She Gets a Text

My phone buzzes in my purse as I’m loading groceries into the car. The screen lights up with a message from an unsaved number, but I know exactly who it is.

**Dunk:**

Hey Mrs. Stevens… it’s me. I know this is sudden, but I’m really struggling today. The urge is bad. Worse than usual. If you’re still willing to help keep me from doing something stupid… can you come by my apartment? I’m home alone. Door’s unlocked if you decide to. No pressure, but I could really use you right now.

I stare at the text for a long minute, the cold December air biting at my cheeks. My thumb hovers over the keyboard.

This is insane. I’m a married woman. A mother. I should delete the message, block the number, tell my daughter everything.

But then I picture her face again—how she glows when she talks about him, how excited she is for New Year’s Eve plans she doesn’t even know involve a ring. And I remember his voice in the grocery store: ashamed, ****, begging me to help him stay faithful in the only way he thinks he can.

I’m too damn soft-hearted. Always have been.

I type back before I can talk myself out of it.

**Me:**

Give me 20 minutes. We set ground rules first. This stays strictly about helping you manage the condition. Nothing more. Understood?

The reply comes almost instantly.

**Dunk:**

Understood. Thank you. Seriously… thank you. I’ll be waiting.

I toss the groceries in the trunk, slide into the driver’s seat, and sit there for another moment with my hands on the wheel. My heart is already pounding.

What am I doing?

I start the engine anyway, pull out of the parking lot, and head toward his apartment building on the other side of town.

The entire drive, I keep telling myself this is for my daughter. That I’m protecting her future. That I’m the only one who can keep him from truly betraying her.

By the time I park outside his building, my palms are sweaty despite the winter chill.

I take a deep breath, grab my purse, and walk up to his door.

It’s unlocked, just like he said.

I step inside, closing it softly behind me.

“Dunk?” I call out quietly, my voice steadier than I feel.

His deep voice answers from the living room.

“In here, Mrs. Stevens.”

This is it. No turning back now.