...Comes From Some Other Beginnings End (Chris Evans A/U)

.34.

Opal POV

I'd piddled around the Inn for as long as possible before slipping into an appointment with my therapist. I'd shared my concerns about Chris and she'd willingly listened, giving her own thoughts. But everything boiled down to the fact that neither of us were truly grieving together which was causing us to act out in our own ways.

My phone dings as I begin heating up a frozen meal that Mila had stocked our freezer with.

Laura- 'Look out. Your husband is on the warpath.'

'What do you mean?' I type back, setting the cell down to stir the soup.

Laura- 'Spencer said they had a really rough afternoon thanks to some of his choices.'

"That doesn't sound like him," I say aloud while typing the same. As soon as I hit send, I hear the front door open and slam shut, rattling the wedding photos we'd hung around the foyer. "Make me eat my words why don't you, Sergeant," I mutter under my breath, tucking my phone into my pocket.

"Opal!" he yells out.

The use of my full name concerns me, making me realize that he normally only uses it when he tries to make me see some sense of something. But his tone this time, doesn't lead me to believe that's the point he's making. "Kitchen," I answer. I hear him getting closer so I continue talking. "I'm heating up some of that minestrone soup Mila made for us. It's the last container of it."

"I'm not planning on staying long. Going to go out to Decker's after I shower," he announces, hanging his keys up on the 'Home Sweet Home' key holder on the wall over the counter.

Decker's again, I think to myself. I feel myself shutting down and fight against it. "Give me a few minutes and I'll join you," I offer, cutting the heat off and moving the soup to the back burner.

"No, that's alright. You stay here, do whatever it is you've been doing," he states, walking out of the room once more.

No kind word, no question of my day and certainly no signs of affection. I lick my lips and bite back the tears that are stinging my eyes as I flip the heat back on.

By the time I hear him coming back downstairs I'm cleaning up from another one of my meals taken alone. My back is to the entryway as I rinse out the dishes and load the dishwasher, only looking up when I see him grab his keys once more.

I notice he looks a little more put together than he would normally for a laid back drink at the bar, making me nervous. But then I also remember that I'm the one that's been bumming around for weeks upon weeks in sweats and oversized t-shirts with rarely washed hair. Maybe he looks put together because I think he should be a mess like myself.

Or is he hoping for someone to take notice of him since his wife hasn't been?

The thought alone makes me sick to my stomach and the words are flying out of my mouth before I can even comprehend them. "Are you cheating on me?"

The fury in his eyes as he snaps his head back to me makes me step back, "What did you just say?"

I swallow my fear, there's no coming back from it now. "Are you cheating on me? Or hoping to be soon?" my tone quiet, solemn at the possibility of his response.

"You're delusional, Opal. That something the therapist is feeding you now? I thought she was suppose to be making things better, not filling your head with lies. What have I done that would even make you think something so idiotic?"

I'm completely taken aback. Chris has never spoken to me this way, through all of the valleys and mountains we've sustained together, not once has he behaved this way towards me. I pull at imaginary strings from the statements, hoping to find one that would tell me what I need to know without making him angrier. "She isn't filling my head with anything except help to get us back to where we were before," my voice trails off, growing quieter as I'm unable to say the words.

"Before what? Say it, Opal! Before we lost him. Before we lost our son. Before we lost Jackson!" He snatches the keys off the hook as I cower back away from him. For a mere moment I see the flicker of anguish behind his eyes for the way he spoke to me, for the way he made me feel. "I'll be back later," he sighs, walking out of the room without a single sorry.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself in hopes to keep my voice from breaking. "Laura said you made some poor choices today at work. Please don't do the same tonight," I nearly beg him, following him towards the foyer.

"Laura needs to keep her mouth shut," he snaps back, gripping the handle of the door.

"I love you, Chris," I say quietly as he pulls the door open, once more slamming it shut behind him. The veil over my eyes breaks, tears spilling forth as I watch our wedding photo slip off the wall, shattering against the hardwood floor.

Chris POV

Guilt is a funny thing. One minute your heart has all the anger pointed in the right direction, and the next you're pouring it out opposite of where it should go.

I'm not angry with Opal, and yet that's exactly the direction I go for every time I'm around her. I know that she had nothing to do with losing our son, and yet my frustrations are weighed heavily towards her.

I don't ever mean to purposely behave the way that I have been, and yet even in the moment I can't stop it from happening. I need an outlet, or this is going to get worse. That's why I've been pushing myself further at work, and as of today, that was apparently the wrong choice as well.

I finish my first drink, order up my second when I feel a gruff hand pop my shoulder. "How'd the wife take the news?" Cooper asks, sliding onto the stool next to me.

  "Haven't told her," I answer as I take a swig. My fingers automatically begin to peel at the label.

  "I figured as much."

My eyes cut over to my friend, "what's that suppose to mean?"

 I watch as he takes a deep, cautious inhale of air before he's turning to face me. I match him, readying myself for whatever bull is about to come from his lips. "You're not the same," he begins. "This," he waves his hand over at my second beer of the night, "Isn't you. This isn't the guy who bent over backwards to win the girl of his dreams. This isn't the guy who put hundreds of miles on his car just to have a few moments with the love of his life. You're not the guy I aspire to be anymore."

  My eyes narrow at him, while the back of my mind is in massive agreeance with the accusations. "I lost my son, Coop," I remind him through gritted teeth. "That's not something you bounce back from easily."

  "I'm not telling you to get over it, man. Even I'm not that stupid. But I know that when you're not at the precinct, you're here. When are you with your wife? Have you even tried to talk to her since the funeral?"

  "I talk to Opal every day."

  "To her, or at her, Evans? Because there's a difference." I arch my brow at him. "You've never spoken at Ope, only to her. Some how I get the feeling that's taken a different course as well. Tell me I'm wrong and I'll back off."

  I can't answer him so I go back to my drink. "That's what I thought," he mutters, ordering his own. "So, tonight, I'm gonna sit here and keep an eye on you. After today I don't trust you to not do something stupid."

  "I couldn't protect him," I stutter out as I feel a tear slip from the corner of my eye.

*Unedited

*Are we seeing a shift?