Page 10 of Absolution (Infidelty #3)

Kyle

“I’ll talk to my client,”

I say into the mic, dragging a hand down my face.

“But I doubt he’ll settle.”

Opposing counsel sighs.

“Well, rumour is, the courts are reopening for in-person civil hearings.”

I sit up straighter.

“Can’t come soon enough. I’m tired of being trapped at home. My house used to feel big, now it’s just loud.”

He gives a tight smile. I add.

“You know how it is. My wife says she needs help, but half the time I think what she really needs is a nap and a Xanax.”

I chuckle at my own joke.

But the other lawyer doesn’t laugh. Just clears his throat.

“Right. I’ll let you go.”

He signs off before I can respond. I blink at the empty screen, confused.

Whatever.

The door slams open and Jemma barrels in, tiara askew and glitter on her cheeks.

“Dad! Dad! Mom’s gone!”

I laugh, pulling her onto my lap.

“Oh no. Where’d she go, huh?”

She shrugs, like this is serious business.

She probably just went to the garage to cry in peace. I snapped earlier. Again. She didn’t say anything back, but I could see it on her face. And God, the tiara incident, Judge Miller is practically a surrogate uncle. If word got to my dad, I’d never hear the end of it.

I sigh and lift Jemma into my arms as I leave the office.

“Alright, let’s go find the queen.”

In the living room, Iris and Levi are standing on tiptoes at the window, eyes glued to the front yard. Their backs are stiff, quiet.

“What’s wrong, bud?”

I ask, stepping closer.

Levi turns.

“Mom left.”

My stomach drops.

I set Jemma down. “What?”

Iris doesn’t even turn. Just says, in a small voice.

“She yelled.”

“Stay inside,”

I tell the kids, already heading toward the front door.

“Don’t open it for anyone, alright?”

Levi nods seriously. Iris just grabs Jemma’s hand and pulls her toward the couch.

Stepping out onto the porch, I scan the yard ignoring the trash bins I was supposed to pull in.

Jogging around the house, I call softly, “Jackie?”

Nothing. Not behind the garage. Not near the oak where she sometimes sits with her coffee. I check the side gate, it’s still latched. No sign of her.

Her car is parked in the driveway. Which means… she didn’t drive anywhere.

Panic scratches at the edge of my throat.

I hurry back inside, calling her name. The kids stay glued to the couch, eyes wide.

“Jackie?”

Nothing. Grabbing my phone, I call her. It rings on the kitchen counter, right where she always leaves it.

Great.

Upstairs, the bedroom’s empty. So is the bathroom. The kids’ rooms, too. Even the closets, the balcony, the laundry room, nothing. Maybe she just went for a walk. To cool off. Needed air. That happens. I've done it. Maybe she needed to be alone.

Or maybe she needed to be away from me.

Sitting at the foot of our bed, I watch the time crawl by. Fifteen minutes pass. Then twenty. I head downstairs, leave the kids in front of the TV, and retreat to my office. Thirty minutes in, I’m shuffling through Milani case files when my phone buzzes.

Deposition reminder. No time to reschedule. I swipe to answer, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

“Mr. Greyson,”

the assistant chirps.

“we’re just waiting on opposing counsel, but you can begin with-”

A loud crash echoes from the living room, followed immediately by high-pitched crying. My heart shoots up into my throat.

“I’ll call you back,”

I mutter, already moving. I hang up without waiting for a reply.

The phone hits the desk as I bolt out, slamming the door behind me.

How the hell am I supposed to contain three kids while working? Fuck, I get needing time away, but she can’t just leave. Not today. Not when she knows I have a deposition, deadlines, Judge Miller breathing down my neck.

I find Jemma wailing next to the overturned laundry basket. Iris is trying to pick socks off the floor. Levi stands in the hallway, wide-eyed.

I kneel down and check Jemma’s knee. It’s just a scrape.

“You’re okay,”

I whisper, kissing the crown of her head.

“You’re okay, baby.”

She nods into my shirt, still crying.

We settle into the couch after that, a cartoon playing low on the TV. I bring down a few pillows, make a sloppy fort out of the cushions.

Time drags.

No Jackie. No texts. No footsteps. Nothing.

Lunch rolls around. I make grilled cheese, adding apples and baby carrots like that’ll make it healthier. Levi reminds me to check his meds and I damn near cry with relief that he remembers on his own. He’s growing up.

We eat on the floor, paper towels for napkins. I try to make them laugh. I let them dip carrots in ketchup just this once. I tell myself I’m handling it.

But the sink is full. The counters are sticky. The laundry’s still in the basket, now with a few socks mysteriously wet. And every time a door creaks or the pipes groan, I turn, hoping it’s her.

But it’s not.

