Raining Down Rules (16 page)

“Lean back,” he whispers as he nibbles on my ear lobe. “I won’t let you fall.”

Too lost in what his fingers are doing outside my capris and too turned on to argue, I lean back against his arm and admire his strength and the flexing of his bicep. He moves his fingers from my capris and slowly unbuttons my see-through black blouse. He kisses softly just above the top of my tank top and then gently pulls one side off my shoulder, exposing my white strapless bra. Goose bumps flare on my skin as his fingers run down my shoulder to the top of my bra where his hand stops. He squeezes my breast gently, then runs his tongue along the outer edge of my bra before pulling the one side down altogether.

His lips move along my breast, stopping at my nipple, and he flicks his tongue expertly and quickly replaces his fingers back at the center of my core, rubbing and pushing and heating me up. A deep fire rages, burning hot and fast, and I don’t want to put it out. I rock my hips against the drag of his fingers, increasing my desire. He swirls his tongue and with a hungry suck, pulls back on my nipple, sending me over the edge completely. Vic presses his fingers hard against the center seam of my capris, all while I’m biting my lips, trying to keep from moaning out loud as I ride out my orgasm.

I fall against Vic’s chest, breathing hard, and then suddenly a bright scene lights up the entire theater and blood rushes to my cheeks.

“Holy crap,” I whisper-laugh and fix my clothing. “We could have been caught.”

“It was worth it,” Vic says with a smile, and then kisses me softly. I settle back against my seat and nuzzle under Vic’s arm. His heart is pounding against his chest, echoing mine, and I suddenly wish to be able to return the feelings he just gave to me. I wish to touch him in a way his body would react to me, to curve against him and feel his excitement.

My hand works its way up his thigh, gently caressing, inching closer to the obvious want bulging in his jeans. He sucks in a breath as my hand reaches its destination and he shifts in his chair. My fingers trace the outline of his desire and as he releases a shaky breath my phone vibrates in my purse, which is resting against my thigh. I glance at the number—it’s the same one from earlier and I excuse myself to answer it.

“Hello?” I whisper as I jog down the stairs, running my fingers through my hair, hoping I don’t look like I just had an orgasm in the back of a movie theater.
Oh my God, I just had my first orgasm!

“Jemma Bowers?” a man on the other end of the call asks. The unfamiliarity of his voice begins to douse the heat still lingering.

“Yes, this is she.”

“I’m afraid there’s been an incident, and you’re needed at Bennett-Morgan Memorial Hospital in Warner.”

I collapse against the door to the theater room and cover my mouth with my hand.

Chapter 33

I run back up the stairs to Vic with tears in my eyes and ask him to take me to the hospital. I explain on the way what the police officer told me over the phone and with clenched teeth Vic drives through the city to Bennett-Morgan Memorial. When we arrive at the hospital, I sign in at the desk and wait with Vic in the beige plastic chairs placed around the stale waiting area. My legs bounce nervously while we wait, and I try to tell myself that everything will be okay.

“You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to,” I say after we’ve waited for almost half an hour. Vic grabs my hand, kisses it softly, and smiles.

“Our date isn’t over yet,” he says. “Besides, I want to be here for you.”

“Thank you.”

Twenty minutes later, a middle-aged policeman with salt and pepper hair and a matching goatee walks through the door, stopping at the desk. The woman behind it points to me and then he quickly joins us, sitting in a plastic chair across from me. Vic squeezes my hand as the policeman introduces himself.

“Miss Bowers, I’m Officer Sherman. I apologize for having you wait so long, but we needed to make sure he was stable before we could come get you.”

“Thank you,” I say nervously. “Is he going to be all right?”

“He banged his head pretty good when he collapsed, but he’s pretty lucky. Overdoses at this level can be tricky, but thankfully it was called in fast enough he was able to get the help he needs to recover.”

“Why did you call me? I haven’t heard from Jordan in weeks.”

“You are listed as his first and only ICE contact.”

What? I am listed as his only in case of emergency contact? Why would he do that?

“Can I see him now?”

Officer Sherman nods, then stands, gesturing for me to follow him. Vic tightens his grip on my hand as we walk through the doors into the emergency room where walls of beds and screens and beeping machines overwhelm me. I don’t have to wonder where Jordan is as there is another policeman standing just outside his divided room. He’s frowning, or at least looks like he’s frowning, but when Officer Sherman arrives the other man’s frown disappears as he walks away.

