19. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
"She's in there," a quiet voice says from outside my bedroom.
I've been holed up in my room for hours, refusing to leave my bed. My back is facing the door, and I hear footsteps enter behind me.
"Firefly," a soft familiar voice hums.
My spine stiffens and I roll over, eyes red and itchy as I spot Jordan and Blaise standing in the doorway.
"Jordan?" I crook out. "What are you doing here?"
He's not supposed to be back for a few more days, yet I can't help but wonder how he's appearing in my room.
Walking over, he kneels by the bed, grasping my hand. "Blaise contacted me and told me. I'm so sorry, baby."
My gaze looks over his shoulder at Blaise, bewildered. "You contacted Jordan?"
He nods firmly, giving me a small smile. "You need your people right now."
Turning back to Jordan, I frown. "But your work…"
"Don't worry about it," he says in a soothing tone. "I've got it covered. I want to be here with you and help you through this."
I try to give him a thankful smile, but it doesn't reach my eyes. I'm broken — utterly smashed to pieces.
"Here," he starts, standing up. "Let me lay down."
Climbing over me, he lays down behind me against the wall, wrapping his arms around my waist. I stare at Blaise who's still lingering in the doorway, his face blank as he watches us.
"I'll give you some privacy," he states, turning to head out.
"Wait," I mutter. "Please stay too."
He looks over his shoulder, puzzled. "Okay," he answers, despite his face obviously trying to figure me out. He leans down where Jordan was kneeling before, watching me closely.
"Can you lay with me too?" I ask, cringing as I immediately worry about what Jordan will think.
Whenever I used to get sad at school, my parents used to lay on either side of me, the three of us watching the stars. I can't see them at the moment, but I just want someone on either side of me, giving me the sense of stability so I don't tumble off the edge of the cliff.
"Here, I'll scoot over," Jordan says warmly, pulling me back with him. "Come on, Blaise."
Blaise looks a little surprised but stands up, laying down on my left. Immediately, I feel a small fraction of relief, having my two closest people with me. It doesn't fill the hole, not even a little bit, but for a brief second, it does give me hope that I'll get through this. People get through death everyday, though I'm not sure that's the correct way to put it.
I imagine death is a concept, a life changing experience that while we move forward, we never let go. Maybe each day will be better, and one day, I'll be able to stop crying and go back to normal life — even if normal life will be different.
I don't know. I wish I had answers. All I know is that I feel like I might suffocate from this feeling, the consuming grief.
"Whatever you need, we're here," Jordan muses, stroking my hair.
"Exactly, we're here," Blaise reiterates, adding onto Jordan's sentiments.
"Thanks," I whisper. "Can you guys just stay with me for a little bit?"
My mom calls me the next day with the funeral arrangements. Apparently, they have decided to have Uncle Logie cremated and will hold a 'celebration of life' get together soon. Given his birthday is in three months, they decided to wait until then, so we can do a dual celebration.
She assures me everything will be okay and to be strong, so I decide to take her advice and send Jordan on his way back to work. He's been nice enough to stay with me, but I know he needs to be in other places, and I can't stay in my room forever. So, despite every fiber in my body screaming at me, I get back to work myself. The distraction will be good, and I know my workaholic uncle would be proud. Nothing ever slowed him down, and I needed to be no different.
Blaise was hesitant to let me do work, but I reassured him I was fine and that I needed to focus on things I can be proud of. So, in true Skylar and Blaise fashion, we had tequila shots while working — not enough to get super drunk, but enough to take the edge off while I shared stories and memories of my uncle.
It turns out Blaise had lost his dad a few years ago, and seeing his strength, it helped. Apparently it's normal to want to shut down, but he told me that in time, it would get easier.
At least I had something to look forward to. This weekend coming was my trip to the beach with Jordan. I held onto that, clinging to the amazing time I know I'll have.
Like last week, Jordan and I were both quiet. He checked in, making sure I was still coping and when I assured him I was, he continued working happily. I expected more, thinking he'd be a little over the top with his messaging, but I think he knows space is good for me.
Truthfully, I wish we were speaking more. Even though I need space and to focus on work, he brings peace to me, calming my soul. I know he's under the pump with work, trying to get everything sorted so that we can go away this weekend, but still. I miss him — I miss just holding him, talking about random things for hours on end.
