Chapter 33 - Oak
Thirty Three- Oak
The wheels of my chair squeaked as I rolled myself toward the hospital entrance, my cane resting across my lap. My legs were starting to feel like they belonged to me again but were still weak, unsteady. But I was walking. Barely. And that was enough for me to be leaving.
Jordin was waiting for me outside, leaning against her car with her arms crossed.
The Florida sun illuminated her face, making her glow.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. She looked beautiful, effortless.
My chest tightened. I hated how much I still wanted her.
How much I still needed her. But did I even hate it?
No. I hated the fact that I had needed her, wanted her, and had fucked it all up and couldn’t have her. Now I was stuck working my way back in.
“You ready?” she asked, pushing off the car and opening the passenger door for me.
Before I could answer, the redhead nurse pushing my chair let out a dramatic sigh. “You better be ready. You’ve been terrorizing this whole hospital long enough.”
I smirked. “You’ll miss me.” And I knew she would. She enjoyed the baths and showers she helped me take more than I did.
Jordin got this look on her face that let me know she wasn’t amused with the nurse. I held back a smirk. I liked that she was jealous.
“Goodbye, Nurse Williams,” I dismissed her, keeping my tone even but detached enough to let Jordin know I wasn’t interested.
Gripping the armrests of my chair to hoist myself up, my legs trembled, but I managed to shuffle into the seat without collapsing.
Jordin folded my wheelchair and stashed it in the trunk.
It bothered me that she had to do this. I hated how much she had to see me like this—broken, dependent, weak.
I loved my wife too much to want to lean on her.
I was supposed to be the one she leaned on.
The drive started quietly. “I’m so proud of you, Oak,” she said after a while. “The doctors didn’t think you’d be well enough to leave for at least six months, and you’re leaving in three. Are you sure you won’t tell me what motivated you?”
I chuckled and shook my head, staring out the window. “Nah, it’s nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing. The memory of that video Ciarán had shown me flashed in my mind—Jordin, in that white dress, his dick covered in her. My blood ran hot just thinking about it. Ciarán’s voice echoed in my head, taunting me.
“See how much of this dick I’m pushing in your wife’s pussy? Don’t you want to fuck her like this one day again? I know you miss how she damn near sings when she cums. The way she moans, ‘ready,’ and begs you to make her cum.”
There weren’t words to explain how much I missed it. I could feel my dick growing on my leg as I clenched my fists, despite the fact that my body was shaking with rage all over again.
I didn’t know if Ciarán had shown it to me to piss me off or to push me, but it had worked. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it. Every time I tried to sleep, I heard her moans. It was torture, but it was also fuel.
It almost got Ciarán killed. I had enough money to make him disappear, but I knew that would hurt Jordin, and I didn’t want to do that. But I probably would have if I thought she wouldn’t suspect me.
I cut my eyes in her direction. She was looking straight ahead, a slight smile on her face, her fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel to the rhythm of some song only she could hear.
Did she love him? Did she love him more than me?
I wanted to ask her but wouldn’t. The words stuck in my throat.
Halfway to Miami, I saw the sign for one of her favorite hotels. One of those boutique-type places where she liked to go on her self-care trips. A plan started forming in my head. It was sneaky and desperate, but I didn’t care. My heart raced as I leaned back in my seat, letting out a low groan.
“I don’t think I’m going to make it all the way to Miami without resting,” I said, wincing for effect, my hand rubbing the small of my back.
“My back is killing me. I thought I could make it the entire way, but…” I trailed off, letting the sentence hang in the air like a fishing line waiting for a bite.
Jordin’s eyes flicked to me, concern etched across her face, her brows knitting together. “Do you need to stop?” she asked, her voice soft but urgent.
I nodded, trying to look as pitiful as possible, my shoulders slumping forward. “Yeah, that might help. Maybe for the rest of the night, and then we can start fresh tomorrow?”
She didn’t hesitate, pulling off at the next exit. As we pulled into the hotel’s driveway, Jordin’s eyes widened, and she turned to me, a smile coming to her face. “You remember the last time we were here?” she asked, her voice tinged with nostalgia.
I chuckled, snapping my fingers as if it had just come to me. “Oh yeah, that’s right! How could I forget?”
Once we were in the room, I ordered couple’s massages and a bottle of wine while Jordin was in the bathroom.
Jordin raised an eyebrow at me but didn’t argue when she came out and found the bottle on ice.
We sat on the balcony, the warm breeze carrying the scent of salt and flowers, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like we were us again.