“He’s sleeping at the moment, but stable. We’ll have to keep an officer here overnight to keep watch.”

“Is he in trouble?”

The officer clenches his jaw and then says, “Well, that depends. We’ll have a talk with him when he’s awake and find out for sure.”

“Okay,” I say. I step around the divider and gasp as I take in the sight of Jordan lying in the bed. He has an IV in his left arm, an oxygen mask covering his sunken face, and a large bandage over his right eyebrow. His closed eyes are purpled and puffy like massive bruises, and his skin is pasty and yellowed. Tears spring to my eyes as I drop Vic’s hand and stand beside Jordan.

“Can I touch him?”

Officer Sherman nods and excuses himself. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes or so.”

“Oh, Jordan, what have you done to yourself?” I ask quietly as I stare down at his prone body. “You are such an idiot and have almost ruined your life. You can’t do this to yourself.”

Vic clears his throat, reminding me he’s standing here with me.

“I’m going to go grab some coffee, would you like some?” he asks.

“Sure, thank you,” I say, and watch as he walks away.

I pull up a chair and sit beside Jordan’s bed, take his hand in mine, and let the tears fall. Sitting here with him lying in a hospital bed brings up flashes of my mother lying on a bed like this years ago. I was so young, but those few images are burned into my memories and sit there like a match waiting to ignite. I’m not sure how my life would have been different had my mother survived the car accident, but I hope in some ways I would be the same person.

“Hey.” Jordan’s fingers tighten around mine and his raw voice startles me back into reality. “You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

I drop his hand and stand, making the chair slide against the floor with a squeal and hit the divider. His eyes are bloodshot and they stare at me with longing. My mouth gapes open and I’m at a loss for words. The last time I saw Jordan, he kissed me so fiercely and then sent me on my way, leaving me with a broken heart and totally confused.

Chapter 34

Jordan

Jemma stands there with her mouth hanging open and I know she’s angry with me. I don’t blame her. The day I made her leave me in this shit-hole city, I did something reckless with her heart. I shouldn’t have kissed her, and I shouldn’t have made her believe I could change. But seeing her here now pulls at my chest, making it constrict with guilt and regret.

When she finally speaks, it’s like a smooth melody playing softly just for me.

“Why did you list me as your ICE contact?”

So that’s why she’s here. I should have known someone would call her. I’m glad they did because she is the only person I know who would come if I needed.

“Because I’m a jerk,” I admit. “I knew you’d be the only one who would come for me.”

Jemma’s eyes grow stormy and she folds her arms across her blotchy chest. Her see-through black blouse hangs loosely over a white tank top and the pink capris she’s wearing fit her perfectly, accentuating her gorgeous body.

“Yeah, Jordan, you are. That was a really dick move.”

“Listen, I—”

“I’m not finished.” She pauses for a breath. “Did you plan on overdosing? Were you trying to kill yourself?”

She’s wearing a pretty pink flush on her cheeks, and even with her smudged makeup, she looks beautiful. She’s also cut her hair since I saw her last, making her look a little older and accentuating her cheekbones.

“Answer me.” Her stormy eyes are pleading with me. But what answer can I give her other than I am a total screw up? All these years I thought I was proving my father wrong by becoming famous and being able to get whatever I wanted. But in the end, maybe he was right.

Taking a deep breath, I savor the fresh oxygen flowing through my nostrils. “Was I trying to kill myself? No. I just didn’t care what happened to me anymore.”

“I saw a picture of you. You were at this all-ages club with two girls. Jordan, what have you been doing with yourself? You look like you’re barely alive.”

“Jesus, Jemma, if I wanted a lecture I would have listed my father as my emergency contact.”

Her face goes slack and I close my eyes against the hurt I’ve caused again. When I open them, there is a guy standing in front of my bed holding two cups of coffee. He’s handing a cup to Jemma and then stepping close to her, almost protecting her.

“Who the hell is this?” I ask. The guy leans forward and reaches his hand out. We shake and he introduces himself.

“I’m Vic, Jemma’s, um…”

“Friend,” she says, cutting him off. “He drove me here.”

