Page 28 of Absolution (Infidelty #3)

Kyle

She’s going away. With another man. A man who isn’t me.

I should be angry. Jealous. I didn’t even know she was seeing someone. But all I feel is this deep, hollow loss. Like I’ve really lost her. Not just the marriage. Not the house or the routines or the co-parenting schedules.

Her.

My ego, God, the embarrassment of it, was brutal. So bad I skipped my therapy appointments. I had told Dr. Nina all about how Jackie and I were reconnecting. How things were… softening. I said maybe we weren’t done after all.

She warned me I might be reading too much into it.

I’d smiled and said.

“I know my Jackie.”

Turns out, I don’t know her at all.

I was too ashamed to go back. Too ashamed to admit I’d misread it, that I’d clung to something that was never there.

So, I did what I do best. I shut down.

I still haven’t returned to therapy. Not because of the shame, not completely, anyway. I’ve just been busy. That’s what I tell myself.

The merger finally went through, and somehow, I’m getting handed every nightmare file no one else wants. My father’s making a point. Loudly.

Turns out after Mom left here that Sunday, she went straight to his apartment in the city. Walked in, looked his newest girlfriend in the eye, and told him she was filing for divorce.

He’s furious. Said .

“poisoned her.”

Said I put the idea in her head. I didn’t even know she filed until he called to scream about it.

She’s here now, upstairs with the kids while I sit on the stairs like a goddamn ghost.

Regret tastes metallic. Bitter and sharp and impossible to swallow. I want to take it all back, so fucking badly. If I had a time machine, I wouldn’t buy shares. I wouldn’t play the lottery.

I’d go find my smug, cheating, self-righteous prick of a self and punch him square in the mouth. Tell him he's about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

The only problem is, ‘which time would I go back to?’ The first betrayal, or the second?

I can’t ask Jackie for a second chance. Because I already took it. And I blew it.

Now I get to sit here and watch as Charlie fucking Pine takes my wife away from me.

And this time, I don’t get to blame anyone else.

A few days later, I decide to work from home. School’s been cancelled due to the heavy rains. It has been a relentless downpour, slamming against the windows like the sky was trying to break in.

I’ve been trying Jackie’s phone all morning. Nothing. No signal. I hope it’s just bad reception.

I might hate Charlie, but if it’s his cabin they went to, he probably checked the weather before they left. He didn’t seem careless.

Still. There was flooding just a few days ago near the Guadalupe River. Flash flood warnings. I saw them on the county alert system.

And if she’s stuck out there, God, if they try to evacuate in this weather…

“Dammit, Jackie,”

I mutter, dialling again. Straight to voicemail.

“Where are you?”

Rapid knocking pounds the front door.

I bolt out of my room, the one I’ve been using as an office and rush to the entryway, hope rising like a balloon in my chest.

Please be her.

But it deflates the moment I walk into the living room and see my mother standing in front of the open door, behind her, my father.

“Dad?”

I say sharply, instinctively stepping into the doorway to block his view of the kids, who are curled up in the living room watching a movie.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, son,”

he says, smooth as ever.

“I came to see my grandchildren. Or have you turned them against me, too?”

My mother scoffs beside me.

I exhale. Not now. Not in front of them.

“Let’s take this outside,”

I mutter, stepping out after my mom and pulling the door closed behind me.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea,”

I say, lowering my voice.

“Why not?”

he replies, stepping closer.

She folds her arms.

“You’ve never come here without a reason, Kent.”

“Well, wife,”

he snaps.

“you are still my wife, aren’t you? I came to see my grandchildren. This has nothing to do with you.”

“Dad-”

I start, trying to deescalate, but the door flies open behind me.

“Dad!”

Jemma’s voice is high and sharp.

I spin around instantly.

“What’s wrong?”

She points somewhere inside. “Look.”

I rush back inside, following her wide eyes to the screen.

It’s the local news. Emergency Broadcast flashes red across the bottom of the screen. A reporter in a yellow rain slicker is standing in front of a stretch of highway that’s completely underwater.

