Page 13 of What We Broke

I look over my shoulder, the sight of him in oil-stained jeans and a hoodie has the blood flowing beneath my veins rising to simmer, but it’s the broken look on his face that cools me right down.

I put that there. And I continue to put that there, and I don’t know how to stop.

I’m not purposefully trying to hurt him.

I don’t want the divorce because he’s a bad husband and I’ve fallen out of love with him. It’s actually the complete opposite.

I love him. So much it fucking hurts.

I will never love anyone the way I love this man, but it doesn’t fix the soul-shattering pain our daughter’s death brought about.

The simplicity of it all is that I can’t come back from it.

I don’t know how, or I don’t want to, I’m not completely sure. But I know it is absolutely unfair to keep a man as wonderful as Jesse Hunt plastered to my side in the hopes that the old me will return.

Jesse walks into the room, the space feeling smaller almost immediately. He sits on the sofa beside me, eyes dancing around my face. “I wanted you home, Leo. I wanted you grieving,with me,at home.”

We haven’t done a lot of talking since Lola died. Unless alcohol was involved, we converse through other people and with others around. This is as private and direct as we are ever going to get, and he is waiting for me. Expectantly waiting for an explanation I can’t give him.

“I’m home,” I argue.

“Home,” he scoffs. “It hasn’t been home to you since Lola died. Six months later you left with a bag to go to Gio’s house and just never came back. Now you’re out there pretending to look for work or drinking just enough to be able to bring yourself home every night. And on the odd night where you decide to stay in, you’re holed up in your room, because you want a divorce and I gave you an ultimatum,” he snaps, the veins in his neck protruding the angrier he gets. “Not because you want to be there.”

Between Jesse and Gio, there was not a single lie told, and silence is my only defense.

“Really?” He runs his hands over his now red face. “I can’t believe you’ve got nothing to say.”

I glance at Dr. Sosa, expecting her to step in, but she doesn’t. There’s no more kid gloves and dancing around the obvious in this week’s session––she’s happy being here and watching me drown.

I should’ve expected it to come to a head at some point, because this is Jesse after all. He’s not known for his patience. And the fact that he has stood by formonthswhile I’ve drunk myself stupid and hidden from him at Gio’s house isn’t lost on me.

I’ve taken the disruption to our life and I’ve run with it. And unlike the man who would not take no for an answer when I didn’t want to date him, this Jesse is giving me space, giving me time, allowing me to grieve.

It was the right thing for him to do, despite it being against his nature to do so, and I don’t know if I love or hate him for it.

Jesus, I am such a fucking mess.

This is the problem. I can’t decide how I feel or what I want, and I’m taking Jesse on a fucking ride because of it.

For his sake and mine, I need him to let me go.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” I say truthfully. “I’ve told you it’s all too much for me. I can’t pretend to move on.”

“Who the fuck has moved on?” he bellows, and my whole body flinches.

It was a shitty thing to say, but it’s my truth. Our grief does not feel the same and it changed everything for me.

Jesse rises up from his seat in frustration and walks to the opposite end of the office, pacing the length of the room.

“I don’t know what we’re doing here,” he says, looking at Dr. Sosa, voice full of defeat. “Isn’t it supposed to get better?”

Slowly, she uncrosses her legs and places her notebook on the small table that sits in the middle of the room.

“Okay,” Dr. Sosa interrupts. “Let’s just take a minute before this gets too heated. I need you both to know that making the decision to come to therapy is a huge step for your relationship,” she praises. “While I can tell it’s difficult, it’s not unusual for my couples to want different outcomes and have differing feelings.” She darts her eyes between us. “Because of this I encourage both of you to commit to a period of time in therapy and we can potentially make some loose plans of what to do, depending on the outcome.”

I can’t help but shift my gaze to Jesse and find him already looking at me. There’s no hiding the hurt and desperation in his eyes, the urgent need for me to change my mind.

“I’m not saying it’s impossible to find common ground, but it should be noted we like to plan for when we don’t,” she says calmly. “I’ve noticed we’re up to our third session and disclosing anything beneath the surface has been really hard, for both of you. I am concerned about how we can move forward without either of you really being heard or seen.”

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