Finding Jordie: Things aren't always what they seem. (The Love Lies Bleeding Series Book 1) (5 page)

“Seriously? Strawberry? I thought you said you enjoyed a
good
Pop Tart.” He eyed me suspiciously.

“Shut up—it’s the sprinkles. They make me happy.” I quickly looked back down at the pan, trying not to stare at his amazing blue eyes.

“Do you know what these are made of?” He sounded appalled, as if I were eating a cockroach instead of an artificial pastry.

“No, please enlighten me.” I noticed my cheeks hurt because I had been smiling for the past five minutes.

“All right, sassy pants, I will.” He was attempting to be serious but began to laugh while he poured water into the coffee maker.

“C’mon educate me, I need a good schooling, and have you ever made coffee before?” I playfully grabbed the coffee from his hands, swiftly dumped four scoops into the top of the machine, closed the lid, and pressed the start button.

“Impressive.” He hopped onto the counter holding the box of Pop Tarts again, watching me. “It’s a sugar coma is what it is. I can’t explain it. I just know anything that has a shelf life of fourteen years and is still edible after a nuclear winter can’t be good for you.” He held his head high and tightened his lips as if he was triumphant in convincing me.

I stared blankly at him, trying my damnedest not to laugh, but the corners of my mouth betrayed me as they tightened. We both burst out in laughter.

“Really? That’s all you got?” I snatched the box from his hands and put it back on the counter. “Like I said, it’s all about the sprinkles, so if there is in fact a nuclear winter, at least I’ll be happy.” I tossed him a loaf of bread. “Can you make toast?”

“Can I make toast?” He hopped off the counter. “Of course I can make toast.”

When I turned to look at him he was standing at the toaster with a confused look on his face.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” My mouth popped open wide in shock and he laughed.

“Gotcha.” He winked, pushing down the lever.

Oh my, no no no. I won’t survive this night if he keeps shit like that up.

“I love cheese omelets. You can cook, woman. That was great, thanks.” He rested back in his chair.

“Thank you, it’s no biggie. I like to cook.” I shrugged. “And let’s not forget you make a mean toast, sir.” I picked up my plate.

He stood up and picked up his plate as well.

“I got it.” As I took the plate from him, his hand curled around mine. My heart stopped for a second. When it started back up it sent an electric pulse through my veins.
I can’t move. This is the greatest feeling ever.
I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to calm myself and savor the moment all at once. When I opened them, my nut job smile was waiting for me. After another moment or two I slowly pulled my hand back and turned to bring the plates into the kitchen with a hint of a smile on my lips.

He wandered into the living room. When I came out of the kitchen he was standing in front of the biggest picture hung on my living room wall.

Oh no. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I was smacking my forehead in my mind
.

“You’re married and have a kid?” He looked at me shocked and, I thought, pissed. He turned away from me, back to the picture.

I walked over to him and stared at the picture of Emma, Jason, and myself with him for what seemed like a lifetime but was really only a brief moment or two.

“I have a nine-year-old daughter.” My head dropped and I focused on the floor, trying to hide whatever screwed-up look was on my face. “I’m a widow.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It happens. It was a long time ago.” I stood there in silence while he walked slowly around the rest of the living room glancing at each picture.

“What branch was he?” he asked quietly.

“Army,” I said, equally quiet. “He was ambushed and killed in Iraq. It was a long time ago.” I realized I’d repeated myself.

“How long is a long time, Jordie?” His eyes burned right through me.

“Eight years ago.”

“A long time ago.” His eyes shifted back to the picture on the wall. “I...” He paused and his eyes were back on me.

I physically felt the heaviness of his stare.
What is he thinking?

“I should go.” He turned abruptly and walked over to the door.

What? Go? Now? Why? Why is he speaking to me as if I’m some wounded animal caught in a trap?
My eyes burned with the unwelcome sting that once was all too familiar. It felt foreign now.
Stop. Fight the tears. Do not let him leave, Jordan.

“All right,” I whispered.

“Thanks for breakfast, Jordie. It was... nice,” Nathan said cautiously, nodding his head.

“Any time.” My voice was barely audible.
Any time? More like never again.

He walked out the door. I don’t know if he looked my way before he left because I was staring at my feet. After I heard the door downstairs close, I crossed the room and locked the door, turned my back against it, and slid down to the floor. I pulled my knees to my chest and waited for what I could feel rising with a ripple in my stomach. Like a volcano about to erupt, the sting had turned to a burning in my eyes, and it was as if my chest had been ripped open. I was gasping for air. My iron-clad bubble had finally popped. I began to cry.

I wasn’t crying because he left—I don’t think so, anyway. Why? Why had every raw emotion I’d ever felt resurfaced as Nathan walked out my door? I never had this reaction after a fling. Which had been only three in eight years, I calculated quickly. Was it because he ran out the door like his ass was on fire? No. Then why? Guilt? No, it couldn’t be. I knew what guilt felt like, and I hadn’t done anything to feel guilty about. All he’d done was sit at my kitchen table and eat eggs, for fuck’s sake. No. It was because I realized I didn’t miss my dead husband as much as I missed the life I should’ve been living. I’d been so out of touch with everything. Emma and the bar,
that
was my life. I was so relieved my daughter wasn’t there to witness the nervous breakdown her mother was about to have as I started to sob uncontrollably.