Behind him, murky water rushes across the road, swallowing fences and mailboxes. A small white SUV is stuck halfway up a hill with water nearly reaching its doors. Helicopter footage shows the river swollen, unrecognizable, brown with debris.

“-significant flooding reported along the Guadalupe River near Echo Reach. Several cabins have been cut off from main access roads due to rising water levels overnight. Local authorities are urging residents not to attempt evacuation unless directed. Emergency crews are on standby. If you have loved ones in this area, we advise you to try contacting them, but please be patient, cell service has been unreliable in the region.”

My blood turns to ice.

“Isn’t that where Mom is?”

Iris asks, her voice small.

I don’t answer right away.

Because yeah. It is.

A hand lands on my shoulder, and it jolts me out of the spiral I’ve fallen into.

“Son,”

my dad says, and for once… he doesn’t sound smug. He doesn’t look like the man who usually walks in expecting control. He just looks concerned.

“She’s…”

I start, swallowing hard.

He asks.

“Do you know the exact location of the cabin?”

I shake my head.

“No. She just said it was in Echo Reach. That’s all I know.”

“Can you find out?”

he asks, quieter now.

“I’ll try.”

I don’t wait for more. I disappear into the bedroom and shut the door behind me. The moment the door clicks, my composure crumbles.

Hands shaking, I sit down on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone. Who do I even call? I already tried Charlie. But maybe… maybe Marco would know.

I haven’t spoken to him in nearly a decade. Not since he and Charlie split their business. But I still have his number buried in my contacts.

I hit dial.

He answers on the second ring. “Hello?”

“Marco? Hey, it’s…it’s Kyle. Kyle Greyson.”

There’s a long pause.

“Uh. Wow. Okay. Hi?”

“Yeah. Sorry. This is really out of the blue.”

I rub my eyes.

“Listen, I know it’s been years, but I need your help. It’s about Charlie.”

Another pause.

“What kind of help?”

“Do you… do you know the address of his cabin? The one in Echo Reach?”

“He has a cabin?”

Marco asks, confusion creeping in.

“First I’ve heard of it.”

“Shit,”

I mutter. I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Okay. Anyone else who might know?”

“Well,”

Marco says slowly.

“his ex-wife might. Monica. She handled most of their financials. I’ve still got her number.”

“Can you send it to me?”

“Yeah. Hold on.”

A second later, a text pops up. ‘Monica Pine - Charlie’s Ex.’

I don’t think. I just call.

She answers, cautious. “Hello?”

“Hi. Monica? Sorry for calling out of nowhere. My name is Kyle Greyson. I… I’m calling because it’s about Charlie. And someone he’s with. My ex-wife.”

There’s a long pause. “Okay…?”

“They went to his cabin near Echo Reach and I… there’s flooding there now. And I can’t reach them. Please. I just need the address.”

She exhales.

“I’ve never been there, but I think the address was in the divorce settlement. Hang on.”

I wait, every second feeling like it’s choking me.

A minute passes. Then another.

Finally, my phone buzzes.

Monica Pine: Found it. Hope you get her back.

I stare at the screen for a second longer, not breathing.

Then I stand, already dialling the emergency line and press the phone to my ear.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“My name is Kyle Greyson. I just got the address of a cabin near Echo Reach, outside Kerrville. My ex-wife and her partner are there. I haven’t been able to reach her, and I just saw a flood advisory for that area on the news.”

“Okay, sir, I understand. Can you give me the exact address?”

I read it off the text Monica sent. The dispatcher repeats it back and then types something quickly. I can hear faint radio chatter in the background.

“There was significant flash flooding in that area last night,”

she says.

“We’ve had multiple rescues in the Echo Reach vicinity, particularly near the Guadalupe River. Most of the active flooding has passed for now, but water levels are still unstable in some low-lying areas. Power and cell towers have been impacted, so that could be why you’re not able to reach her.”

