Two months later she’d agreed to counseling. Her therapist had asked if she’d thought about harming herself. She hadn’t, not until he mentioned it. If she hadn’t had the support of her parents and from her therapist, she may have gone down into that rabbit hole. Luckily, if that word could even be used, she never really contemplated suicide.
She knew how unfair it would be to her parents and to her brother. There’d been too many stories of it on the news, and she didn’t want to be another statistic.
Not knowing what to do with herself, she’d volunteered at the shelter with her mom and found a new sense of comfort in taking care of poor, abandoned animals. When she went a week without crying, she started searching online for jobs.
For what exactly, she didn’t know. Then she spotted the ad for a caretaker. No experience necessary. Only an hour and a half from her parents. Close, yet far enough to start over.
A loud raspy sigh from behind brought her back to her current condition.
“Jerry.” She slipped away from Tristan and rushed to Jerry’s side. “Are you okay?”
“Hard to ... sleep with ... you ... two ... chatt ... erring.” He managed a weak smile.
“You’re one to talk, Mr. Chatterbug. Seems I can rarely get a word in with you rambling on about the same old stories over and over again.” The joke never got old, especially since she was the one who asked him to tell the stories over and over again.
“Luke ... and Laura.”
“You want to watch your soap? It’s two in the morning.”
“Luke ... and Laura.”
Every now and then he’d refer to the show with the two original cast members. It was their wedding that reminded Jerry of his and Brigette’s love affair, so of course, he held on to it.
“Are you sure you’re up for it?” He’d fall asleep before the first commercial for sure.
“Can I help?” Tristan offered.
“Do you want to sit in your wheelchair or the recliner?”
“Re ... cliner.”
“Your wish is my command.” She drew back the covers and slipped her arm under his legs.
“Jenna. Allow me to help.” It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t a push to be the alpha male or an insult to her ability to carry Jerry. With Tristan, it was always about chivalry.
“Okay.” She stepped back and reached for the afghan at the foot of the bed. She grabbed the oxygen tank and followed them to the living room.
When Tristan had Jerry settled, she covered his lap with his wool blanket and his shoulders with his afghan.
“I take it you’re not up to speed on all the happenings in Port Charles?”
“I haven’t heard of the town. Is it close by?”
“About eight feet.” She picked up the remote and turned on the television, scrolling through the recordings until she got to the last episode Jerry had seen. “Jerry doesn’t like when people talk through the shows. If you have something to say, wait for the commercial.”
“Noted,” he said with his signature wink.
She curled her feet under her in her usual spot at the end of the couch and drew the blanket over her feet. Tristan sat by her side instead of at the opposite end. It had been a while since someone sat in the middle of the couch.
Normally she was there by herself.
This was nice.
Very nice.
Too nice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Tristan didn’t care that the show had terrible acting or cheesy lines. He’d sit there all night, every night, watching soap operas and Hallmark movies if it meant being with Jenna again.
When she mentioned suicide, he nearly broke. It was one thing to be without her in his life, but to have her gone—really gone, forever? He couldn’t imagine her being that selfish, to take her life away from her parents and brother. From him.
His gut tightened. She was the least selfish person he knew. If she’d contemplated it even for a second, then she was hurting more than he understood. More than he was capable of understanding. He shouldn’t have let her push him away. He should have known it was the grief talking.
In the beginning, he knew it. For the first month he understood her words, because he felt them too. Not at her. At God. At fate. At the world. Only he wasn’t the one who had been carrying their child. He wasn’t the one who had her ripped out from his insides only to discover he’d never be the same again.
Tristan could still have children, Jenna had yelled that at him over and over again. Had she pushed him away in a selfless act so he could marry someone else and have a family?
The thought never crossed his mind until now. Chills ran up and down his spine. He’d been too riddled with grief to see she’d set him free to start over while she thought herself unworthy.
Hell. He should have known better. They were one unit. They knew each other’s thoughts, breathed each other’s air. He should have known her cruel words were for his benefit.
The light from the television shone bright enough for him to see the glistening in Jenna’s eyes as she watched the show. Just enough to see the trembling chin, the quaking shoulders.
He shifted closer and took her hand in his. She turned her head and gave him a sad smile before returning her wet, dull eyes back to the television.
By the end of the episode, Jerry had fallen asleep.
“Should we move him back to his bed?” Tristan rubbed his thumb across the back of Jenna’s hand.
“No. He’ll want to watch the last two episodes when he wakes up.” She hit the pause button on the remote.
“Does he normally watch television in the middle of the night?”
She shook her head. “Never.”
“Why don’t you lay down and get some rest as well.” He shifted over so she could stretch her legs out and fixed the blanket.
“Will you lay with me?” Her sad eyes begged him.
“There’s no place I’d rather be.” Even if their relationship didn’t go any further than this, Tristan would forever be a happy man.
He slid next to her, half his body hanging off the couch, giving her space if she needed it.
“You don’t seem comfortable. Scoot closer.”
Apparently, space wasn’t necessary. He obliged quite willingly, moving over her body and wedging himself between her and the back of the couch.