We talked and laughed over dinner, the champagne loosening both of us up. She reached across the table to touch my hand, and I didn’t pull away. Her fingers were warm, familiar, and it took everything in me not to grab her and never let go.
“Why are you doing this for me?” I asked finally, my voice low. “What’s going to happen to us? What’s with our marriage? Are we getting divorced?”
She hesitated, her eyes searching mine. “After your accident… I realized I didn’t want to lose you. So I’m okay with just seeing where things go.”
It wasn’t the answer I wanted, but it was enough.
I leaned back in my chair, pretending to be casual. “I can deal with that. For now. But what about Ciarán?”
Her expression tightened, just for a second. “He’s going to be here. For now.”
I didn’t push. I couldn’t. Not yet. I had to keep reminding myself that I fucked up so I wouldn’t revert back to my old ways and get too heavy-handed.
We sat on the balcony while the massage therapist set up the room.
The room was thick with the scent of lavender and eucalyptus when we returned.
Low, soft music was playing from invisible speakers.
There were two women masseuses because I didn’t want a man rubbing all over Jordin—I already had to deal with one.
As she worked over my back, kneading into the sore muscles that hadn’t been stretched right in months, I barely felt it. My mind was somewhere else.
Jordin was lying next to me, her face turned toward mine, her skin glowing in the dim candlelight. She looked relaxed, her lips slightly parted, her breathing even. But I knew her. She wasn’t relaxed. Her mind was probably running a mile a minute just like mine.
I turned my head slightly, watching her, my fingers twitching against the sheet.
“You know,” I started, my voice rough, thick with something I couldn’t name, “right before that car hit me, I wasn’t thinking about the shit I thought mattered—car, money, success.”
Jordin’s eyes fluttered open, her brows pulling together slightly.
“I was thinking about you,” I admitted, staring at her, willing her to understand. “I was thinking about the first time I ever saw you. How I didn’t understand why you got under my skin so much.”
She swallowed.
“You weren’t like the other girls in school.
You didn’t give a fuck about impressing people.
You didn’t throw yourself at me. You walked like you knew exactly who you were, like you didn’t need anybody to tell you what you were worth.
” I let out a low breath. “That shit fucked me up. I wasn’t used to that.
I was used to girls who made it easy. Girls who looked at me like I was something special. ”
I exhaled, my jaw tightening. “But you? You looked at me like I was just like everybody else. Like I wasn’t shit.” A dry laugh left my lips.
Jordin’s lips parted slightly, her eyes softening, but she didn’t say anything.
“I bullied you for it… You were too much for me back then—too sure of yourself, too fucking beautiful, too much of everything I didn’t know how to handle.”
I sighed. “I’ve done a lot of fucked-up things in my life, Jordin.
But the way I fucked us up? That’s the one regret that haunts me the most. And it almost followed me into death.
And right before that car hit me,” I whispered, my chest tightening, “I thought about what I’d lost, about what our kids would look like.
If they’d have my eyes and your smile. If they’d have your fire or my stubborn ass.
I thought about what it would be like to have a second chance to fix this. ”
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.
I reached for her, my fingers grazing her cheek, tilting her chin slightly. My heart hammered in my chest.
“I know I don’t deserve it, but I hope you’ll give me another chance to spend the rest of my life making up for it.”
She didn’t move away.
I was going to kiss her.
I leaned in slowly. She didn’t stop me. Her breath hitched, her lips parting just a little, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like she was mine again.
But then, just as my lips were about to brush hers, she pulled back, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
“I can’t,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
Then she got up and left, locking herself in the bathroom for an hour. I left her alone for the rest of the day. I hadn’t meant to make her cry.
I heard her talking to him later. I wondered what it was about him that made her cling to him and how I could separate them. I figured I’d figure out how when I moved into her place. It would be me and her for the most part.
Later, as we got ready for bed, I acted like my back was still bothering me. “Can you rub it for me?” I asked, lying down on one of the beds.
She hesitated but climbed onto the bed behind me, her hands warm and steady against my skin. I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of her touch. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.
I turned slowly, careful not to wake her, and wrapped my arms around her. She fit against me like she always had, like she was made to be there. I grinned into the darkness, my mind formulating other plans.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I reached for it without thinking. Ciarán’s name flashed on the screen. I answered before the second ring.
“My wife is asleep,” I said, my voice low so I didn’t wake Jordin. Then I hung up and turned the phone off, tossing it back on the nightstand.
Jordin stirred but didn’t wake. I tightened my arms around her, my grin widening.
This was just the beginning of the war I was going to wage against her singer.