Page 107 of A Love That Broke Us
That doesn’t just happen. Not without help.
My heart skips a beat. Maybe he finally turned a corner. Maybe it’s nothing—but my gut won’t let it go. It feels too soon.
I fall to my side, head sinking into the pillow, facing Jensen. I think about waking him, but I don’t want to disturb the sleep he’s finally getting.
Maybe he took an edible.He’s got a stash ofthose. Sometimes he uses them to sleep. That would help.Yeah. That’s probably what he did.
But the furrow in my brow won’t ease, and my pulse starts to climb. There’s a tug in my chest—a longing for him to pull me close, to hold me, to make love to me. To make everything okay. For both of us.
My eyes trace the details of his face, and the love I feel for him is so strong it almost hurts. I wipe at my nose, catching the tear that slips down my cheek. He’s right here.
But I miss him.
God, I miss him.
Chapter Thirty-Two
MATT
THEN—ONE YEAR AGO
AUGUST
I takea sip of my whiskey, licking my lips as I set the glass down on the bar top.
The place is packed—live music playing way too loud, sports highlights flashing on every screen, and way too many damn people.
Guys night was Jensen’s idea, since Alley went to dinner with Scarlett. I figured we’d have a few drinks, catch up, unwind. But instead, I can’t stop watching him, and not in a good way. We’ve only been here twenty minutes, but something feels… off.
Jensen can’t seem to sit still. He’s twitchy, jittery, unfocused. It’s almost like he’s tweaking. I’ve seen it before, in college, sophomore year, when Tyler couldn’t stop popping Percs. The exact same energy—not to mention, Jordan’s dad was an addict. He spent her entire trust fund on gambling and drugs by the time she’d turned eighteen. I don’t know what the fuck he’s been taking, but Jesus, he’s on something. He’s acting like a complete wack-job.
I watch his toes bounce against the bar stool, his fingers tapping like he’s Beethoven pounding out a fucking masterpiece, right here atthe bar. Don’t even get me started on the fact that he hasn’t heard a goddamn word I’ve said.
He swipes a bead of sweat off his forehead, glancing down at his phone for the fiftieth time since we sat down.
Jesus Christ.
“Everything good, man?” I ask, trying to keep my cool—becausewhat the fuck?
“Yeah, I’m good. Sorry, Alley was texting.”
He doesn’t make eye contact. It’s not the first time he’s acted off these past few months. And even though Alley swears everything’s fine at home, I know better. I’m not stupid.
I know Jensen. Hell, I’d bet I know him better than she does. Sure, she’s got me beat on the intimate stuff. But all the other parts of him? I fucking know this guy. And he hasn’t been himself for a while now.
Jensen’s fingers tap against his screen. This alone isn’t like him. Sure, he’s a social guy, but he’s also the type to give you his undivided attention when he’s with you. And Alley’s not the type to blow up his phone while she’s out with Scarlett. She’s never been needy like that—unless something’s wrong.
“You sure?” I ask.
He doesn’t even hear me.
“Jensen,” I say, louder this time.
His head snaps up.
“What the fuck, dude? You’re distracted as hell. You got something you need to take care of? Because I didn’t come here to watch you text all night.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry. You’re right.” He flips his phone face down, finally looking at me—well, almost. His eyes never fully meet mine, they look past me. Toward the door.