“Do you want the outside?”
“I figured you’d want to keep an eye on Jerry.”
Her face softened, and she blinked rapidly, holding back tears he guessed. Nodding in affirmation, she squeezed her eyes shut and shifted so her back was to him and nestled her butt into his stomach.
He draped his arm around her and pulled her in tighter and kissed the back of her head. “Good night, angel.” The endearment slipped out. It was what he used to say to her every night when they went to bed.
She didn’t reply, which was for the best. Closing his eyes, he willed sleep to come. It did. For only a minute.
They woke to Jerry’s coughing. Jenna leaped from the couch and tapped repeatedly on his back.
“It’s okay. It’s okay.” She caressed his chest with one hand working his back with the other.
Tristan knelt on the hardwood floor next to them, massaging Jerry’s legs as he’d seen Jenna do on occasion.
“Take it easy, big guy, we’re right here.”
The coughing subsided, and Jerry let out a long sigh. Jenna readjusted the oxygen tubes. “I’ll get you some water. I’ll be right back.”
“I can get it.” Tristan started to rise, but she put her hand on his shoulder.
“I got it.”
He nodded in understanding. She needed a moment to compose herself. With every coughing attack, Jerry grew weaker and weaker, his breathing more labored.
“She cares a lot about you.” He patted Jerry’s knee.
“And you.”
He couldn’t help the boyish smirk that escaped him. “She’s a special lady.”
“There’s ... nothing li
ke ... your first ... love.” Jerry’s breathing steadied. His words weren’t as scratchy, even if they came out slow. “She gets ... ahold of ... your heart.” He took a few breaths before continuing. “And shows you ... love in a way ... you never thought ... imaginable.”
Jerry’s arm wiggled under the blanket until his hand came free. He curled his fingers as if calling Tristan closer. Reaching down, he held onto the old, gnarled hand.
“Hold ... on ... to that.” Tristan was moved by the man’s words. Saying so much was taxing on him, taking the little bit of energy he had, yet Jerry continued. “Embrace it.” His frail hand squeezed Tristan’s with more force than he thought possible. “Make it ... grow ... and shine ... until you’re both...” Again, he closed his eyes while he breathed in and out. “One.”
“Jerry?” Tristan hadn’t known the man long, yet watching him die literally before his eyes, in his hands, had his throat tightening, his eyes burning.
“I ... love ... her.” His breathing slowed as his hand went lax in Tristan’s. “You ... love ... her ... too.”
“Jerry?” He couldn’t see through the pools of tears in his eyes. “Jerry,” he said louder, wiping the wetness from his face.
Jenna rushed in the room and dropped the glass of water on the floor. The glass shattered, and she ran through it, falling to her knees at the recliner.
“No. Not yet. Don’t leave me.” She dropped her head into his lap and sobbed.
Tristan sat back on his heels and let Jenna have her time with Jerry. The scene was too familiar, stirring up memories from his past he’d worked years to suppress. Not the memories of Jenna, but the picture of her near-lifeless body curled in a ball refusing to be touched. The moaning and wretched sobbing only to be replaced with her yelling. He wasn’t sure which sound he preferred.
Those agonizing months took years off his life and destroyed their marriage. Seeing Jenna in pain again, mourning someone she cared for, twisted his still mending heart.
When she finally came up for air, she wiped her arm across her eyes and sat on the floor next to Tristan.
“Did he, did he say anything before he died?” She sniffed her words.
Tristan drew her into his side. “He said he loved you.”
“He did?”
“You don’t doubt that, do you?”
“No.” She hiccupped back her tears. “He’s said it before. I hope he died knowing how much I loved him. I wish you could have heard some of his stories. He had a rough life, but he stayed so positive all the time.” She rested her head on his shoulder, and he nestled his nose in her hair.
“You can carry on those stories. I’d love to hear them someday.”
“Okay.”
It didn’t take long for Jenna to fall asleep. When he was sure she was completely out, he picked her up and carried her to her room and nestled her bear into her arms. As tempting as it was to crawl into bed with her, he left her alone, closing the door behind him.
The slow murmur of the oxygen machine was the only noise coming from the living room. A beam of light from the paused television lit up Jerry as if an angel being sent up to Heaven.
Which he surely was.
“Rest in peace, good man.” Tristan turned off the machine and gently picked him up and carried him to his bed.
For the next hour, he cleaned up the broken glass, did the dishes, and finding a screwdriver, tightened the screws in the cabinets so they hung straight.
At some point, he’d fallen asleep on the couch until a knocking on the porch door woke him. Rubbing his eyes from the bright sun pouring in the windows, he stretched and answered the door.
“You,” Carter greeted him with an unfriendly snort. “Let me guess. This time you forgot your keys?”
He couldn’t blame the boyfriend for being jealous, and now was not the time to cause a row.
“Jerry passed away last night. This morning, actually. Early.”
“Shit.” Carter rubbed his hand through his hair. “How is Jenna holding up?”
“She’s sleeping. I hope. She’s been up all night.”
“And you just happened to be here?” Carter held up the bottle of wine from the front porch that Tristan had left the night before.
