Page 53 of Absolution

After dinner, I help with dishes. She washes; I dry. It’s almost like muscle memory.

By the time I make it to the bedroom, Jackie’s already there, legs tucked under her, tablet in hand. She doesn’t look up, but she doesn’t shift away either.

I want to say something. I really do. But the second my head hits the pillow, I’m gone.

I pass out.

Chapter Seventeen

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 thebestpartner. 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’sactuallymaking 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 willabsolutelyprotect 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.”

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