“So, what do I do? I need someone to check if they’re okay.”

“We’ve got search and rescue teams deployed in that region. They’re going cabin to cabin where possible, but it’s remote terrain. If your wife and her partner are safe and sheltering in place, the best thing they can do is stay put until responders reach them.”

“But what if they’re not?”

“Sir, I understand. I’ll flag this address and relay it to our Kerr County teams. Do you have a description of the people, names, any medical conditions?”

I give them everything. Jackie. Charlie. Her age, his, I don’t know much about him. I mention the kids, not with them, but waiting for her to come home.

“We’ve logged everything. A unit will make contact when it's safe. In the meantime, we advise you not to attempt to reach the location yourself. Roads in and out are unpredictable, and we don’t want to create another rescue situation.”

“So, I just wait?”

“For now, yes. But you're not being ignored. We'll call you with any updates.”

I hang up slowly. My hands feel cold.

And then I sit. Staring at the screen.

Waiting.

I sit still for a long time, just staring at the wall. The dispatcher’s words replay in my head.

“Don’t create another rescue situation.”

But what if they’re hurt? What if no one gets there in time?

I don’t move for several minutes. Then I get up.

Not to storm off. Not to drive blind into rising water like some idiot.

I pull up my laptop. Find a local map of the area. I start cross-checking it with the GPS coordinates Monica’s text sent. I find a list of active shelters. Emergency coordination numbers. I call the Kerr County Sheriff’s Office directly and ask if the Echo Reach cabins are in their jurisdiction. They confirm, and I give the address again.

“We’ve dispatched a crew to that area,”

the deputy says.

“But it’s a slow process, especially without confirmed distress calls.”

I ask if they’ll let me know if they make contact. He says he’ll add my number to the file but they’re short staffed so it may take a while.

Thinking for a second, I go to the hall closet and pack a bag. Just in case. It’s not reckless. I’m not going to play hero. I’m just… not sitting here doing nothing.

In the living room, Mom sees the duffel bag slung over my shoulder and immediately says.

“Tell me you are not going out there.”

I kneel in front of the kids.

“I spoke to the rescue team and the police,”

I say calmly.

“They’ve already sent people to where your mom is, and they promised to keep me updated.”

Jemma clutches my sleeve.

“So why are you going?”

“Because the sheriff’s office is stretched thin right now,”

I explain.

“They’re coordinating all the rescues out of a community centre in Kerr County. The route there is safe. I'm not going anywhere dangerous. I just want to be closer. Help if I can. And the second I know anything, I’ll call. I promise.”

All three of them nod, silent, then rush into my arms, wrapping themselves around me so tight I can barely breathe.

“Please be safe, Dad,”

Iris whispers.

“Always,”

I say, kissing the top of her head.

I stand up and pull Mom into a hug.

“You two gonna be okay?”

She exhales.

“We’ll behave.”

“Good,”

I say, kissing her forehead.

At the door, instead of his usual passive-aggressive huff, my father holds up a set of keys. They dangle in the air.

“I rented a vehicle this morning,”

he says.

“Because of the weather. It’ll be safer than your car.”

I take the keys without a word, too stunned to argue. Downstairs, I press the fob and the headlights blink, a silver Ford Expedition, sturdy and high enough to handle waterlogged roads.

I slide in, adjust the seat, and before heading toward Kerrville, I make one stop.

At the nearest supply store, I grab every case of bottled water I can carry. Then thermal blankets. Raincoats. Flashlights. Umbrellas. Protein bars. A huge first aid kit. I don’t glance at the total. I just swipe my card.

An employee, barely sixteen, helps me load the back of the SUV. He squints at me through the downpour.

“You heading to the flooded area?”

I nod, checking the tarp over the supplies.

“They said a lot of people got washed away,” he says.

“I know.”

His voice is quiet.

“I hope you find who you're looking for.”

I meet his eyes for a second.

“Me too, buddy,”

I say. “Me too.”

Then I shut the door and drive off into the rain.