Page 85 of Falling for Fury

“You’re supposed to say that I wasn’t a bad sister,” I tease.

“No. You were.” Guilt settles in my stomach at her words. “But it’s okay. I still like you. Plus, I like this apartment. I want to come visit, so I need you to like me, too.” I laugh as she pulls away and shakes off the hug, officially uncomfortable with the show of affection.

“I still like you, weirdo,” I remind her.

“Okay, are we done with emotions? Can we go get some dinner?” Riley sobers us and we stand from the couch. Mom gives me a soft smile, nodding. I nod back. Like an acknowledgement.

The moment marking a change for the future. Boundaries in place, hearts on the path to healing, and all our futures looking just that little bit brighter.

Addison

Six months have passed, leaving summer and fall behind, winter now in full swing, my favorite time of the year because, Christmas! This year was like trekking new ground, unsure what the landscape looked like, but it ended up being a joyous event. We all gathered at Matt and Ava’s place, and by all, I mean the Jenkins clan in full–minus Dad. He was found guilty on all counts and sentenced to twenty years, but JJ showed up with dessert and wine!

We laughed, ate, and gave gifts like the happy family we haven’t been in a really long time. We didn’t talk about any of the crap that went down earlier in the year; instead, we enjoyed the moments for what they were.

My birthday came and went. Rosie’s first go at a start to finish edit for a title, which she calls her baby, was released and has topped charts everywhere. Casey and her sister opened a new studio on the Upper East Side, now giving them one studio to run each. So many things have changed. Everything with my family feels like a lifetime ago, but we’ve all been better. Riley comes out regularly, and we’ve gotten much closer, to the point she has now decided she would like to move to the city. Where she will live is currently undecided as she remains on a college hiatus, pending scholarship applications. Mom is enjoying a singles cruise while Dad enjoys his cell, and Ava and Matt are now awaiting the arrival of baby number two, due in May.

Lucas gave me an operations manager role and put me on permanent full-time employment, as I made the final decision not to sit for the Bar. The lawyering world wasn’t for me. I love the random jobs popping up in the bar work and it keeps me on my toes. Between the late-night bar work and the general running of the business during the day, it feels a lot more satisfying. Now I have the choice of working from home, at JJ’s, or from my office at Bozzelli’s.

After the emergency appointment back in July, I retained my weekly therapy appointments. I’ve taken up boxing as a regular outlet to funnel my rage. My therapist’s advice was to give myself an outlet, even when I don’t feel it taking over, giving me more capacity to handle it when it does spike. Between the boxing and the running, it’s been a lot more manageable. I brought Casey with me to a few classes, and now she is looking into a variation of the boxing and self-defense classes to incorporate into her new studio. Of course, Rosie had declared there was no need for her to attend, she has a strenuous outlet regularly enough as it is.

I’ve kept Noah at a distance. A physical distance, at least. He still plagues my thoughts every other hour, and the hollowness I feel in my chest hasn’t reduced, no matter how hard I try. I haven’t dated otherwise, wouldn’t even think of it. I can’t say the same for him, a part of me hoping he never does, no matter how selfish I know that is.

He texts me almost daily, he and JJ have also apparently become chummy, and it’s annoying how much that makes my heart sing. JJ reckons Noah will keep messaging me every day until I ‘stop breaking his balls and give in already.’ The first month, I held back from my replies, but his ability to break down every one of my walls and make my heart skip in my chest eventually broke me and now I respond. In denial probably, but I’m convincing myself that we’re friends, if only because I’m pretending I want space, and that I don’t lie awake at night wishing his hard warm body was curled around me, while his big hands explore and make me feel all the things, saying all those sweet nothings he is so good at saying.