And I don’t know where she is. Or when she’s coming back. Or if she even wants to.

By the time I’m rinsing off lunch plates and stepping over crayon wrappers and puzzle pieces, my temper is frayed. Jemma's asking for chocolate milk. Levi wants to watch something on the iPad. Iris is pulling on my sleeve asking when Jackie is coming back.

I tell them “Soon”

like I actually know.

But I don’t.

And every minute that ticks by, I go from scared to irritated to downright furious.

Where the hell is she?

She left her phone on the table. Her car’s still in the driveway. And I’m here playing hide-and-seek with a client list growing by the hour and three kids climbing the walls. I slam a cabinet shut harder than I should. Jemma flinches. Guilt hits instantly, but I don’t apologize. I’m too wound up.

What was she thinking?

What kind of mom just walks out mid-morning?

My back aches from carrying Levi to the bathroom because he didn’t want to walk on the cold floor barefoot. There’s a mystery stain on my shirt from lunch. The girls are bickering. And my inbox is a war zone.

Is this my punishment for snapping? For yelling about the tiara?

Because yeah, I lost it. I know I did. But I was drowning. I still am. Tossing the sponge in the sink, I watch as water splashes up onto the counter. My jaw clenches.

She left me.

She abandoned us.

After all that talk about partnership. About being a team. About never doing life alone again. Where the hell is that now? I rub my face, trying to breathe. I'm overwhelmed, but do I get to leave?

Nope. Because I have a job and a family.

By four, I start making calls. There’s not a long list; Jackie doesn’t have many people in her life outside of family. I call Cory first. Then Marianne. A couple cousins she’s close to. No one’s seen her. No one even knew she left. I try to play it off like she just forgot to tell me, but I’m not fooling anyone. Especially not myself.

Cory pauses longer than necessary and then says.

“I might know where she is,”

before hanging up. No explanation. No follow-up.

An hour later, Marianne calls me back.

“We found her,”

she says.

“She went to our parents’ house.”

Her voice is cautious, like she’s not sure how I’m going to take it.

“She wasn’t really talking,”

she adds.

“But she’s safe. We’re going to stay the night with her.”

And that’s it. No big confrontation. No explanation. No grand scene. Just silence and then: she’s not coming home tonight.

Great. I’m stuck here with three kids while she’s having a sleepover. No word. No heads-up. No Hey Kyle, I need a break. Just gone.

And what the hell am I supposed to do about tomorrow?

Because the kids have online school, Levi has meds and monitoring, and I’ve got three hearings and a client threatening to fire me if I cancel on him again.

But sure. Take the night off. Disappear. Leave me here trying to hold together the pieces of a life you ran from.

I grip the back of my chair and close my eyes.

What the fuck, Jackie.

She has to come back soon, right?

She doesn’t. Not the next day. Not the day after that. Not even the week after that.

She video calls, sure. Talks to the kids, asks about Levi’s numbers, tells Iris her hair looks cute, tells Jemma she misses her stories. But every time I ask her when she’s coming home, she just says.

“I need a little more time.”

Time. That’s all she ever needs. Time, I don’t have. Time I’m spending keeping our kids alive. Keeping this family afloat. Keeping myself from driving to that house and banging on the goddamn door until she faces me.

But we can’t risk that. Not with Levi.

Dr. Lin reminded us how lucky we’ve been so far, that no one from outside our bubble has brought anything in. We can’t chance it now. Can’t let a single exposure undo everything we’ve fought for. And I tried, really. But after the second week I had to call my mother, had to take that risk.

She was surprised. I don’t blame her; I haven’t exactly leaned on her much in the last few years. Dad chose to finish recovering at a private facility out in Montauk, so she’s been alone in their house in the Hamptons, bored and quietly miserable.

All she needed was a negative COVID test and we were good.

She drove all the way to Texas the next day, only stopped to get gas and use the bathroom, wore three masks anytime she got out of the car, stayed in our garage with the portable heater for two days until we cleared her ourselves.

She’s trying. I’ll give her that. But she doesn’t know Levi’s meds. She doesn’t know his monitors or his triggers or the signs to watch for. He’s become independent, but he’s still a kid.

So, I’ve had to stay alert. Eyes everywhere. Zoom in the morning, schoolwork by noon, blood pressure check, oxygen check, meds. Then repeat. Then lunch. Then naptime. Then court filings. And more Zoom.

And every single day that ticks by, the bitterness builds.

What the hell is she doing that’s more important than this?

Every time she say.

“I miss you”

over video call, I bite my tongue. Because I miss you only matters if you come back.

By the time March rolls around, the government finally lifts the isolation ban, and the world begins to breathe again.

And Jackie? Jackie finally decides she’s ready to come home.

But by then?

It’s too late.

I’m done.