“Something like that.” More than anything, he wanted to be there for Jenna when she woke up, but he respected her enough not to interfere with her personal life right now.
He would. Oh, he would, but not now. Taking the high road, he opened the door wide for Carter.
“Come in.”
Carter grunted as he passed through the door.
“Listen, I need to leave.” He didn’t. He’d made arrangements for his sous chef to take care of the lunch event he had this afternoon. “But Jenna shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’ll stay with her.”
“Her car is still at the hospital. I can ask one of her friends to pick it up.”
“I’ll call someone. Her friends are my friends.”
This was the “whose dick is bigger” game Jenna had referred to.
“Okay.” Again. Now was not the time for a pissing match. “Thank you.” He held out his hand and hoped Carter refused to shake it.
If he didn’t, it meant he could be an asshole. If he did, it meant he could be a decent human being.
He shook it.
“Uh, thanks for being with her last night. I’m glad she wasn’t alone.”
Hell. He took the high road as well. Tristan should have figured as much. Jenna wouldn’t date a loser.
Picking up his keys from the coffee table, he gave Carter a curt nod before leaving. It killed him to leave Jenna.
It killed him even more to leave her with another man.
JENNA DIDN’T KNOW WHAT she would have done without her friends. “You guys, thank you.” She covered the half-eaten dish of stuffed shells and put it in the refrigerator next to the container of corn chowder.
“No need to thank us. We’re here for you, hun.” Mia opened her arms. “Group hug.”
Lily, Hope, Alexis, and Grace moved in, each outstretching their arms until all six of them were one big unit.
“We all loved Jerry.” Lily rested her head on Jenna’s shoulder.
“He’s been a staple of this town since before I was born,” Alexis said, dropping her arms. “My parents offered to help pack the house when you’re ready.”
“It’s not a matter of when or if I’m ready. I meet with the estate attorney tomorrow. I assume they’ll want to put the house on the market as soon as possible.”
“I always loved this house.” Hope picked up the pitcher of sangria she made earlier and topped their glasses, but not her own. “It has so much character.”
“The kitchen sucks.”
“Nice, Mia,” Lily scolded.
“It really does.” Jenna laughed. “You should have seen Tristan the other day when he made dinner.”
“Wait. What?” Mia paused, her drink halfway to her lips. “Tristan, as in the hot cook who does the pairing shit with Alexis?”
“Pairing shit? Remind me to never ask you to help me with marketing or PR for the winery.”
“Carter’s good at marketing. He does my website. I thought you and he were a thing? Does he know about your dinner date?” Grace slid elegantly into one of the battered kitchen chairs and crossed her legs. Her pursed lips gave off the impression of a huntress on the hunt for juicy gossip.
“It wasn’t a dinner date.”
“He cooked dinner in your shitty kitchen. I’d call that a dinner date.”
“My shitty wine pairing and now you’re dissing on Jerry’s kitchen? Real nice, Mia. We should let Jenna rest. No offense, but you sound exhausted.”
“Hope, you’re kinda weathered as well. And don’t think I haven’t noticed your lack of drinking...” Mia’s eyes grew wide, and her mouth dropped open to a big O.
Jenna gasped and looked from Mia to Hope, her gaze traveling down to her stomach then back up to her face. She’d be terrible at poker.
Hope chewed on her bottom lip in a poor attempt to hide her grin.
“You’re pregnant?” Lily squealed, jumping out of her seat to hug Hope. Grace followed suit as did the rest of her friends. The emptiness in her heart, in her belly, was even more evident now, but she wouldn’t let jealousy come between her and her friends.
Jenna joined them in a group hug.
“We’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you guys,” Hope said when they finally gave her air and sat back down.
“How far along are you?” Jenna asked.
“Three months.”
“You little liar, you,” Mia accused. “I asked you point blank when we went dancing. Don’t think I didn’t notice you passing your drinks off to me and Grace.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want to take the limelight away from Lily’s wedding. And now with Jenna mourning Jerry ... I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize.” Jenna reached for Hope’s hand. “This is the perfect time to share your happiness. Jerry and Brigitte are celebrating with you in Heaven right now, I’m sure. He’d love to know your news was shared around his kitchen table where he shared so many memories with his wife.”
They sobered for a moment and sipped their wine while Hope got up to pour herself a glass of water.
“I know baby talk is great for some of you, but right now I want to know about the steamy, sexy stuff.”
“Mia! Hope is not going to tell us about the night she conceived.” Lily tapped Mia on the hand in a gentle reprimand.
“Ew. Gross. No offense. I want to know about the two hot guys Jenna is seeing.”
“I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Carter thinks otherwise. He’s going to be my brother-in-law in a few months. I love him like a brother and would hate to see him get hurt.” Grace’s perfectly plucked eyebrow arched in a don’t mess with my family warning.
This was why she didn’t want to get close to him. To anyone. “I don’t want to hurt Carter.”
“He likes you. A lot.”
“I know.” She sighed and slumped into a vacant chair, gulping down her sangria.
Finding Our Way Back (A Well Paired Novel) Page 18