I stared at the white gold disc, running the cold metal delicately between my fingers. It seemed surreal, something that I couldn't fathom. Of all of the things that I had thought Jake was hiding, having another family was not one of them.

Surely it isn't true. It can't be, I found myself thinking. There had to be a more logical answer. But my doubts were squandered, as I picked up the final item in the box. It was a photo of a young, happy family- of Jake's family.

The man in the picture barely resembled the Jake Lucero that I knew. Sure, he was a few years younger, but the differences ran deeper than that. The man in the photo was joyful and untroubled, whereas the Jake I knew now seemed haunted. The old Jake had a smile that was genuine and reached to his ears; my version had to force his smiles and had far more worry lines than a man his age should. 

I stared at the photo of the young, carefree Jake as he kissed a beautiful woman on the cheek. The woman had long brown hair, kind eyes, and a contagious smile. You could tell, even in the photo, that the couple was deeply in love with one another. There, on Jake's ring finger, was the wedding band that was lying in my hand at that very moment.

Jake's arms were occupied by a baby boy, who couldn't have been more than a few months old. A toddler with dark curls sat in the woman's lap, covering her mouth playfully as she watched her parents showing affection. They all looked so happy.

As I stared at the photo, I felt a piece of me wither. No matter what the connection was that we seemed to have for one another, Jake would never look at me the way he was looking at the young mother in the photo. He was unequivocally in love with her. There was no way I could compete with that. She was the real reason Jake didn't want anything more from me than friendship. I was nothing more to him than a fling, a side piece.

But the joke was on him because I refused to be someone's homewrecker. 

I had worked myself up for a few hours, preparing to confront Jake about the photo. One way or another, the truth was coming out. For the first time in a long time, I was waiting for Jake when he came home from work that night. A look of pleasant surprise crossed his face when he saw me at the kitchen table, my arms crossed in front of my chest.

"Hey, Cat. What's up?" he asked tentatively.

I wasn't sure where to begin. I hated confrontation, and I worried that Jake would get upset. Or worse yet, that he would be brutally honest, that I'd learn I was 'the other woman', and that Jake never liked me at all. I knew the conversation would be uncomfortable, no matter the result. Realizing that there was no point in prolonging the inevitable, I took a deep breath and dived ripped the band-aid off. 

"Jake... we need to talk," I said.

"Okay," he said, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He placed his work bag on the floor and walked hesitantly into the kitchen. He pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, his eyes guarded. "What's up?"

I reached into my laptop case, and pulled out the framed photo, setting it on the table between us. I didn't say a word. I just watched as his eyes widened in recognition. Guilt coursed through me at the look of pain that flashed across his face. But this only lasted momentarily, before it transformed into indescribable anger. 

"Where did you get that?" he asked through gritted teeth. His voice was even and steady, but I could see angry fire dancing in his eyes.

"You know where I found it," I muttered, suddenly ashamed that I had meddled. "I know I shouldn't have invaded your personal space, but I'm not sorry that I did. You could have told me you had another family, Jake," I said.

His jaw clenched like he was trying to contain his anger. 

"I like you, but I don't want to be anyone's homewrecker," I confessed. "At least now I can rest easy knowing why you reacted the way you did the other night."

Silence stretched through the kitchen as Jake stared at me with narrowed eyes. I had to look away, unable to meet his infuriated gaze.

"You think that I'm cheating on my wife, with you?" he asked, his voice eerily still.

"Well, yeah," I replied, muddled and a little offended by his reaction. My face heated.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Catalina," he snarled.

I wanted to tell him to be honest, that if he wasn't having an affair, what was the problem? But instead, my eyes lingered on his ring finger, where I could barely discern the tan lines that indicated where a ring was once worn. Jake removed his hands from the kitchen table and hid them in his lap, out of my sight.

"What were you even doing in my bedroom?" he asked, gripping angrily at his hair. "I let you stay here, and you repay me by violating my privacy? You had no right!" he bellowed, bringing his fist down to the table.