It’s not like I haven’t seen him at all in six months. I first ran into him at JJ’s–I’m sure it was staged on his part–about four months ago. It was surprisingly easy, despite fighting the urge to go to him and have him hold me. I almost, almost, dropped a tear, but his sex-smirk and deep chocolate eyes winded me, stirring all the old familiar feelings and sending bolts of energy south. But nothing was awkward. He gave me a kiss on each cheek, threw a heart stopping, ‘Hey, beautiful,’ before winking and walking out. He followed up that same afternoon with a text telling me I still smell as sweet as strawberries and that he misses me. From there, I gave in bit by bit. He has come running with me a few times. I see him at the bar when he comes with the guys for a beer or when he is there for work with Lucas.

Despite how badly I miss him, us, I’m proud of myself for sticking by my decision. This time for myself has been good. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to learn awareness, learning about boundaries, and when I’m capped emotionally. The space I needed to work on myself, to learn about myself. I tell myself I won’t be hurt if Noah moved on, but the truth is, it would still break me in two. All the self-love in the world couldn’t stop that.

While I feel like I have learnt more about myself in six months of constant therapy and boundary setting than I have in the now twenty six years I’ve been alive, the string that ties my heart to Noah’s has never been tighter. He remains the only person still making it past these boundaries, making me miss him endlessly while still being his usual charming, kind, and sexy self. I have days, or sometimes weeks, where I forget why I initiated this break in the first place.

He sends me basketball stats and gives me reviews on the espresso martinis at any new bars he tries. He sends me snaps of Caleb, Ethan, and Lucas with ‘wish you were here’ notes. Everything he does reminds me of why I fell in love with him.

That was the most recent one, followed by a photo of a basket of strawberries at the local market. He managed to hold it open under his chin, the photo framing his goofy smile and deep brown eyes. That photo, after setting it as my phone wallpaper, I had stared at for about sixty minutes while I cried. What started as happy tears at his ridiculously happy face ended up being tears of longing to a point I was so confused by the decisions I’d made I needed an emergency therapy appointment.

“Hi Addy, how have you been this week?” Rhea, my therapist, says from the other side of Zoom. My laptop sits on my lap as I prop myself up on my bed, the blinds open as the early January winter sun tries to warm up the room, my tissues on the side table in preparation for some mental healing.

“Not bad, work has been busy, we just hired a new chef so had some tastings and new wine pairings for the restaurant.” Rhea nods and smiles but presses on.

“And how are you, Addison?” Goddamnit.

“Ugh.” I cover my face and throw my head back.

“Alright, I know that look. Tell me, let’s unpack.” She never lets me get away with anything.

“It’s Noah.” I told her about everything that went down between my family, Noah, Matt, Jessie, even updated her after I caught up with Mom and Riley. She knows everything. She had at the time congratulated me for how I handled it all. Despite what a colossal mess it felt like, she told me I was brave, how proud of me she was for acknowledging what I needed and being strong enough to go after it, no matter how much it hurt.

“Tell me more about that,” she presses.

“I… I feel like I miss him. I just… I wish I could have him here. Have him hold me and say all those nice things again. Every time I think about him, my heart hurts a little. Like an ache.” She nods at me but says nothing. “It feels like I’m failing myself if I give in and go back to him. I can’t quite tell if this is just the normal part of breaking up with someone or if it’s because I made a mistake.” Breaking up doesn’t feel like what we did. I really hate saying those words. “I thought I did this for a reason, giving us space, but now I can’t remember why and I’m about to give in.” Breaking up with Jake was solid ground. He fucked up–was a complete ass–and we ended things. Never speaking until I ran into him at Maplewood and again when he ambushed me. There were no leftover or residual feelings or confusing thoughts, no remaining friendship that made me ache. This break with Noah was so, so, so different. So much hurt still.

“But did you really have space?”

“Well, yeah…”

“How often have you seen him since the day you ended things?”

“Recently… I guess I see him every few days. He is really good to go running with… super motivational.” Because he is sex on legs and he wears that backwards cap, and if we run in a gym because the winter air is too cold, he sometimes wears no shirt and… yum.

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