Page 35 of The Space He Left
Icouldn't bring myself to go home.
I sat in my truck outside Willowbrook General for twenty minutes after leaving Harper's room, staring at the house keys in my hand. The keys to the home Harper and I had built together, to the nursery I'd helped paint, to the life I'd systematically destroyed over the past two months.
The thought of walking into that empty house, seeing Emma's perfect nursery without Emma in it, sleeping in the bed where Harper should be recovering from childbirth – it felt like a violation of something sacred.
Harper had been clear: she didn't want to talk to me. The least I could do was give her the space she'd asked for.
I drove to The Copper Fox and sat in my truck thinking through all of my mistakes until the parking lot was empty, well after closing time, as I gathered the courage to face him.
Sam looked up when I walked through the unlocked front door, his expression immediately hardening. He was counting the day's receipts, but he set them aside when he saw me.
"What do you want, Jack?"
"I need a place to stay tonight. Just tonight. I can't... I can't go home."
Sam stared at me for a long moment, and I could see him wrestling with whether to help me or throw me out. "There's a couch upstairs in my apartment. But if you think I'm going to listen to you whine about how sorry you are, you're wrong."
"I'm not here to make excuses."
"Good. Because I'm all out of patience for your bullshit."
Sam's apartment above the bar was sparse but clean. It was technically a two-bedroom, but the second room had long since been sacrificed to become a cluttered office and storage space for bar supplies. The living room held a worn leather couch that I knew from experience was about six inches too short for me to sleep on comfortably.
Sam went to the hall closet and pulled out a pillow and a blanket, tossing them onto the couch without ceremony. "I'm up at six for deliveries. You'd better be gone by then."
"Sam, I—"
"Don't." His voice was sharp, cutting me off before I could start another useless apology. "Don't say you're sorry. Don't say you didn't know. Don't say Madison fooled you. Just don't." He pointed a finger at me, his expression hard. "One night, Jack. That's it. Tomorrow, you figure something else out."
I nodded, the words catching in my throat. I deserved this, and more.
He disappeared into his bedroom without another word, and I heard the door click shut behind him.
I sank onto the couch that was too short for my frame and pulled the blanket over me. I lay awake most of the night, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, thinking about Harper alone in that hospital bed, with our daughter sleeping in a bassinet beside her. Thinking about Emma, perfect and innocent, so close toher mother, while her father was an outcast on his best friend's couch because he was a fool. Thinking about how completely I'd destroyed everything that mattered.
Morning came too early. Sam was already in the kitchen when I woke up, dressed for work, and pointedly ignoring my presence.
"I'll be out of your way," I said.
"See that you are," was the curt reply.
The raw, searing pain of yesterday - of seeing Emma for the first time, of hearing the absolute finality in Harper's voice - had settled into a cold, heavy dread in the pit of my stomach. I had to see them again. Even if it was just for a minute.
On the drive to the hospital, I passed a flower shop, the buckets of bright blooms just being set out on the sidewalk. My first instinct, the old Jack's instinct, was to pull over and buy the biggest bouquet they had. A grand gesture. An apology wrapped in cellophane.
I kept driving. Flowers were an excuse. An easy way for me to feel like I was doing something. What Harper needed wasn't a gesture; she needed a husband. The husband I hadn't been.
The maternity ward felt different today. Yesterday, it had been a blur of panic and desperation. Today, it was just quiet. I paused at the door, which was slightly ajar. I could hear Harper's soft voice, murmuring to Emma. My heart clenched. They were my world, and yet I felt every bit like the outsider I was.
I knocked softly.
Harper looked up as I entered. The mask was already in place, but today I could see the exhaustion underneath it. The last twenty-four hours had clearly taken their toll.
"Jack," she said. It wasn't a question, just a flat statement of fact.
"I just... I wanted to see how you both were doing," I said, my hands feeling useless at my sides.
"We're fine," she replied, her gaze dropping back to the tiny bundle in her arms.