Blaise loads me up with work, keeping me distracted, and when I find myself starting to smile and laugh at things again, I feel guilty. But then I realize I'm human, and eventually I'll laugh at a joke, or smile at a photo again. It doesn't erase the memories or the grief, but I will be okay, and I know Uncle Logie would want me to be happy.
He'd be so mad over all the tears I've spilled. And I imagine him scolding me for wasting them on him.
By Thursday night, I'm starting to feel a bit more like myself — also thanks to some shots of tequila — so I facetime Jordan. The phone rings, the loading screen buzzing as I wait for him to appear on my screen. When he doesn't, I frown. We had been texting a little before dinner, but now he was quiet. I hoped everything was okay.
Sending him a quick message, I wait to hear from him, but a few hours pass and I still haven't heard back. Deciding not to ponder on it, I stalk out of my room to annoy Blaise, finding him in his bedroom.
"Hey, you. What are you up to?" I ask, lingering in his doorway.
He swings around on his computer chair, giving me a smile. "I'm just watching Mayday. You've got me stuck on these stupid aviation disasters now."
Laughing, I walk over and sit on his bed. "It's distracting though. But also, I may never travel on a plane ever again. My brain knows too much now."
He snorts. "There's more car crashes every day. I think you'll be fine. But man, I'm hooked. How are you doing?"
"I'm okay," I say softly. "I haven't heard from Jordan and I'm a bit worried. But it's been a huge week for him."
Blaise nods. "It's been a huge week for all of us. You'll see him tomorrow anyway. Are you excited about your trip?"
"Yeah," I smile. "I think I need it right now. It's the only thing keeping me going."
"It will do you a world of good," Blaise agrees.
Looking at his laptop, my eyebrows furrow in confusion. "I have a question. How did you manage to get hold of Jordan the other day? I didn't think you had his cell phone number."
Blaise grins at me. "I don't. But I'm an IT legend."
"Oh?"
"I stalked his Facebook," he says bluntly, revealing his amazing technology skills. "You mentioned his last name so I did a search, and since I knew he lived around here and what he looks like, I was able to find him straight away."
"I didn't even think to check Facebook. I should add him," I laugh. "I'm obviously the world's best girlfriend."
Blaise shrugs. "Facebook relationships are so 2010. But, yeah. He responded straight away and I filled him in."
Tapping my foot, I look at his laptop again. "I kind of want to have a stalk now too."
"Why do you need to stalk?" Blaise laughs. "You're dating him."
"I don't know," I flush with embarrassment. "Crazy posts about ex-girlfriends or just seeing what he posts about. I barely use my socials anymore. I'm just curious."
"Okay," Blaise mutters, holding back laughter. "I'll pull it up. But you could just add him, you weirdo."
I roll my eyes, standing up and walking over to him. I peer over his shoulder, waiting as the page loads.
I'm surprised to find that a lot of his posts are public, his profile picture a nice snap of him on vacation. Blaise scrolls down slowly, reading out posts.
"Boys' nights, family events, work stuff… I'm not seeing any crazy ex-girlfriends."
"Everyone has a crazy ex," I grumble. "At least there's no posts about it."
Blaise rolls his eyes. "Or crazy ex-boyfriends."
I snort, nodding in agreement. "That's true."
He keeps scrolling, pausing at a large group photo from a boys' night a few months ago. I immediately spot a familiar face, pointing to the screen. "Ah, there's Kaden."
"Who's Kaden?" Blaise asks, squinting at the figure.
I stiffen, going silent. He looks back at me, pulling a look of bewilderment at the pained expression on my face. "What?"
"Nothing," I quickly mutter. "He's just a friend of Jordan's that I met. Nice guy."
"Right…" Blaise answers, not convinced.
He goes to scroll on but something else catches my attention. I grab his shoulder, leaning forward. "Wait!"
"What?" he asks.
I narrow my eyes, looking in the background of the photo. It's dark — the large group of guys clearly in the basement of someone's house. Someone is visible in the background, only part of their face captured by the camera, but I'd recognize those eyes and hair anyway.
Black, unruly hair, blue eyes and a heavy metal hoodie.
I stare at the screen, trying to decide if I'm seeing it right.
"What is it?" Blaise asks again, looking at me.
Pointing, my finger touches the screen gently over the figure, my breath caught as I try to find the words.
"That person…"
"Yeah?" he leans forward, trying to get a better look.
I swallow. There's no denying it. I know it in my gut.
"That's Jake."