I don't when she'll come home, I don't know if she'll come home and at this point, I'm prepared for the worst. I sit alone in our bedroom, my journal in my hand and the pen in my other. My face is cut and swollen from Noah's beating the other day, and I don't want to face the reality of Kacey wanting nothing to do with me.
I let out a loud sigh as I stare at the empty sheet of paper; my thoughts rapidly racing around my skull as I sit in the eerie silence. I begin to scribble in my journal, transferring the thoughts from my brain to the pad of paper.
'When I look at my day, I realize that most of it was spent cleaning up the damage of the day before. In that life, I don't have a future, all I have is distraction and remorse. I lost her; I lost my children. As cliché as this sounds, part of me left with them. Half of my left when she was in that coma, fighting on the edge of life and death. A part I barely knew, a part I may never see again. Every day is a new box, you open it and take a look at what's inside. You decide if it's a gift or a coffin.'
I can feel tears threaten to spill from my eyes and I brush them away with my hand before going back to my journal and finishing my thought processing. 'That's what I need to tell you. I need to let you know how hard I'm trying not to cave under the weight of all the awful things I feel in my heart. Sometimes my life feels like a deadly balancing act, when I feel slamming up against what I should do, impulsive reactions racing to solutions miles ahead of my brain.'
I look around the still bedroom and my heart breaks with each reminder of Kacey and the kids. Kacey's clothes still hang in the closet, and the photos of us hung around the walls; everyone smiling brightly as she holds Sadie in her arms and Abel sits on my side. How can I be a support system to her when I am the reason for her coma? If she wasn't involved with me, she'd never be in that situation. Clay would've never felt threatened, and Kacey would've been in the clear.
I know Noah and Jeff hate me. I know that my children will grow to hate me, and even if Kacey refuses to acknowledge it; she resents me for what I've put her through. I stand up from the end of the bed and rub a hand over my face; wiping away the tears and visible pain. I hear a knock at the door, and I head towards it. I peer out of the side window and can see Chibs standing there. I sigh and open the door to let him out. "Hey, bro."
Chibs looks at my face in surprise and lifts his sunglasses so that I can see his expression. "The hell happened to you, Jackie Boy?"
I shake my head, not wanting to get into it. "Family domestic." I tell him shortly before he steps into the house, looking around and noticing Kacey and the kids are gone. He raises an eyebrow and I sigh, knowing he's concerned. "I came clean about sleeping with people when she was in her coma. Didn't take it too well."
Chibs just nods and clears his throat before looking over at me, "Does she know what put her in the coma?"
I scoff, knowing damn well she won't be finding out anytime soon. "Of course not. I can't tell her about the other women then let her know what Clay did." Chibs knows everything, and he's been my rock the last few years with everything going on surrounding my home life and family. "It'll be too much, and I don't want her to think I'm hiding even more from her."
The man nods, understanding my perspective. "I get it. You don't need to explain to me." He says before running a hand through his hair. "You comin' in to help out today?"
I shrug, not knowing if I'm in the place for it. "I'm not sure. Nothing big is going on today, right? Can you inventory the guns with some of the prospects?"
Chibs nods, "Not a problem." And with that, we're interrupted by the door opening. I turn around to see who's coming into the house, and my heart drops when I see Kacey coming in through the front door. Her hair is a mess, and her face is make-up free showing off her freckles. She's wearing an oversized plaid shirt, probably her dad's, and a pair of black leggings and white converse.
