Page 40

T hat night, the house was quiet and still. We'd dropped the kids off at Dawn's. It may have been irrational, but we felt uneasy having them sleep at home when there was a boarded up hole where the glass backdoor should be.

I'll replace the door first thing tomorrow morning.

Sloane hadn’t spoken much since we got back from the clinic. She was in her room, her door cracked just enough for me to hear her moving around; slow and mechanical, like a clock ticking down the moments she had left. There was no warmth in her steps, no rush to anything. She was simply existing.

I was a nervous wreck from the evening. Considerate Charlie had given her the night off, telling her to text him if she needed an extra day.

Apparently, they had each other's numbers already.

Which, I tried to remind myself, was fine.

They worked together. Her having his number, him having hers? That was fine.

I stood at the kitchen sink, washing a dish that was already clean. The water scalded my hands, but I didn’t care .

Charlie kept invading my thoughts.

The man was steady. Calm. Uncomplicated. Everything I wasn’t. Everything I hadn’t been when Sloane needed me the most.

I thought about my previous life, the one where I had failed her completely.

I remembered the soft, tender grief in her eyes when she told me she was moving on.

That she couldn’t wait for a man who kept choosing the wrong things.

I saw the way her shoulders finally relaxed when someone else treated her like a woman instead of a burden.

I gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, my muscles straining, as if I could uproot the damned thing from the floor.

“Not this time,” I vowed with resolve. I forced the words past the lump in my throat, but doubt didn’t heed vows. Doubt didn’t care about second chances. Doubt was a poison, creeping slow, and I felt it crawling through my veins.

I dried my hands, walked down the hallway, and entered the guest room.

I pulled my journal out from its hiding place, and flipped through the pages littered with messy handwriting.

I had spilled my mind out into that book; every ounce of guilt, regret, and truth I didn't dare speak, along with Angie's menacing behaviour.

I sat down, picked up the pen, and wrote:

Charlie would take care of her. I know that. And she would have let him, if I hadn’t been given this chance. That’s what this is. A second chance. Not a reset. A test. And I’m still not sure if I’m passing.

There’s a version of me that she doesn’t love anymore; that our kids tiptoe around; that invited Angie into our lives, even when the tiny, quiet, good parts of me screamed not to. And that version? He’s still in here. Lurking.

I’m terrified he’s stronger than I am .

I heard a soft creak behind me and I froze.

Sloane stood in the doorway, her robe wrapped around her, one hand resting on the frame, watching me like she could see into the depths of my secrets.

“You okay?” she asked, her voice quiet.

I nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just… writing. Trying to get it all out of my head.”

She stepped closer, but didn’t look at the journal.

“That’s good,” she said, her voice weary, "Do you want to talk about it?"

“Yes. I’m scared,” I admitted.

She tilted her head, watching me carefully. “Of what?”

“That I’ll ruin this again,” I whispered, my throat tightening. “That I’ll lose you. That someone better… someone like Charlie will take my place and do it right.”

Her expression shifted then, a flicker of softness breaking through the guarded mask she wore so often. “I’m not looking for someone better,” she said. “I’m looking for someone honest. Someone who doesn’t make me feel alone in my own house.”

My throat tightened, and I felt the sting of tears I refused to let fall. “And if that’s not me?”

She shrugged, the movement small but deliberate.

Her eyes never left mine as she found the courage to say what she needed, even if the words threatened to tear us apart.

“Then I’ll survive. But it’s my choice, Levi.

I can choose to be with you, or I can choose to be alone, or I can choose to explore what I have with Charlie. ”

Fuck me. She said "have" not "could have" or "might have."

"So there is something there. "

Sloane shrugged, "Maybe? He gave me his number recently. We laugh and work well together. But it's not as if I've moved on, Levi."

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, tasting the bitterness of regret and hope tangled together. “I know. I want to respect your decision and give you freedom. I have no right to say anything else after all I've put you through.”

Her lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “No, you really don’t,” she said, “but honestly? I am proud of you for accepting that.”

I managed a weak, crooked smile. “Well, if you do decide to explore what you have with Charlie, at least promise me you’ll ask if he’s good at taking out the trash. Because, I was always way better at that than I gave myself credit for.”

She laughed. “Is that your big selling point? Trash duty?”

“Hey,” I said, grinning despite how rotten I felt, “it’s the little things that keep a marriage alive, right? Plus, I make a killer gluten free grilled cheese. Can Charlie do that?”

She rolled her eyes but there was a warmth in her gaze. “No one makes a grilled cheese like you, Levi.”

“Okay, I’ll take that. Grilled cheese and trash disposal. I am such a fucking catch.”

She shook her head, still smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me anyway.”

"I do… and sometimes that's hard for me to admit." She sighed. "I'm going to bed. Try to rest, okay?"

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Sure. Go get some sleep. I love you.” The words jerked out, like a reflex.

She paused in the doorway, a flicker of surprise in her eyes before her smile widened ever so slightly and softened her features. “I love you, too. Good night, Levi.”

She turned and left me sitting there, alone in the doorway of my own mess.