The resulting bang that resonated through the room made me jump. I could see the ferocious rage dancing in his deep brown eyes as he stared at me with hatred. There was no semblance left of the cheerful man from the photo. His cheeks were deep scarlet, and his breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling with anger. To say that Jake was upset would be an understatement.

"Jake... please," I said, bringing my hands up in a defensive gesture. This wasn't how I wanted this conversation to go. I tried to help him calm down, but nothing could tame the wild beast that I had unleashed.

"I'm sorry.... I was just...I just wanted to know what you were hiding from me," I mumbled, contrite.

"If I wanted you to know that information, Catalina, I would have told you, dammit!" he growled, kicking his work bag across the room. "This was obviously something I wanted to keep to myself, but it's clear that you don't give a damn about anyone else's personal space!"

"I just thought I had a right to know..."

"You had no such right!" he shouted. My eyes widened in alarm as he pointed his finger in my face. "My family is none of your concern! Of all of the things that you've done so far, this one takes the cake. I'm done with you and your bullshit, all of it. Fuck this situation, and fuck you!"  

With a huff, he grabbed his keys and wallet and stomped from the room.

"Jake... I-I'm sorry!" I stuttered, calling after him, but it was too late. Jake was already out of the house, slamming the front door behind him, leaving me crying alone in the kitchen.

                      * * * * * * * * * *

The hours passed by excruciatingly slow, as I waited on Jake to return home. I sent multiple texts throughout the night, apologizing for my poor behavior, but he never responded. I wanted to slap myself in the face and ask what I was thinking. It was so out of character for me to rummage through someone else's personal property, especially when that someone had been so good to me in my time of need.

This behavior wasn't me. I wasn't the type of woman who became so obsessed with a man, or who freaked out when he didn't reciprocate her feelings. I never felt the pang of jealousy when I pictured someone I cared about with another woman. I was taught to be independent and to rely on no one but myself, but where was that woman at now? My reaction over a fifteen-year-old picture was irrational. No wonder Jake was pissed.

It was nearly dawn, and I still hadn't heard from Jake. I understood why he was ignoring me. He was right; I had crossed a line. I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment and overstepped my boundaries.

Still, it was unlike Jake to leave the house so abruptly and not tell me where he was going or when he would be home. He hadn't stayed out all night like this since I'd moved in. I was starting to get worried that something had happened to him. I'd never forgive myself if he left in a huff and ended up hurt.

I dialed Jake's number again, chewing my fingernails nervously, and praying that he would answer.

"Jake... it's me again," I said, leaving him a voicemail for the fifth time that night. "I just wanted to say again how sorry I am. Please, just call me back and tell me that you're okay. Please."

Harley watched with consoling eyes as I paced frantically around the living room. He whimpered, and I gave him a watery smile. "It's going to be okay," I said, though I wasn't sure which of us I was trying to convince.

I walked into the kitchen and poured myself another cup of coffee. I was about to take the first sip from the mug when the sound of a key in the front lock echoed through the house. I swiftly ran to the foyer, spilling coffee on the floor along the way.

"Jake?" I called before I could even see who was there.

"He's here," a deep voice said from the shadows. I leaned in to get a better look and saw Jake's friend, Dwayne. He was holding up a belligerent Jake, who stumbled over the doorstep.

"Oh... what happened to him?" I asked as Jake mumbled incoherently.

"We went to the bar, and Jake had one too many," Dwayne said, dragging Jake's limp body over the threshold. "I told him to slow down, but he wouldn't listen. He just kept taking shots until he couldn't stand up straight. I haven't seen him drink like that in a long time," Dwayne said, his eyebrows furrowing together in worry. 

I ran forward to support Jake's free arm, and Dwayne and I dragged him up the stairs. I had to breathe through my mouth because the stench of booze and vomit emanating from Jake was so strong, it was making me gag.

Jake hardly noticed as we plopped him carefully onto his bed. I doubled over and placed my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. Jake was at least two hundred pounds. Carrying him upstairs was a lot of work for my small stature. Even Dwayne seemed out of breath. We made eye contact and started laughing. 