I HEARD THE KEYS JINGLE
in the lock. I was face down on the floor. I hadn’t moved since Nathan left. How long had I been down here? I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move, I didn’t want to move. The door opened, knocking into my boots, which were still on my feet.

“Jordie?” Rachel shouted, as I moved my feet to unblock the door. “Jordie! Oh my fucking god! Are you hurt?”

I heard her drop her stuff before she knelt down to roll me over and examine me. She tapped my cheeks with her fingers and started screaming in a panic.

“Jesus Christ, Jordie! Look at me! Look at me, please!”

Shit, she sounds borderline hysterical.
I opened my eyes. They ached.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled before she went into a panic attack and called the National Guard. “I’m fine.” I sat up.

She stared at me for a moment. “I don’t know if I want to hug you or beat the snot out of you right now. What the fuck happened? I’ve been calling you since nine.”

“Since nine?”

“Yes. Nine, Jordie. It’s nearly twelve.”

Shit! Emma will be home in a few hours.

“When you didn’t answer either phone, I figured you might still be pissed at me from last night, so I decided to come here where your ass couldn’t avoid me. When I buzzed and buzzed and you didn’t answer...” She trailed off. “I thought something happened to you.”

“Something did happen to me.” I wiped my nose on my sleeve in the most unladylike manner. “Nathan was waiting for me on the steps last night.”

Rachel’s face turned bright red and she flipped her shit. “Did that fucker hurt you? I’ll kill the good-looking son of a bitch!”

“No, Rocky, calm down,” I snorted, beginning to feel like myself again.

“He came up, we had breakfast.”

She side-eyed me with her lips pursed and arms folded. A short laugh escaped my mouth at her reaction.

“Allow me to bend over and pick your mind up out of the gutter,” I said sarcastically.

“Go on.”

“After we ate, I was putting the dishes in the dishwasher, and he wandered into the living room. And then he left.” I gestured with my hands in the direction of the picture, and then buried my face in them. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I was probably dehydrated.

“So pretty boy went running for the hills because you have a dead husband and a kid?” She sneered the words in a ‘he should be ashamed of himself’ tone.

“I don’t know why he took off, but I’m sure that has something to do with it.”

“It could have been your cooking.” She laughed animatedly and slapped her leg.

I raised my middle finger and gave her a polite smile.

“Fuck him then. Seriously, Jordie, that’s petty and childish. Everyone has a past. Not like you have anything to be ashamed of. It’s his loss.” She screwed up her face as if she was standing next to someone with BO. “I’m sure the guy has a past himself. Fuck it.

“Fuck him. Who does he think he is? Making you cry... If I see his ass again he is getting a beat—”

I cut her off abruptly. “He didn’t make me cry.”

“Oh Jesus, here it comes. Defcon One defensive Jordan.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hands all around me. “Well, why the hell were you curled up like the fucking
Crying Game
on the floor, then? Obviously at it all night, might I add.”

“I don’t know.” I picked myself up off the floor and headed to the bathroom. “I gotta pee.”

Rachel followed me in and hopped onto the counter. “Well?” She could be one pushy little broad.

“It wasn’t him leaving that upset me... as much as...”

Her eyes widened and she smiled slyly at me. “I knew it! You filthy whore!” She raised her eyebrows and in a conspiratorial voice added, “He is a panty dropper, though.”

“Ahhhhhh, never mind.” I stomped out of the bathroom to the living room to grab my smokes.

She stood by the steps that led to my bedroom and motioned for me to hurry up. “Okay,
okay
, sorry, drama queen. Proceed.”

We climbed the stairs and walked through my bedroom. I tossed her a hoodie, then I opened the window and we climbed up the fire escape to the roof. We each plopped in a chair, side by side, and I lit up a smoke.

“You’re killing me, Smalls,” she said.

“It wasn’t him leaving that upset me as much as it made me realize how pathetic I am. He was the first guy I’ve had in my home.”

She opened her mouth.

“Shut it.” I held up my finger. “The first guy, and I mean romantically, since Jason died. The first in eight years, Rachel. Eight! It was a revelation. For the second time in one weekend I was hit in the face, hard. All the shit you said to me earlier was spot on, and I lost it.”

“So now what?” She leaned her head against my shoulder.

“So now, I thank the gorgeous bastard for knocking me out of my emotional coma and move past it. At least I know I’m capable of having feelings for someone else. I guess I was just too afraid to find out. I’m still afraid, but I passed Feelings 101—I still have a heart.” I smirked at her. “The Iron-Clad Bubble has popped.” I reached over to hug her. “Thanks, bitch.”