Page 60 of Meant to be Falling
Ididn’t call Nessa or Mason, not that day or the day after.
Between traveling and soccer, Jensen and the baby, my friend had more than enough on her plate without me adding to it.
And Mason…
I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him, as if postponing it would make it go away.
But at Amara’s insistence, I made a police report just to document the incident with Jacob. She’d been outraged and promised to let me know if she heard anything on her end about what set him off. Her job allowed her to fly under the radar, people assuming she was so focused on her task that she wasn’t listening to the dirty laundry they were airing.
We’d agreed that Jacob can be an asshole but this had been unexpected.
And I’d tossed and turned all night because of it.
The morning hasn’t been any better.
Because he’s followed up his visit with a series of texts that I’ve mostly deleted without looking at.
Mostly.
But one message still haunts me, the words playing like a bad movie in my mind.
He’ll see you’re not worth sticking around for.
It shouldn’t matter. Jacob’s opinion of me shouldn’t matter, but the words float around me, whispering the insecurities I try to keep in check. Mason and I had jumped in with both feet after we’d bumped into each other at the grocery store.
Things have been great, but we have glossed over some of the finer details in the process.
Like our age gap.
Him wanting kids of his own someday.
The fact that he’s in the prime of his life and should be out living it instead of playing house with me.
The thoughts are never-ending, each more toxic than the last, and in the light of day, I can reason that I am being irrational, that Mason and I are already strong enough to navigate the brutally honest conversations.
But are we?
I don’t know.
Coach Turner had recounted the events to campus security and they’d made a copy of the video. It was less than impressive, the two of us just looking like we’re talking until I walk away and Jacob peels out of the lot.
But it’d been eerie, seeing him angry, his muscles taut and his fists clenched. I hadn’t noticed it while it was happening, but his anger is palpable on the screen.
My phone buzzes, pulling me from the memory, and I grab my phone without thinking.
JACOB: Get rid of him or I’ll petition the court for full custody
JACOB: You don’t have the money to fight me—you’ll never win
My breath haltsin my lungs, the magnitude of the situation washing over me like a tsunami as my blood runs cold.
He’ll fight me for custody.
Holy shit.
It’s not a threat I’m willing to chance, so I take a screenshot of the messages and send them to my lawyer, ignoring the bill I’ll get for this later because I’ll sell my soul before I let him take the kids from me.
My lawyer’s response is immediate, telling me to hang tight and not engage with him—easier said than done.
