Page 147 of A Love That Broke Us
She laughs, full and unfiltered—and there it is.
That fucking dimple.
Instantly, I’m taken right back to the first time I saw her. When I confessed my “problem” to my hot nurse. That dimple stole my heart before I even knew her name. The first time I kissed her, I knew I’d never get enough.
The first time I made love to her, I knew—without a doubt—I wanted her forever.
I’m an addict, after all. But I’ll never forget my first addiction.
Alley.
Chapter Forty-Six
ALLEY
PRESENT DAY—TWO MONTHS LATER
My phone dings,and a message from Megan syncs to my computer screen.
Megan
Hey—just checking in. Jensen home yet? How are you?
I don’t have it in me to respond. Mostly because I don’t know what to say. I’m not good. Jensen’s not home. He’s been more MIA these past three weeks than he’s ever been. Nothing makes sense. And this time… it’s worse. I’ve never been more scared for his health than I am right now.
I remember what it was like when my dad would relapse. He’d spiral fast, drinking himself into blackouts. And when he came out of them, he was grumpy and mean. He’d deflect all the shame onto us just so he didn’t have to sit with it himself.
Opioid relapse is even more dangerous. Most addicts go straight back to their old dose. That’s how so many overdoses happen. The craving hits just as hard, but their bodies can’t handle it anymore. There’s no longer a tolerance. No build-up. Just… overdose.
It’s just one more emotion I have to sit with. Fear. Real, paralyzing fear.
Is my husband lying dead on a street somewhere? Am I one phone call away from being a widow?
My thoughts race, dragging me into the darkness of the past year. It’s been a constant struggle—a brutal push and pull of get clean and relapse. Jensen would stay clean for two, maybe three days. A week if we were lucky. Then he’d relapse. But most of the time, he never even made it to clean. He’d try to detox, only to give up three days later. Every weekend became a cycle of misery. Another failed attempt to get better.
Most of the time, I didn’t even know if he was clean or not. He’d go through detox, disappear, then show up just enough to convince me he was okay. Just enough to make me question my instincts.
Our lives had gotten so chaotic, and my expectations for him had gotten so low; I honestly couldn’t even remember whatnormallooked like anymore. In the middle of all that madness was the real destruction. The lying. The stealing. The sneaking.
I had to take Jensen off every financial account I could. Some were originally his, and I didn’t have the authority to remove him, so I did the only thing I could. I transferred the money out—into my own account. It had to be where it was safe.
It was never about punishment. I had to protect what was mine—what wasours. We’d both worked so hard. I wasn’t about to watch everything we built get lost to drugs.
He always found a way, though. He’d steal my credit card or debit card when I wasn’t looking, or when I was sleeping. He found an old checkbook and drained it in a matter of days, writing out checks to cash.
Then it was the little things that started to go missing—the GoPro, the expensive art piece from the guest bedroom. Things I wouldn’t notice right away. Things he could pawn, like he was some desperate stranger on the street. It was heartbreaking—and pathetic. Still, I stayed. Through all of it.
I decide to message Megan back, just to let her know, though I’m sure she’s already talked to Matt by now.
He’s not home yet. I’m worried about him.
She calls immediately.
I don’t want to answer, but I feel like I should, so I swipe to pick up.
“Hey,” I say, my voice flat.
“Hey. What’s going on? Do I need to come over there? Do you want me to kick his ass?”
