Page 17 of Absolution (Infidelty #3)
Jackie August, 2024
This past month has been… weird, to say the least.
I don’t know if it’s guilt or the spironolactone I’ve been sneaking into Kyle’s coffee every morning, but he’s become the best partner. Not in the dramatic, romantic sense. No grand gestures. Just… consistent. Present.
The kids are on summer vacation, and he’s been coming home early. Actually helping. With dinner. With dishes. With laundry. Not just crashing on the couch and pretending he can’t hear the chaos. I’ve caught him folding towels. Vacuuming under the couch. Once, I came home from class and he was chopping onions with the kids helping.
It’s messing with my head.
We still haven’t… done anything. The drugs have definitely killed his sex drive. And I hate to admit this, but it’s actually making me feel kind of guilty. So much that I stopped a week ago. Cold turkey.
I’ve been watching him closely, documenting like Trish said. So far, nothing. No late-night texts. No shady calls. No suspicious credit card charges. Either he has a second card or maybe Boston was a one-off. A release valve. A shitty, selfish mistake.
I feel like I'm just guessing. I do know he slept with another woman in Boston but so far, that’s it. Part of me wants to ask him, the other part is dreading it. Still, I think I should at least give him a chance to explain.
The logical part of me says.
“Don’t forget what he’s capable of.”
But the part of me that’s been in love with Kyle Greyson for a decade whispers, “Maybe…”
Maybe once I get a job. Some footing. Some real leverage. Maybe I shouldn’t write him off just yet.
Couples counselling. Maybe. If not for us, then for the kids.
They light up when he comes home early. They may be headed to the teenage years but it’s hard to miss the joy in their eyes when he’s there.
Summer break is almost over, and Kyle took the kids to New York for a few days to visit his parents. He promised he wouldn’t let them say anything twisted to the girls, and if there’s one thing I believe, it’s that Kyle will absolutely protect them from his parents’ bullshit.
Besides, I’ve got class. They left yesterday and won’t be back until Tuesday.
Tonight? I need something else.
Cory and Marianne both have the weekend off, and we decided to have a movie night like old times. Pillows on the floor, popcorn in a giant bowl that somehow always ends up half spilled. The same three arguments about what to watch. It’s childish, it’s comforting. And it’s exactly what I need.
I didn’t want to be alone in the house. Not in this weird limbo I’ve been floating through. Tonight, I just want laughter. Familiar voices. Something to anchor me.
Something that feels like home.
I finish spreading the blanket over the pull-out sofa and toss a few throw pillows in place just as the doorbell rings.
I open the door, and there’s Marianne, grinning and holding a tote bag full of snacks and what looks like slippers.
“You ready for sister time or what?”
Before I can answer, headlights sweep the driveway. Cory’s car pulls in, music thumping faintly through the cracked window. He parks crooked and hops out, holding two brown paper bags.
“Don’t worry,”
he calls out.
“I brought provisions.”
I laugh, stepping aside to let them in. Marianne ducks in first, already kicking off her sandals, while Cory walks in like he owns the place.
He hands me the bag.
“One bottle of wine for me and Marianne to split. And this-”
he holds up the second.
“-is for you to deal with the fact that you voluntarily had three kids.”
Tonight, I’m not a wife. Not a student. Not a woman with a Plan.
I grab three mismatched wine glasses from the cabinet and pour generously. We settle onto the pull-out in a loose triangle, me on one corner, Marianne curled into the other, Cory sitting cross-legged at the bottom.
“So,”
I say, tucking one leg under the other.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
Marianne’s the first to start.
“Well, going back part-time was the best decision I’ve made in years. I actually have a life outside of the hospital now. No more back-to-back sixteen-hour shifts, and I’m out of all the administrative drama, so that’s been fun.”
Cory lifts his glass.
“Cheers to escaping capitalism.”
Marianne grins.
“Seriously.”
He swirls his wine.
“What about Yaz?”
I freeze. “Yaz?”
Marianne makes a face.
“Oh, did I not tell you?”
“Yasmine is the paramedic captain in my district,”
Cory supplies, smug.
“Basically runs the show.”
