Page 130 of A Love That Broke Us
I glance over my shoulder with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t youdaretell me to calm down!”
Charging into the great room, I find Jensen lying on thecouch. He’s exactly how I expected. Sweaty. Shaky. Pale. Eyes sunken and dark. He looks like death.
The second I see him, everything inside me erupts. My body and soul split in two. It’s out of body—like I’m watching this girl completely lose her shit. But it’s not me. It can’t be. I don’t feel it. I’m not in control. I’m just a witness.
My eyes lock on Jensen, and my body moves before I even register it. “You lying asshole!” I grab the nearest throw pillow and hurl it at him. He winces, covering his head. I know even the slightest graze against his skin hurts like hell right now.
Good.
Because all I want to do is hurt him. Like he’s hurt me.
“Alley…” His voice is raw, grated and small. His eyes squeeze shut, the way they always do when the shame creeps in. He starts crying. Again. And even though I know detoxing from opioids causes emotional waves—I don’t care. Not right now. In fact, it only makes me angrier.
“You think you get to be sad?” I scream. “You think you get to feel bad?” I scoff. “Get up!”
His eyes open, finally meeting mine. They’re full of moisture. Bloodshot. Glassy. We stare at each other—our pain staring the other down with full-on hatred.
But it’s not hatred.
It’s love.
A love so deep it hurts.
A love that’s been shaken to the core.
Battered. Bruised.
A love that was too good to be true.
A love that broke us.
My soul slams back into my body, awareness settling like dust after an explosion. And when I look into his eyes—really look—it’s me again. Me, Alley. His wife. Not just rage in a body. And the wall I’ve built to hold all this resentment comes crashing down.
The tears burst out of me, seeping through every crack that’s formed over the past year. I cry so hard I can hardly breathe, let alonespeak. I don’t know how long it lasts, but I’m aware that Christy, Matt, and now Tom are all watching. Watching…
As Jensen and I break.
You know that part of the storm—when it gets worse right before it gets better? You panic, rushing outside to save whatever might blow away or break.
Then, moments later it’s over. Just like that, it’s gone. It calms. The sky clears, and the quiet settles in, like nothing ever happened. But the wreckage is left as evidence. Furniture tipped over. Debris scattered. The damage is done.
That’s us.
That’s me.
A heavy numbness settles in, erasing all emotion like it was never even there. But the mess proves otherwise. It’s a fucking disaster.
And so am I.
A breath fills my lungs as my eyes look past Jensen, my voice flat. “Get up. We’re going home.” It’s not soft. There’s no comfort. Just duty.
I avoid all eye contact as I turn to leave. Passing Matt, I whisper, “Matt, get him in the car.”
Christy follows me to the door. “Alley, please.”
“Don’t,” I snap, without even looking at her.
“Alley, can we just talk?”
