Page 104 of A Love That Broke Us
I sink to the ground, leaning back against the cabinets. It’s too much. Everything swirls inside me, and an audible cry tumbles from my lips as I let myself fall apart.
My head tips back, and I feel the fear creep in–dark and black shadows of my past swirling into every corner of my mind, filling it with doubt and heartache.
The irony of it all—my dad finally coming back into my life just as I feel Jensen slipping away.
My reconnection with my dad was one of the best moments of my life. It was the first time I really listened to him, actually heard him. The first time I let the addict tell their story. It was heartbreaking.
It didn’t take away the hurt, or the years of aching for him, or the tainted memories, but it helped me understand.
He didn’t choose alcohol. Alcohol chose him.
As healing as it was, I still fear losing him again. It’s a vulnerable place to be, like I’ve opened myself up for target practice, just waiting for the arrow. I never thought I’d need a shield in my own home.
My heart breaks into a thousand little pieces. For me, for my dad, and for Jensen—the man that I love even more than myself.
Anger stirs with everything else inside me. I’mpissed—at the doctors, at our medical system, at the pharmaceutical companies, at Jensen. But mostly, I’m pissed at myself, for pushing away the warning signs. I should have seen this. I should have known. Maybe then Jensen wouldn’t be in there, going through hell.
I gasp for breath, my head pounding as I sit here, crying for what feels like hours until the sobs quiet. Until the sharp edge of panic dulls and a cold, heavy numbness settles in.
My head tips back, my chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Pieces of my last conversation with my dad resurface—how much he loved me and Michael. How much he loved my mom. That his addiction was never about us. We were what kept him going, kept him trying.
He told me if it weren’t for us, he would’ve ended up on the streets long ago. Just like that man I stepped over months ago.
My eyes squeeze shut, silent tears falling down my cheeks. I won’t let that happen to Jensen. I love him too much. And I know how much he loves me. Heneedsme. He’s already trying to make it right.
God, he’s already trying, and I’m out here instead of beside him.
I force myself into motion, picking up the broken glass. I run a finger along the chipped wood where the mug hit—a scar for this moment. One more mark left by addiction, carved not only into our home but into my heart, along with all the others.
I walk slowly toward our bedroom, my heart pounding, the tightness in my throat impossible to swallow.
I stop just outside the door, hesitating. Delaying the reality.
Once I step inside, there’s no going back. The Alley and Jensen I once knew will be gone—because once I walk through this door, it becomes real. No matter what happens next, even if we make it out stronger, we’ll never be the same.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, I steady myself and slip inside. The room feels heavier than it did before, the weight of the truth now lurking in the air. I walk over to the bed and lower myself beside him.
He winces, like even the subtle shift of the mattress sends an unbearable pain ripping through his body.
I bite down hard, trying to hold myself together. I have to be strong for him.
But it’s so hard to breathe.
My chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself. Like my heart is being squeezed in a vice that won’t let up. It’s too much.
I reach for his hand, gripping it tightly—like if I hold on hard enough, I can keep him from hurting.
“I know it’s Oxy,” I say, the words catching in my throat, thick and strangled.
His eyes squeeze shut, shame spreading across his face.
“Babe.” My voice breaks. “Look at me.”
He opens his eyes, his gaze meeting mine. The sorrow in them is so heavy—it nearly breaks me.
“I’m here.” My voice cracks, and I swallow hard. “I’m right… here.” I’m fully crying again. There’s no stopping it. “I’ve got you, okay? I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this. Together.”
His eyes fill, tears brimming, lips quivering as he whispers. “Promise?”
