Chapter 15 - Jordin
fifteen-Jordin
The mediator’s office was suffocating. Oak had requested this. He wanted to try to talk through our problems. I wanted to leave and avoid them. This was the kind of place that seemed deliberately designed to crush your spirit with its beige walls, dim lighting, and uncomfortable silence.
I adjusted my burgundy sweater dress. It hugged my curves and ended just above my knees. My hair was slicked back into a bun. For Oak, I needed to look put-together, unshaken—even though I felt like crumbling inside.
Oak sat across from me in one of the leather chairs that seemed too small for his broad frame. His crisp white shirt stretched across his chest, the top button undone. He wore dark jeans like he was trying to be casual, but the second our eyes met, I saw it—the storm brewing underneath.
His brother sat on one side of him, his lawyer on the other.
Marcus seemed annoyed. Knowing him, he’d want Oak to be even more of an asshole to me than he already was.
Marcus was bitter as hell, and his specialty was projecting his relationship failures onto anyone who would listen—and unfortunately for me, I’d been his favorite target since the day I married Oak.
The mediator’s voice droned on, her words blurring in my mind.
All I could focus on was Oak. His gaze was fixed on me like he was searching for a hole in my defense.
The anger, the longing, the regret—it was all visible in his eyes.
My stomach twisted, and a wave of sadness overtook me.
I didn’t want to feel for him. But I knew he was probably hurting just as much as I was.
“Excuse me,” he interrupted, cutting the mediator off. “Can I have a few minutes alone with my wife?”
The air in the room shifted instantly. His lawyer leaned in, whispering in his ear, and Marcus joined in, his expression filled with irritation. Neither of them seemed to approve, and they weren’t being subtle about it.
Meanwhile, I sat still, my hands folded in my lap, my face blank.
I hadn’t bothered to hire a lawyer. I didn’t want anything from Oak—not his money, not his apologies, not even his last name.
I just wanted out. Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice? I ain’t fucking with you no more.
I had forgiven him for his high school bullshit. My forgiveness ended with that.
The mediator adjusted her glasses, her tone patient. “Mr. Black, we can discuss anything you have to say during the mediation process—”
“I said I need a minute,” Oak barked, his voice rising, jaw tight with frustration. His fist slammed down on the table, rattling the water glasses. “Everybody out.”
Marcus muttered something under his breath, but he got up, glaring at me as if I were the one causing trouble. His lawyer hesitated, glancing at the mediator for guidance, but even she stood, gathering her things with a tight nod. One by one, they all left the room.
The second the door clicked shut, Oak was on me. He moved fast, making his way around the table. Before I could react, he was pulling me from my seat. His hands were on my waist, lifting me effortlessly onto the cold surface of the table that had separated us seconds earlier.
His body pressed between my legs. His lips found my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot just beneath my ear.
For a single, weak moment, I gave in. My breath hitched as my hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer. His scent washed over me, making my head spin. One of his hands slipped under my dress, gripping my thigh, his fingers digging in just enough to make me gasp.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you, baby,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down my spine.
For a moment, I let myself feel it—him. I had missed him too. Everything about him. Our connection, the familiarity, the chemistry that had always been there. But then, I remembered where we were—and why we were there.
My hands flattened against his chest, and I pushed, shoving him hard enough to create space between us. “No,” I said, my voice shaky.
“You don’t get to touch me like that anymore,” I snapped, sliding off the table and adjusting my dress. “Not after what you did.”
His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he demanded. “Who have you been with?”
I opened my mouth, but he cut me off.
“Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen the TikToks. You really thought I wouldn’t see what you’re doing? You’re all over social media, letting him lead you around like I’m not still your husband?”
I flinched.
“Are you fucking him?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Don’t play stupid, Jordin!” He slammed his hand down on the table, making me flinch again. “Ciarán. Is he the reason for you leaving? You’ve been with him, haven’t you?”
“Stop talking to me, Oak,” I mumbled, my head starting to pound.
His face twisted, something wild flashing in his eyes. “Why don’t you want to talk about him?” he spat. “Is he the reason you won’t forgive me?”
My voice dropped, cold and steady. “What I do is none of your business anymore.”
That pushed him over the edge. His face turned red, jaw tightening. He grabbed my chin. “None of my business? You’re my wife, Jordin!”
“Not for much longer,” I snapped back.
“You’re divorcing me to be with him? Is that it?” Spittle flew from his mouth.
I knocked his hand away from my face. “You’re fucking unbelievable,” I said, shaking my head. “You cheated on me, Oak. You broke us. Don’t you dare try to turn this around on me or bring Ci into the conversation. I was faithful.”
He nearly growled, pacing a few steps away, then back again like he couldn’t stay still.
