CHAPTER 4 JOLENE

Just making sure you're okay today?

Is he fucking kidding me?

No, I'm not okay! My heart is broken and it's his fault. And my body very nearly was, too, at my own hands but he can take his part of the blame for that, too.

Rivera's article published. Any guesses who had the byline on that one? Ryan Douchebag Rivera.

The article details the history between our families, and he has more than one named source who says what Eddie did to my dad was intentional. My chest feels heavy and my heart physically hurts when I read the quote from Edward Nash about this whole thing.

"I did it to protect my son, and I told him that, too, when I confessed what I'd done."

People may wonder why this is all coming out now, two decades after the event, and Rivera doesn't address that in the story. He doesn't say how he wants to ruin my life and will stop at nothing to do it.

Well…mission accomplished.

I've lost everything except Jonah, and I will cling onto him with my dying breath. And even with him…I feel him slipping from my grasp as I'm made to look the fool again and again. My life is spinning out of control just like that car, and Rivera is the man behind all of it.

After the accident last night and this article and a microscope over my life, I'm certain no judge will grant me full parental rights—which just proves Jeremy was working this whole time to help Rivera.

What a mess.

It's why I can't bring myself to answer Lincoln's text. Or his calls, really. Sam was clear that I need to rest today, and having my blood pressure skyrocket with this bullshit isn't real relaxing.

So I ignore him.

I ignore my mother's call, too, and my father's a little later.

My father.

A sense of guilt washes over me. It's my fault he had to stop playing the game he loved. I was at the root of why Eddie did what he did.

I want to talk to my father. I should answer.

But I can't bring myself to face any of this today—especially not since I'm gearing up for the difficult conversation of letting my son know we won't be going ahead with that whole plan to move in with his real-life hero.

I ignore Lincoln when he tries again.

I lay in bed and cry away most of the day. I flip through the pictures of us when we were happy that are saved to my phone, and my finger hovers over the delete button.

I can't make myself press it.

I force myself to shower and to eat, and then I get back in bed. I try to watch a Netflix show, but I can't concentrate—a nice side effect of the concussion.

I can't make any big decisions right now, but the decision to end it with Lincoln came well before the concussion.

All I can think about is that horrible article and how it's going to affect my life moving forward. Rivera really covered all the bases, making me look like a fool for taking Lincoln back and making Lincoln look like a manipulative liar. Somehow Eddie came out looking like a golden boy for confessing the sins he committed in order to protect his son—something any other parent would've done.

Except any other parent might've also attempted to protect their son's heart during the detonation and possibly avoided criminally assaulting another man and ending his career too soon.

That's not how the article made it sound.

Admittedly, part of me feels bad for Lincoln that he was put in that position. I realize he had no control over what his father did all those years ago. He was just doing what he thought he had to do as a teenager.

But he didn't have to keep it from me once we reconnected. That was a choice he made, and it's that choice I can't seem to force myself to get over.

It's about an hour before the kids are supposed to get home when I hear the front door open and slam shut.

"Jolene?" Sam calls.

"In here," I yell back, mostly because I'm comfortable under my covers and I don't really have any desire to get up before Jonah gets home.

She walks into my room. "You're pregnant?" she demands.

I close my eyes and sink back into my pillow. "You looked at my chart? That's a violation of my privacy."

"You told me yesterday I could look, so I did. I wanted to make sure you had the right home care."

She called my bluff, dammit. Dammit!

"You wanna talk about it?" she asks.

"I sure don't. If I did, I would have told you about it last night."

"Oh, so it's okay for you to keep secrets…but not him?"

I offer her a glare rather than a reply.

She sits on the edge of the bed. "Babe, I know you're hurting right now, but that doesn't mean it has to be the end."

I close my eyes. "You told me to rest today. This isn't restful."

She sighs. "I know. And it's okay to be mad. But is it really worth throwing away everything the two of you have…everything you could have?" She glances toward my stomach.

"I'm not throwing it away, Sam," I protest, but my voice is weak as I say the words. "He did this. He had every chance in the world to come clean, and he didn't."

"What good would it have done if he had?" she asks. "It would've only made things worse. Think about it, Jo. I know you're upset, and you have every right to be. But try putting yourself in his shoes. He fell for a sports reporter who was covering his team. You think he didn't have reservations about what to share with you and when?"

I close my eyes. "I get what you're saying. But I only have another hour before Jonah gets here, and I really just want to be alone."

She purses her lips. "Okay. I will leave you be. But I'm here if you need anything. And you know you have to tell him." She nods meaningfully toward my stomach.

I know she's right even though I don't admit that to her. I'm just not sure how that's going to shake out.

And I also know that I'm not ready to even consider splitting time with him where our baby is concerned. I already do that with Jonah. I can't fathom doing it with another baby, another dad, and another set of rules and responsibilities.

I close my eyes and will away the pain, but it's there. Not in my head. Not in my stomach. Not even in my wrist.

Right there smack dab in my heart.

"Mom!" Jonah's voice pulls me from the state of half-awake, half-asleep when he rushes in my room to my side. "Are you okay? Sam said you were in an accident!"

He climbs onto my bed, and I sit up to give him a hug. "I'm okay, baby. I'm okay."

"What happened?" His little voice sounds so worried, and I feel awful that I'm the root cause of that anxiety.

"It was a car accident. I lost control when I swerved to avoid hitting a motorcycle. Lincoln was with me, and he's okay, too. I just banged up my wrist a little." I hold it up for him to see, and he presses a gentle kiss to it.

"There, all better, just like you do for me."

Tears pinch behind my eyes. "You're such a good boy. And that's why what I have to tell you next is going to hurt so much."

His brows pinch together. "What is it?"

I clear my throat and heave in a breath. "I decided to end things with Lincoln. We're not going to be moving in with him after all."

He's silent a beat, and then he starts to cry.

My broken heart seems to shatter a little more.

"I'm so, so sorry, honey," I murmur.

"Why?" he begs through his tears.

"Things just aren't going to work out between us." I keep it simple, making sure not to place any blame on Lincoln to Jonah even though in my heart, I feel like it's all his fault. If he just would've told me…

Then what?

Is Sam right?

Would it have made any real difference?

"Was Grampy right about him?" he asks. "That he's a bad man?"

I shake my head. "No, no. Nothing like that. He's not a bad man. He's just not the right man for me."

"How come?" he cries.

I blow out a breath…and that's when I realize it's one question I really don't have the answer to.