Page 30 of Breaking
His lips pressed into a thin line. For a few moments, she wasn't sure if he would answer. Then, finally, he gave a stiff nod. "Fine."
Grace placed a gentle hand on Dylan's shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on them, Jenna. You don't have to worry."
Jenna offered her a grateful look. "Thank you."
As she climbed into the car, she took one last glance at the house. It wasn't hers. But in the past week, it had started to feel like home in a way Brighton never had.
The house was quiet when Jenna walked in. She set her bag down and sighed, trying to push back the exhaustion threatening to overtake her. But it didn't take long before the silence was broken.
She heard Troy's Audi pull in, blocking her Honda. So, this conversation was going to happen right away.
Troy stepped inside, hesitating in the doorway. For the first time in a long time, she felt the weight of his gaze fully on her, uncertain, searching.
"What happened?" he asked, voice low.
"Car accident," Jenna said simply, brushing past him toward the kitchen. She opened the fridge, noting the lack of any fresh groceries. Of course.
"I didn't expect you'd be gone so long," Troy continued, following her, watching her movements.
Jenna turned sharply, her patience at end. She made eye contact for the first time.
"What did you expect?" Her voice rose, the pain breaking through like an unstoppable tide. "Sasha is dead. Do you understand? She's gone!"
Troy's mouth opened, but nothing came out at first. She had never shouted at him like this before. "I... I'm sorry."
Jenna let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Oh, spare me the platitudes. Just admit it-you never let me invite her here. You never wanted to meet her. My best friend, Troy, and I couldn't even have her at my wedding because you made it clear she didn't belong. Don't make me tell you what your sorry is worth."
Troy flinched but didn't argue. He exhaled slowly. "That's not-" he stopped himself, shaking his head. "Jenna, what's going on? What's happening?"
Jenna pushed forward before he could catch up. "I've spent the last week making arrangements for Dani and Dylan. I need to be with them right now."
Troy absorbed this, his brow furrowing, but he didn't explode. "Jenna, if you're going to bring two kids into our lives, maybe we should discuss it first."
The tension in the room thickened instantly, Jenna's eyes narrowing. "Discuss it? Do you mean to get your approval? Do I need permission to do what's right, Troy? Or should I just forget them like our child who never was?" Her voice was sharp, cutting through the room like a blade.
Troy shook his head, exhaling. "That's not what I meant-"
"No, I think it is," Jenna cut in coldly. "And you know what? I don't have the patience for this." She turned on her heel and strode toward the hallway.
"Jenna-" Troy started, but she was already gone. Jenna walked past him, heading upstairs without another word. She closed the guest bedroom door behind her and leaned against it, her chest heaving with silent, angry sobs. She knew now, more clearly than ever, that there was nothing left to salvage.
The sharp slam of the guest room door echoed through the house, making Troy flinch.
Troy looked after her, and for the first time in a long time, he felt he was fighting a losing battle. "That's not what I meant. I don't want to lose you, Jenna," he whispered to no one in particular.
For the first time, it was starting to sink in that Jenna might not forgive or forget.
Chapter 28
Jenna
The next morning, Jenna woke early, her resolve hardened. Her babies were all grown up. Max and Lilly were adults, capable of looking after themselves, and she no longer felt the need to explain herself to anyone. Her wedding rings sat on the dresser, and she slipped them into a small envelope. Sealing it, she wrote "Troy" on the front and put it in her pocket. The guest room was dimly lit, the air heavy with unspoken words from the night before. She zipped up a second bag, carefully tucking her laptop and art supplies inside. This was all she would take. Everything else-the remnants of a life built around Troy-could stay behind.
Her fingers hesitated over a small box buried in the bottom of the dresser. She lifted the lid, revealing old letters, concert tickets, and a small photograph creased at the edges. In it, she and Troy stood outside her university dorm, their younger selves frozen in time.
A memory crashed over her, vivid and raw.
It had been raining that night. She had been crying when he knocked on the door.