His fists were clenched at his sides, the veins in his neck bulging.
“I don’t have to turn this around on you, Jordin.
You played your own part in breaking us.
I talked to you, begged you to cut back.
You agreed we would start a family before thirty.
You went back on that. You agreed you wouldn’t spend weeks away from home. You spent weeks away from home!”
“You think that justifies you sticking your dick in someone else?” I spat. “You think me chasing my dreams gives you a free pass to destroy everything we built? You think me staying in one place would’ve made you faithful?”
I felt tears prickle my eyes. I was on the verge of crying, and I really didn’t want to cry in front of him.
“It wasn’t about staying in one place, Jordin!
” He slammed his palm against the wall, his voice booming, the force of it echoing like a bomb going off.
“It was about being there for me. For us. You had one foot in our marriage and the other in your career, and I was the one left standing there, waiting for you to decide which mattered more. I made a mistake, but don’t you dare sit there and act like you weren’t pushing me away every damn day. ”
I stared at him, my chest heaving, anger and hurt swirling together in my gut.
“You don’t get to blame me for your lack of control, Oak.
If you were unhappy, you should’ve left.
Instead, you broke every promise we made, and now you want to pin it on me?
Fuck you. Sign the divorce papers, because I’m not doing this shit with you anymore. ”
We must’ve been loud, because a second later, the door opened. Marcus, his brother, stepped in, looking between us with a scowl.
“Enough,” Marcus said, his tone firm. “How does yelling at each other solve anything?”
“Fine. I can solve it by leaving.” I grabbed my purse and stormed out, my heels clicking loudly against the floor. Outside, I took a deep breath, trying to calm the shaking in my hands.
I didn’t even get another full breath in before he walked up. The air kind of shifted. I swear I felt his presence.
I saw his feet first. Then smelled his sweet, spicy cologne.
“Thought I left you in Miami,” I said, raising my head, my eyes locking with Ciarán’s. I immediately tried to fix my face. I didn’t want him seeing me upset over Oak’s ass.
He smirked. “You were too far away,” he said, his voice low. “I started to feel it. Had to get back in proximity of you.”
Before I could respond, the door burst open behind me. Oak stormed out, yelling my name.
“Jordin! Don’t you fucking walk away from me!”
Ciarán’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer to me, putting a protective arm around my waist.
I knew the minute Oak recognized who he was. I heard his feet pounding the pavement. Marcus grabbed him just in time.
“What in the fuck is he doing here?” Oak raged. “You fucking my wife?”
Ciarán chuckled. “Not yet. But something tells me it’s coming.”
I groaned.
Oak tried to break his brother’s grip. “Come here, motherfucker, say that shit to my face!”
“Oak, calm the fuck down,” Marcus barked, struggling to keep him in place. Oak thrashed, still shouting, his voice hoarse with rage.
Ciarán took a step forward, a dangerous smirk on his face. He was ready to fight. As if we hadn’t talked about him controlling his temper.
My hand slid across his chest, pressing flat against the warmth of his skin through his shirt. “Please,” I whispered, just for him. “Ignore him. Let’s just go.”
For a second, he didn’t move.
But then his gaze dropped to mine, like it always did—like I was the only thing that could touch him when he was like this.
He gave me a short nod, his fingers brushing the back of my hand.
Then, he looked at Oak—calm but coldly. “Next time, ex-husband,” he said, voice low, controlled, but filled with violence. “We’ll have this conversation next time.”
Still, he didn’t move.
So I laced my fingers with his and gave a gentle tug. “Ci…”
As we slid into the car, it was hard not to look back. Oak’s face was contorted and crimson as he fought against his brother’s hold.
“Jordin, don’t you dare! Get back here! WE ARE NOT DONE!”
His voice was raw. And I felt it in my chest; even though he hurt me, I felt bad for him.
“You think I’m going to let him have you? No. Never. You hear me? You’ll always be my wife!”
Marcus grunted, heaving him back as Oak’s hand shot out, pointing a trembling finger at our car.
“And you! You deadbeat singer motherfucker! I’ll see you in a ditch! You touch her, I’ll kill you! JORDIN!”
Ciarán rolled the window down as he started the engine, giving Oak a wave. “Jordin, say goodbye to your soon-to-be ex-husband,” he said with a grin, taunting Oak.
We pulled away, my heart racing. I turned to glare at him. “You’re an asshole for that, you know that, right?”
He shrugged, unbothered, throwing me a sideways glance. “For you? I’ll be that.” His voice was calm. “He shouldn’t have been yelling at you like that. He was hurt before—now he’s really hurting, and he deserves to be. Don’t tell me it didn’t make you feel good to see him all pissed off.”
“Shut up, Ci, and drive,” I said, but couldn’t help but laugh. It was better than crying.