Page 139 of A Love That Broke Us
My heart feels shattered. Like it’s been split into a million pieces. And I don’t know if it’ll ever be whole again.
Leo doesn’t say anything as he works the espresso machine, givingme space. I’m sure that showing up on his doorstep ten minutes ago, sunglasses on, bloodshot eyes, tear-streaked face, wasn’t what he expected. It’s obvious that I’m not okay.
I still haven’t told anyone in Chicago, not even Michael. Because how embarrassing is that?Hey, you know how dad was an alcoholic and I knew all the signs? Yeah—somehow I ended up in the same situation Mom was in.
Leo sets the cappuccino in front of me, then leans back against the opposite counter, arms crossed. He studies me quietly, assessing, feeling out the situation. “Do you want to be left alone?” he asks, cautiously, one eyebrow cocked.
“No,” I say softly.
He nods, then says, “Do you want to tell me why you don’t want Michael to know you’re here?”
I force myself to look at him. “No,” I whisper.
A Mickey Mouse song plays behind me on the TV. Leo glances toward the living room, where Isla’s singing along, shouting the lyrics the best she can.
He puffs out a laugh, a small grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. I peek over my shoulder, then turn back to Leo—and the look in his eyes breaks me. It’s like every hope and dream I ever had with Jensen comes tumbling down all at once. Every wall I’ve built to block out the pain and denial crumbles, hitting me like a ton of bricks.
I let out a sob and then gasp for air. Leo’s arms wrap around me in an instant, pulling me up from the stool.
He hugs me tight, and I cry for everything I thought I’d have—a future with Jensen, kids, a family. For the man I believed would be the best dad in the world. He’s so good with kids. They love him. For everything I’ve lost, and for who we’ve become—a sliver of who we once were.
I soak Leo’s shirt, trembling in his arms. He rubs my back and tells me it’s okay, to let it all out.
God, this is embarrassing.He doesn’t even know why I’m upset.
I finally pull back, swiping at my eyes with both index fingers. “Sorry.” I manage, my voice shaky.
“Don’t be sorry, love. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough tocome here.” He scrubs a hand over his chin. “You know, you’re the closest thing I have to a sister. I’ve always felt like you filled that space for me after I moved here. Filled the void Chloe left when she died.”
Chloe is Leo’s twin sister. She died from Leukemia when they were seventeen.
He looks at me, steady. “You’re family, Alley. Whether you talk or not. Stay as long as you like. Whatever you need.”
I nod, choking out, “Thanks. I want to talk. I need your advice and your perspective.”
“You have my undivided attention.”
We move to the table, where he can still keep an eye on Isla but give me his full focus, and I tell him everything.
He listens, occasionally asking a question—soft, steady, patient.
There’s no judgment. No telling me what I should or shouldn’t do. That’s not his role. And while I know this isn’t a therapy session, he’d never take me as a patient anyway, it’s comforting to talk to someone who gets it. Who gets me.
Who won’t hate Jensen.
When I finally finish, Leo leans back in his chair, dragging a hand over his face.
He exhales sharply. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, Alley.”
“What do I do?”
He chuckles softly. “You know I can’t tell you what to do—whether to stay or leave. I can’t do that. But I will say this… your pain is real. And you can still love someone and decide they’re not good for you right now. What’s your gut telling you?”
“I’m not sure,” I say, staring at my hands on the table. I force myself to meet his eyes. His expression is kind and understanding. “I’m not ready to give up yet. But I can’t—” The words catch in my throat. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s slowly killing me. I’m not fun anymore. I barely laugh. The joy’s been completely sucked out of me.”
Leo’s voice is quiet. “What do you miss the most?”
“I don’t know. Just… us. Me with Jensen. Being able to do nothing at home and still feel totally satisfied and happy. Before, my cup was always overflowing because it was so full.” I laugh softly, tears clinging to my lashes. “It sounds stupid, but we could literally be doing nothing and laugh our asses off. You know?”
