Page 129 of A Love That Broke Us
“And?”
“Jensen’s not in Boston.”
Silence.
“He’s at Tom and Christy’s.”
His parents?
I gawk at him, then grab my clutch. “Drive me.”
I start walking, but when I look back, Matt’s still standing there.
“Now,” I snap.
He exhales hard and follows me toward the car.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
ALLEY
THEN
The driveto Tom and Christy’s has been long and mostly quiet. I’ve managed to keep most of the rage storming through me bottled up. I ranted for a few minutes when we first got in the car. Matt let me do my thing. He listened, validated. But since then, I’ve just stared out the window, letting the silent tears that feel like a daily part of my life now streak down my face.
As we get closer, the anger starts to stir again, rising and bubbling up—ready to explode like a bottle of champagne shaken one too many times.
“Hey,” Matt says gently, breaking the silence. His hand rubs my shoulder. “You sure you wanna do this now? I could drive you back tomorrow… after some sleep. After you’ve sobered up.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” My gaze stays locked on the blur of lights outside the window.
“Okay. If you’re sure.” He squeezes my shoulder once more and then turns into the neighborhood.
My stomach flips and twists, nerves coiling—the kind that make you feel claustrophobic. The kind that press heavy against your chest. The kind that feel like someone’s hand is around your throat,squeezing and cutting off your air. The kind that make you wonder if you’re having a heart attack because your pulse is so out of control, something has to be wrong.
I keep thinking I’ve felt it all. That nothing else can shock me. Jensen lying? I’m not surprised. Sadly, that’s becoming routine. But his mom? That’s new. Christy covering for him? I still can’t believe it. And the thing that pisses me off most? She texted me last night. She asked when Jensen would be back from Boston.
It’s worse than Jensen lying. He’s an addict. I’m learning to expect that from him. He has areason. What’s her excuse? She’s texting me, to what? Throw me off? That’s a whole new level of low. And it’s a gut punch to my pride I didn’t see coming.
We pull into the driveway, and before Matt even fully shifts into park, I’m throwing the door open. I don’t wait. I don’t think.
“You’re coming,” I say over my shoulder firmly. I don’t even look at him. I just keep walking.
I’m halfway up the walkway before Matt gets out of the car. I hear his door slam shut just as I reach the porch. I punch in the code for the lock, the sound of the deadbolt barely registering. The second it clicks, I shove the door open.
I storm inside—a tornado of rage, ready to blow through anything standing in my way. Christy’s the first victim. She rounds the corner from the kitchen.
“Alley, what a pleasant?—”
“Don’t you fucking talk to me!” I shout. “Where is he?” I don’t wait for a response. I’m already moving toward our bedroom, charging down the hall.
“Alley, stop. Let’s talk.”
I swing the door open. He’s not there. Slamming it shut, I whirl past Christy, ignoring her like she’s invisible.
“Alley. Please. Calm down.”
Calm down? Is she serious?