“The real title is EMS District Commander,”
Marianne adds, sipping.
“I met her during that First Responder Appreciation Walk back in April. We’ve been talking since. We kind of have a date tomorrow.”
My mouth drops.
“You have a date?”
“Brunch,”
she says, brushing her hair behind her ear.
“What?”
I nearly jump up.
“Why am I only hearing about this now?”
Marianne laughs.
“Relax. It’s brunch, not a vow renewal. She’s nice, but we both have demanding jobs. I don’t know if it’s anything serious yet.”
Cory groans.
“Oh, stop it, Debbie Downer.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Sorry, should I do what you do and serial date until one of them ghosts?”
He shrugs.
“Better than being cheated on.”
The words hang there.
He looks over quickly. “Sorry.”
I turn away, sip my wine.
“It’s fine.”
Silence falls for a few seconds, long enough for the weight of it to settle between us. When I turn back, they’re both watching me.
“What?” I ask.
Marianne tilts her head.
“Something’s different.”
I blink.
“What do you mean?”
“You,”
Cory says.
“You’re hiding something.”
I shake my head.
“No, I’m not.”
They just stare.
I hold it for as long as I can, then break.
“Fine. It’s... Kyle. He’s been different lately. More present.”
Cory doesn’t even blink.
“Yeah. It’s the guilt.”
“No,”
I say quickly.
“I’ve been keeping track. He doesn’t disappear; he doesn’t lie about where he’s going. He helps with the kids. The house. He hasn’t even tried to take credit for it.”
Marianne gives me a look.
“Honey. It’s the spironolactone. It’s suppressing his testosterone. That’s why he’s mellow. That’s why he’s... helpful.”
I nod.
“I thought that too. But I stopped giving it to him last Sunday.”
She raises a brow.
“It takes a while to wear off. You know that.”
“I get that, I do,”
I say, voice low.
“But... maybe I’ve been too harsh. I didn’t give him a chance to explain. Maybe Boston was a one-time mistake. And maybe...”
“And what?”
Cory cuts in, not bothering to hide the edge in his voice.
“And I don’t know,”
I say.
“Maybe it’s something I can forgive.”
That hangs heavier than silence ever could. They both look away.
I let the words settle, then say quietly.
“You don’t have kids, okay? You don’t know what it’s like. How can I break their family without even trying to save it? They love him. And Kyle loves them.”
“Oh, again with that,”
Cory says, sitting up straighter.
“What?”
I ask, not following.
He lifts his hands, mocking.
“Every time you defend Kyle or say something remotely positive, it’s always the same, ‘He’s great with the kids. He loves the kids.’”
He scrunches his face and raises his voice in a cartoonish falsetto.
“He’s such a good dad, you guys. He loves his babies.”
I give him a flat look.
“First of all, I do not sound like that. Second, he is a good dad.”
To my surprise, Marianne nods.
“He kind of is.”
Cory turns to her, offended. “What?!”
She shrugs.
“I mean… he shows up. The kids adore him. He’s involved.”
“Yeah, well,”
Cory mutters, crossing his arms.
“He wasn’t always.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
Cory hesitates, his jaw working, like he’s deciding how far he wants to go.
“The night you went into labour. Your entire pregnancy, really,”
he says finally.
I feel my body go rigid.
“That’s unfair. He had to work. We’ve talked about that. He didn’t do it on purpose.”
Cory looks down, jaw clenching.
“Actually…”
“What?”
“Nothing,”
he says quickly.
“Leave it.”
“No. Cory.”
My voice is steady, low. “Tell me.”
He exhales through his nose, slow.
“When he got to the hospital… he asked me to move his car. You had already had surgery, so I said sure. I parked it in the lot. But… before I got out, his phone rang from the centre console.”
Shrugging, he continues.
“I figured it was the hospital. They’d been trying to reach him all night. So, I picked up.”
I blink. “And?”
“It was the front desk. Apparently Mr. Reynolds left the premises without checking out, so they were gonna charge the card on record for another day,”
he says quietly.
Blood drains from my face.
“I didn’t even think. I just asked if he was alone.”
