Page 61 of Come Home to Me

“I don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse,” Jason continues. “But that’s the story as I heard it.”

“When did you see him last?” I manage, wondering about all the texts I never sent, all the calls that never came. What does it all mean? What do I do next? Part of me misses the certainty of Old Sarah. The answer would have been simple. What do I do next? Leave. The answer was always leave. Now? It’s so much more complicated. I stay and I fight and maybe I get hurt, but at least I know I tried.

Jason shoves his hands in his pockets, his suitcoat flaring over his wrists. “Saturday afternoon. I couldn’t get him to answer his phone, so I stopped by his apartment. It was a mess. He was a mess.”

Despite the memory of Frank’s messy living room, of his disheveled hair and face, hope rushes through me.

I knew Frank didn’t sleep with Bree.

I knew it.

Him saying he did is the same asshole move I used to make when I wanted to push someone away. Time and time again, I’d combust, say something awful, and then sit in indignant self-righteousness as I got exactly what I wanted—for everyone to leave me alone—all while pretending the world was out to get me.

Jason stares down at the floor before clearing his throat and looking me in the eyes. “Anyway,” he says, “for what it’s worth, he swears he’s done with the drinking. I watched him pour everything down the drain. He promised this wasn’t a relapse, it was just a couple days’ worth of bad decisions.”

I search for words around the buzzing in my brain. “That’s good. I mean, it’s really great.”

Jason puts a hand on my arm. “You haven’t heard from him, have you?”

I shake my head and suck in my lips, desperate not to cry.

He sighs and shakes his head, looking disappointed in his friend. “Frank is head over heels for you.”

“You’ll have to excuse me if I call bullshit on that. It doesn’t feel like I rank very high on his list right now.”

“I wouldn’t give up on him yet. I understand you haven’t known him long enough to know for sure which of the two Franks you’ve met is the real him, but I have. This one? The douchebag who drinks and says shitty things? That’s not him.”

“I know. I don’t know how I know, but I do. It’s just this quiet voice inside me, whispering. Telling me I need to talk to him because this isn’t over. And it’s so rare for that voice to ever say anything nice. I feel like I should listen.”

Jason smiles and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Then listen. Drive right on over to his apartment, make him hear everything you have to say, and then kick him in the balls for being such a dickhead.”

I laugh despite myself. “That sounds like a fabulous idea.”

“Believe me. It is.” Jason hugs me and then pulls away, a wicked smile quirking the corners of his mouth. “Oh, and Sarah?”

“Yeah?”

“While you’re there, kick him once for me. Just for good measure.”

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