Page 82 of Enraged

I climbed in my car before he could ask any more questions, the scent of Jace’s cologne smacking me in the face.

Why the fuck does my car smell like him?

I pulled out of my driveway with one destination in mind: Dakota’s house.

You are officially batshit crazy.

Cranking the music up to drown out my voice of reason, I drove straight to Dakota’s street.

You’re gonna have to open the garage door to even see if she’s there, Jolene.

When my voice of reason starts using my government name, I know I’ve gone too far, but I lifted my center console, anyways. With the compartment opened, I fumbled around inside, feeling around for the garage door opener he had given me years ago.

The rumble strips vibrated underneath my tires.

Keep your eyes on the road, bitch.

While cussing myself mentally for having a cluttered car, I finally located the device. Pulling up into his driveway, I pressed the button to open his garage. Within seconds, the door began to lift, revealing a certain black Ford Escape.

She’s here.

I pressed the button again to close the door before putting my car in reverse.

You are officially insane.

Leaving his street, I drove towards town, unsure of where I was actually going from here. I passed by the church where my world had stopped turning.

How does that feel like it happened five minutes ago and five weeks ago, all at the same damn time.

I was still supposed to be on my honeymoon, living in perfectly matched newlywedded bliss and somehow, I’m riding around stalking my former best friend who was sleeping with my fiancé because I’m pissed that she’s sleeping with her own fiancé who is my former fiancé’s best friend.

If you listen reeeeeaally closely, you’ll hear “Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!”

I turned into the old Save- A- Lot parking lot to give myself a minute. I could feel myself getting worked up and the way my anxiety is set up…

I looked around the car for five things I could touch, smell, and feel.

Steering wheel… air freshener… satin hair scrunchie on the rearview… Jace’s suitcase…

Jace’s suitcase.

That’s why it smells like his cologne in here.

In all the chaos, I had forgotten that he had it in here so we could leave straight for the cabin.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I crept out of the parking lot. I didn’t want to see him, but I didn’t want his stuff anywhere near me.

I cruised down the road I had driven many, many times before eventually turning onto the pathway that led to the house that I once considered my own. Tears threatened when I pulled into my spot as I took in the way that nothing outside of the house had changed. The rocking chairs were situated the way I had put them; the little Christmas trees were still on the porch. The wreath I had made at a local boutique still hung on the door, proudly bearing the name I was so excited to take. As I stared at the house that I had found and picked out, I allowed myself a few minutes to grieve.

I grieved for the choices I didn’t get to make, and the ones I had made far too wrong.

I grieved for the future I had planned to a T, and the one I couldn’t plan now at all.

I grieved for the feeling of knowing I was loved and for the worry I’d never really felt it at all.

I grieved for the trust I’d given so freely and for the fear that I’d never trust again.

I grieved for my best friend and the lifetime we’d spent together and for the lifetime we would now spend apart.

---