His voice drops.
“They hung up.”
The room tilts slightly, like it’s not anchored anymore.
A roaring fills my ears, dull, heavy, pulsing. Like blood rushing past the truth, I didn’t want to hear.
He was cheating… then.
When I was about to give birth.
I blink hard, the living room warping slightly in my vision. I remember that night too vividly now.
I’d gone into early labour alone. Kyle wasn’t answering his phone. Said later he’d fallen asleep at the office. I’d believed him.
I wasted precious time calling him. It took me a while to call 911. And even longer for the paramedics to get there.
That delay… it cost us Duke.
Our firstborn. His heart had been fine. His lungs had developed. He just didn’t get oxygen fast enough. The doctors said early delivery wasn’t the problem, it was the window between my water breaking and the hospital.
The window I thought had been my fault, that I’d been the one who knew he was working, that I should’ve called 911 first. The whole time, he knew… he knew it wasn’t my fault.
It was his.
Our son died because Kyle was out fucking another woman.
“You knew?”
I whisper, turning to Cory.
He doesn’t meet my eyes. “Jackie-”
“You knew?”
My voice rises, cracking like something inside me finally splitting open.
“All this time?”
“I wanted to tell you,”
he says, voice low, careful.
“I went to the hospital that night. But you were…”
He swallows.
“You were already dealing with so much. You were shaking. Bleeding. The kids were in the NICU. I didn’t know how.”
I stare at him, waiting for something, anything, to make it better. Nothing comes.
“I told myself I’d tell you after, once things settled. But then they didn’t. Not for a long time. And by then…”
He looks up at me, guilt all over his face.
“I’d convinced myself I was wrong. Kyle never left your side, not even once, after he got there. He was holding your hand. Crying. I told myself it couldn’t have been what I thought. That maybe it was work. Maybe they had the wrong number, or…”
He trails off.
“You told yourself what you needed to,”
I say bitterly.
“And you let me believe he was just late because he fell asleep.”
Cory looks wrecked. “Jackie…”
“I blamed myself.”
My throat tightens.
“I was terrified. I waited too long to call 911 because I thought my husband would walk through the door any minute. And you… you could’ve told me.”
“I’m sorry,”
Cory says.
“I really, truly am.”
But the apology barely registers.
I’m too busy replaying the moment the doctor told us Duke didn’t make it. The way Kyle stood there like he was breaking too. Like he had earned the grief. The guilt. And I let him.
Not knowing the whole time…
I turn to Cory, my voice rough.
“Who else knew?”
He shakes his head quickly.
“No one. I didn’t tell anyone.”
I look to Marianne. “Did you?”
She blinks, startled.
“No. I swear, Jackie, I didn’t know.”
I nod, once. Dryly. “Thanks.”
Cory leans forward, elbows on his knees.
“Jackie… I’m sorry.”
I set my wine down slowly, deliberately.
“I can divorce Kyle.”
My voice is quiet, controlled.
“But what about you?”
He looks up at me, confused.
“You were my family,”
I say.
“You were supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side.”
“No,”
I whisper.
“You’re not. If you were, you would’ve told me.”
My throat tightens.
“God, Cory… you’re my big brother.”
He breaks then, visibly. His voice rasping, “Jackie…”
“Get out.”
He doesn’t move.
I stand.
“Get out of my house.”
His eyes are glassy as he rises, blinking back the tears that slip down anyway. He nods once, like he’s too ashamed to argue. Then he walks out.
I don’t sit down.
Not yet.
I just stand there, breathing like I’m drowning, until I finally glance at Marianne.
“Go with him,”
I say, quieter now.
“I can stay,”
she says, voice soft.
“If you want me to-”
“I wanna be alone,”
I say.
“Please. Go before he drives.”
She hesitates for just a beat, then walks over and pulls me into a hug. Tight. Real. Her hand rests at the back of my neck, like she doesn’t want to let go.
Then she does. And she runs after him, shutting the door behind her.
I don’t move. I just lower myself back onto the couch and I sit there, wondering how I’ll ever survive this.
This betrayal.
Not just his.
Theirs.