it mattered,” I stammer in confusion. I've never seen him like this before, and it rattles me. I expected him to be surprised, even starstruck, maybe ask for an autograph. Not this. Not like I've done something wrong. It leaves me speechless.