“Were you out on a date?” Why I’m feeling jealous is beyond me. Jemma isn’t mine, and can’t be mine no matter what I want. Her cheeks flush and I wave my hand in dismissal. That would explain why she looks so great. “Well, don’t let me keep you,” I say bitterly, and close my eyes.

“Jordan, don’t do this. Don’t shut me out.”

God, she’s beautiful.
Even with my eyes shut tight I see her shape and her gentleness.

“What can I do to help you? I can’t stand to see you like this.”

“Why don’t you and Vickie go on and finish your date. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

“It’s Vic,” the guy says, correcting me. He stands taller, if that’s even possible, and pulls Jemma close to his side, placing an arm around her waist protectively. “Listen, Jemma’s been a wreck for the last couple of hours, it wouldn’t hurt for you two to talk for a while.” He turns to Jemma and I want to punch him in the face. Though, judging by the size of his arms, he wouldn’t even feel it. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby, okay?” Jemma nods and Vic kisses her on the forehead quickly before leaving her side.

When the guy is gone, I turn to Jemma. She’s chewing on her lower lip and has one hand balled up into a fist below her chin.

“What are you going to do, Jordan?” she asks after a moment. Her eyes are filled with tears, though they don’t fall. They hang there like icicles, ready to slip at any moment.

“Do you love him?” I ask instead of answering her question, because God only knows what I am going to do. I didn’t plan on ending up here in this hospital. I just wanted to stop feeling for a while. Jemma’s eyes widen and her head pops up at my question.

“I…I don’t know,” she says meekly.

“Look, you either do or you don’t.”

“Jordan, it’s not that simple.”

“Sure it is. Do you love him?”

Just like that the tears fall, slipping down her flushed cheeks, and all I want to do is rip the IV from my arm and tear the oxygen mask from my face. I want to hold her in my arms and tell her I can’t live without her. I want to kiss her forever and promise to be better. I want to do this for her. I want to love her. God, I just
want
her.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I say, trying to offer her words of comfort. “Tell me about him. How long have you been dating him?”

Jemma’s shoulders relax as she sits in the plastic chair next to my bed. She sighs, wipes away her tears, and stares at the IV in my arm.

“He’s a fireman,” she says with a smile. That would account for the size of his arms, I guess. “And he is amazing. He’s building this house by a stream and he’s been doing it himself for three years.”

She continues telling me about this guy and I do my best to keep silent. Every word about him out of her mouth makes my anger boil to the surface. Why can’t she be saying these things about me?

“So this is your first date?” Shit. And she brings him here to see a washed-up rock star. “Not going so well, then?”

“It’s been really good,” she replies with yet another flush.

“Just how good has it been?”

“It’s not like that,” she argues. “We’ve met at the all-ages club a couple times and then today was our first real date. What have you been doing? I’m surprised you’re still here in Warner.”

I tell her about renting the shitty apartment and the parties, but leave out all the girls. God knows I don’t think she can handle that. Honestly, I don’t know if
I
can handle it. How many have there been since leaving her at the apothecary? Five? Seven?
More
than that? And then it hits me. No matter how much I want Jemma, how could she ever want someone like me? Someone who can’t count how many girls he’s had sex with; someone who itches to get high. I can’t even remember a sober day since leaving her. I’m a sack of shit, worthless as my father repeatedly told me as I grew up.

“Jemma, do you still have the rehab center information?”

She looks up at me, searching my face for something…hope, maybe? She slowly nods and then glances at the clock above my bed.

“It’s after ten and I’ve got a long drive home. I’ll come by tomorrow and give it to you. Is that okay?”

My chest constricts once again. Her eyes are filled with hope and the promise of something more, but I can see her faith in me wavering.

“Jordan, you have to do this for you,” she says as she stands. “It can’t be for me or anyone else but yourself. Sobriety is a choice—one
you
need to make. I can’t do anything more to help you other than give you access to the places and people who can actually help you. No more staying with Gran and me in the hopes of staying sober. We tried it once and it broke my heart. I can’t do that again.”

“Thank you, Jemma.” She leans over me and presses her lips to my forehead and then walks away. As much as I want to see her again, she is right; I have to do this by myself. I can’t let whatever these feelings are toward her distract me from what is important. I will do this on my own, proving to myself I am not a sack of shit. I can do more with my life than wash it away hiding from reality. Reality is here. It’s knocking at my door and I’m going to answer and invite him in.