"Yes." The word comes out as barely a whisper, my voice catching in my throat as the admission hangs between us like a confession. I can hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, drowning out everything else except the terrible silence on the other end of the line."Two days ago. I thought... I thought it was the right thing to do."
The silence stretches between us like a chasm, heavy and suffocating. I can hear him breathing on the other end of the line, each exhale deliberate and controlled in that way that's so distinctly Caine.
My own breath comes in shallow gasps as I wait for his response, my free hand gripping the edge of the counter so tightly my knuckles have gone white. The kitchen clock ticks loudly in the background, marking each agonizing second that passes without words.
I want to fill the void, to say something—anything—that might make this better, but my throat feels constricted, my voice trapped somewhere deep inside my chest. The weight of my confession hangs in the air between us, and I can almost feel the shift in everything we've built together, the fragile foundation of our relationship cracking under the pressure of reality.
"It was the right thing to do,” he finally says.
"No, it wasn't!" My voice cracks. "Look what's happened. He's spiralling, and now you're in danger because of me."
"Jenna, listen to me." His tone softens, becomes that familiar warmth that always undoes me. "Were you afraid when you told him?"
I think of Reeves’s hand striking my cheek, the sharp shock of pain that radiated across my face, followed by the deeper ache that settled into my bones. The way his wedding ring had caught the light for just a moment before impact. The stunned silence that followed.
But worse than the physical pain was hearing him call me a whore, the word spilling from his lips with such venom, such disgust. The man who used to whisper sweet things in my ear, who called me his Jenny Bee, had looked at me like I was nothing more than dirt beneath his boots."Yes."
"Then you were brave. You did what needed to be done."
Tears blur my vision. "I should never have... we should never have..."
"Don't say that." His voice turns fierce. "Don't you dare regret what we have."
"But look at the mess—"
"I would do it all again, Jenna. Every kiss, every touch. If I could go back in time, I'd make love to you all over again." The raw honesty in his voice steals mybreath. "The only thing I'd change is that I'd have found you sooner."
I press my hand to my mouth, trying to hold back a sob. The kitchen feels too small, the walls closing in around me, and this impossible situation I've created.
"Are you safe?" I finally manage.
"I will be. But what about you?"
"I am," I tell him. "I'm not worried about me. I can't explain it… I know he would never hurt me."
I hear a long sigh of relief, and the sound warms my heart.
"Are you sure?" he asks.
"I am," I assure him. "But listen… I'm worried about you, Caine. Promise me you'll be careful… that you'll watch your back."
"I promise."
"God, I'm so sorry, Caine. I never meant for all this to happen."
"Don't worry, baby… but yeah, we really fucked shit up," he says, pointing out the obvious.. “Both of us did."
"Yep… we sure did."
The sound of the front door opening makes me drop the sweater I'm folding. My heart leaps as footsteps echothrough the hallway - heavy, familiar boots on our hardwood floors.
"Reeves?"
I rush toward the entryway, relief flooding through me like warm water. Three days. Three days of not knowing where he went, if he was safe, if he was ever coming back. Three days of Liam asking where Daddy was while I made up stories about work trips.
He stands in the doorway, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, looking exhausted. Dark circles shadow his eyes, and his beard is scruffier than usual. But he's here. He's alive. He's home.
"Thank God." I throw my arms around him before I can stop myself, burying my face against his chest. He smells like stale cigarettes and something sharper - whiskey, maybe. "I was so worried. I didn't know where you were.”
