Chapter 30 Jordan #2
I can’t get words past the lump in my throat, so I nod.
My mother spins around, still laughing, her gaze sweeping the ballroom with the grace of a perfect hostess who’s cataloguing faces, weighing details, and orchestrating her world.
As soon as her eyes find mine, that social smile vanishes.
She steps away from the governor without an explanation.
My pulse hitches. Maybe she has changed. I’ve never seen her commit a mistake like that in public.
Her lips form my name.
I brace myself for the look that will say I’m not enough. The lethal comments disguised as compliments. The inventory of my failures written on her face before she even opens her mouth.
But her expression…breaks.
The mask splits right down the middle. As moisture glistens in her eyes, shock seizes my limbs. This is Eleanor Hearst, who has ice for a heart and Teflon-coated skin. A woman who’s never truly put her meticulous mascara to the test.
She closes the distance between us, stopping short a few feet away with her hands suspended in mid-air, as if afraid I’ll vanish if she touches me.
“Jordan?” She breathes out my name on a tentative exhale.
“Mom.” My reply is quiet. Uncertain. The rush of seeing her after so long sears me open.
Love, wild and blind, mixes with terror and leaves me wobbling. The old panic that I’ll never be enough, never fit her script, surges to the front of my mind like a tsunami.
I push down the fear. She can’t send me away, lock me up, or force me into a dress to play the part she wants anymore. I’m a grown woman. I rule my own destiny now.
I will only survive the night if I maintain control over everything I think, say, and feel.
Her hands close on my arms, like she’s anchoring herself to me. “You came back.” The words break on a sob, emotion unraveling the rigid calm she usually wears like armor. “My baby. You came home.”
The control I spent my adult life cultivating instantly crumbles.
A wave of love washes away nine years of anger and bitterness, nearly knocking me over.
This isn’t forgiveness. Not yet. Maybe never.
But for now, with her arms around me, the past fades like mist in the morning.
Mom.
Part of me has needed this, been starving for it, since the day I left. No, before that.
I lean into her, breathing in her perfume. Soft vanilla and musk. A scent that still feels like home.
With her arms encircling me, I’m ten again. Safe for just a second, before things got complicated and every hug became a lesson.
“I missed you.” Her silk-clad shoulder muffles my voice. “I missed you so much.”
She pulls back, cradles my face in her hands, and searches every inch of me like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she blinks. “I searched for you.” Barely more than a whisper.
Guilt drops like lead to the pit of my stomach. “I didn’t want to be found, Mom. I went by Jordan Bennett. I needed space…and time.”
“I’m so sorry you felt that way.” Her lip trembles. “Every time the phone rang, I… I kept your room just how you left it. Then about a year ago, I stumbled upon your podcast. I’ve watched every episode.”
That undoes me.
Tears burn my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. I never let myself picture her hoping, waiting, or listening to her wayward daughter’s podcast.
I always thought she’d moved on, glad to be rid of the messy kid who wouldn’t fit.
The same way she did with Dad.
“I’m sorry.” Though I don’t know if I mean for leaving or for coming back. Or for being the wrong shape in her high-society world.
She shakes her head. “You’re here now. That’s all I care about.”
Then she glances past me. Her eyes land on Kirill. The motherly warmth drains away, replaced by something sharper and more calculating. Just like I knew she would, she recognizes him for what he is.
She sees the violent predator beneath the suit, coiled and ready.
“Darling, are you all right?”
She can spot a shark at the door.
And just like that, our rehearsed plan falls apart.
No more distractions or social games. My two worlds crash together.
The desperate, dangerous one I’ve lived in since Kirill materialized in my apartment and the universe of chandeliers and secrets I fled.
The lines between them are blurred, but that’s okay.
Because this is the mom I knew as a child, before money and paranoia warped her mind. The one who would ask how I’m doing instead of explaining how I’m doing things wrong. A mother who would look me in the eyes rather than at my hair, nails, or attire. Who loved me more than anything else.
Forgotten, but maybe not lost.
I squeeze her hand and drop the act. “I’m okay, Mom. But I need to get to Dad’s safe. Now. Tonight. We’re in trouble.”
Fear flashes in her eyes before steel slides into place. She doesn’t hesitate. “This way.” Gripping my hand, she leads us through the crowd.
No questions. Just immediate protection.
Kirill shadows us, his every step certain as predatory alertness hums off him. He’s snapped straight from reluctant guest to the man with a mission.
We slip through a hidden door, leaving behind the glittery ballroom.
I glance back, once, at the universe I ran from, which seems so much smaller and less dangerous now.
Or maybe I just became bigger and grew sharper teeth.