"How have you been, Catalina?" Dwayne asked between breaths. "I haven't seen you since the last time that Jake was unconscious. I guess some things just don't change," he muttered, glancing down at comatose Jake. 

I laughed, the action feeling good on my aching heart. "I'm doing okay," I lied. "I'm surprised that you remember me."

"Well, it would be hard to forget you when you're all Jake has been talking about since returning to work," he said with a playful smile.

I felt my cheeks heat. "Jake talks about me?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. Whatever grip you've got on this guy, it's a tight one."

"Not tight enough," I mumbled, looking at the unconscious man lying before me.

Dwayne gave me a sympathetic smile. "Don't beat yourself up. Jake has some demons that he's been battling for a while now, and he doesn't always deal with them in the healthiest way. Whatever is going on, he will come around. Just give him time."

I nodded as I stared at Jake, who was now drooling onto his pillowcase. "Thank you for bringing him home."

"Of course," Dwayne said. "It's not my first rodeo. Jake used to get wasted far more often than this." I raised my eyebrows questioningly. "It's always worried me. But he hasn't drank this way for a while now. Not since he met you, anyway. Now he speeds off the moment his shifts are over, eager to get back home to you. You're good for him, Cat."

I glanced at the floor, my guilt resurfacing. As much as I would like to think I'd helped Jake overcome some of the issues of his past, after tonight, I wasn't so sure I'd had as much of an effect as Dwayne implied. If anything, I was the reason he was drinking again.

I could feel Dwayne's eyes on me, measuring my reaction. If he sensed my sorrow, he didn't let it show. 

"Well, it's getting late. I'd better get home," he said. "Maybe the next time we get together, it won't be over the fumes of a drunken and sweaty man. It would be nice to see you at some point when Jake isn't passed out," he said with a playful smile.

"It does seem like that's what always brings us together," I laughed. "I'd love that. I'll tell Jake to set up the plans."

If he ever speaks to me again, I thought to myself.

I walked Dwayne to the front door and wished him a good night, before heading back upstairs. Now that I knew where Jake was and that he was safe, I could finally get some much-needed sleep.

On my way to my bed, I glimpsed inside Jake's room for just a moment. He was more alert, but still belligerently drunk, his body hanging halfway off of the bed in his semi-conscious state. He was murmuring under his breath, though I could only make out bits and pieces of what he was saying.

I sighed as I watched him, unsure if I was angry with him for being so impulsively reckless, or just grateful that he was home. I was too tired to dig into that tonight. Besides, he was pitiful, covered in his own sickness, and muttering like a toddler who didn't know how to speak yet.

With a sigh, I helped Jake to his feet and into the bathroom. I took off his soiled clothes so I could wash the chunks of throw-up from his hair. Once his body was decontaminated, and his filthy bedsheets changed, I helped him into a clean pair of boxers and tucked him beneath the thick comforter.

As I was helping him to bed, Jake gazed at me with his deep, brown eyes. "Cat?" he mumbled feebly.

"Yes, I'm here," I said cautiously, unsure whether he was still upset with me.

"Cat... I'm so sorry." His eyes were filling with tears.

"Hush now," I said, brushing his warm cheek with my thumb. "We don't need to talk about that tonight. Just go to sleep."

He gave me a small nod and closed his eyes. Within seconds, the loud vibrations of his snores filled the room. I sighed and turned off the lights, heading back to the guest room. The stress of the long night weighed heavily on me, and I could feel my eyelids beginning to droop. I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers and nuzzle up with Harley.

As I stared at the ceiling of the bedroom, waiting for sleep to take me, my mind was on Jake in the next room. That man was stubborn and infuriating, egocentric and selfish. But the stress of tonight had taught me one thing, and it was just how much I cared for him.

If only he could have felt the same thing for me, I thought, before falling into a restless sleep.

Thank you for reading! If you are enjoying this story so far, don't forget to vote! :)

© Dawn Norwell