Chapter 98: Ninety Eight

I waited and waited, and Jacob stumbled home late that night. The clock on the wall said 2 58 when he entered our bedroom. I had been lying in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sound of his footsteps in the hallway. When the door finally opened and closed, it wasn’t careful or soft, he stumbled through it, heavy and clumsy, the sharp scent of alcohol drifting into the room before he did.

I sat up on the bed, heart hammering. Part of me was relieved he had come back, that he hadn’t just disappeared into the night with his anger and his questions. But another part of me braced itself.

This could be the end of all things.

The bedroom door creaked open, and Jacob appeared in the doorway. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair messy, his eyes glazed but searching. He looked at me for a few minutes, just staring from the hallway. Then, without saying a word, he kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed beside me.

“Jacob,” I whispered, my voice cautious, almost brittle.

But he didn’t respond right away. He reached for me instead, his hand sliding around my waist, pulling me into him. His lips pressed against mine; hot, insistent, tasting faintly of whiskey. The kiss was messy, clumsy, but desperate too, like he needed to remind himself that I was here, that I was his.

“You’re mine,” he muttered against my lips, his voice thick, slurred, but heavy with something more than just the alcohol. He kissed me again, harder this time, as if trying to brand me, to erase every shadow of doubt from his mind. “You’re mine, Willow. Nothing can change that. Do you hear me?”

My chest tightened. I nodded against him, whispering, “Yes.”

He pulled back just enough to look into my eyes. His gaze was clouded but sharp all at once. “Can I trust you?” he asked, his voice breaking just slightly. “Tell me I can trust you.”

“Yes,” I breathed, the word almost a prayer. “You can trust me.”

The truth settled heavy in my chest. I hadn’t told him everything. The kiss with Declan still sat there, just a memory in my head now, unspoken, untouched, too dangerous to bring into the light. But in this moment, with Jacob’s arms around me and his vulnerability naked before me, I couldn’t confess it. Not when I could feel how much it would break him.

He closed his eyes, resting his forehead against mine. “I won’t be able to handle it if anything happens with him,” he whispered. His words were raw, stripped bare of all pretense. “I’ll fall apart, Willow. Don’t… don’t let that happen. Promise me.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. I thought of Declan. The storm, the motel, the brush of fingers in the dark, the kiss at the party. My heart stuttered painfully at the memory, but I pushed it away, shoved it into the darkest corner of myself where I swore it would stay. My chest hurt. I wanted to cry.

“You’re going to be my husband,” I said softly, though my voice trembled. “You’re the father of my child. Nothing will change that. I promise.”

And in that moment, I meant it. I wanted to mean it. I wanted to choose stability, safety, the life we had built together. I wanted Noah to grow up in a home where his parents weren’t at war with themselves, where love wasn’t tangled with regret and longing.

Jacob exhaled, his grip on me loosening slightly, though he didn’t let go. “Good,” he murmured, almost to himself, before pressing a softer kiss to my temple. His breathing began to even out, the alcohol dragging him into sleep, but his hand remained curled against my side as if he feared I might slip away in the night.

I lay there stiff at first, staring into the darkness, listening to his breaths. Guilt coiled through me, sharp and suffocating. He had come home broken and drunk, yes, but he had come home to me. He had chosen to crawl into this bed instead of any other. That had to mean something.

He was better than me at choosing us.

My chest rose and fell with a long breath. This was my life. Jacob was my partner, the man who had stood by me when everything else had fallen apart. He had accepted Noah as his son, loved him as fiercely as if he were his own blood. That mattered more than anything.

I resolved, right there in the quiet of our room, to set my mind straight. No more wondering, no more slipping into old what-ifs with Declan. I couldn’t afford it. Not for myself, not for Noah, and not for Jacob. The kiss at the party had been a mistake, one I would bury so deep it could never resurface.

I turned slightly, resting my hand gently against Jacob’s chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm. My eyes burned, but I blinked back the tears. This was where I belonged. This was the family I had built, and I wouldn’t let it fall apart.

“I’m here,” I whispered, though he was already asleep. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The night stretched on, long and quiet, my thoughts tumbling restlessly even as my body stayed still. But beneath it all, one truth took root, firm and unyielding: I would focus on Jacob and Noah. They were my world, and I couldn’t let anything; even the ghost of a love that still haunted me, tear that apart.

By the time sleep finally pulled me under, my resolve had hardened into something like steel.

Tomorrow, I promised myself. Tomorrow, I would start again.