Chapter 24
Jordan
Wrapping a throw blanket around my shoulders, I tuck one leg under me when I sit down in the corner of Quinn’s overstuffed couch.
The plate of nachos I just made sits on the coffee table, and I lean over to grab them, pulling them onto my lap.
My attention doesn’t turn back to the movie I’m in the middle of—Dirty Dancing—but to my phone on the arm of the couch.
Liam’s face stares at me, and I shove a mess of three chips into my mouth, as though they’ll protect me from the smile beaming at me.
Savanna, the witch, sent over a few photos from the wedding, and she made sure to include ones featuring Liam and me.
So I’m doing what any normal sane woman would do and torturing myself with them.
My current obsession is one of us dancing.
The moment when the whole world around us had disappeared into oblivion, and it was only the two of us in the room.
The photographer took it from behind me, capturing the look in Liam’s eyes, and it’s unmistakable.
The love there can’t be faked. It makes my broken heart ache for him.
Love that feels so far away, so unattainable, so lost. And yet it’s there.
So close I feel like I could reach out and touch it.
If only…
The door to the apartment opens, and Quinn’s voice rings out. “Honey, I’m home!”
I smile through the second mouthful of chips I just shoved in my mouth, blinking back the film of tears in my eyes. “Mhmmhhmmm!”
“Oh Jesus, again?” Quinn asks with a level of exasperation that has me turning my head to where she’s appeared in the kitchen. Her front door is down an entryway but opens up to a kitchen and living room open concept. “Seriously, Jor? Dirty Dancing again? Nachos? Again?”
Swallowing my mouthful, I shrug, casting my eyes down at my plate as I subtly lock my phone to make the picture disappear. “It’s my comfort food. And yes, Dirty Dancing. Leave my choices alone.”
Some girls like ice cream. I prefer to inject myself with as much salt as possible to remain as bloated as possible.
It’s been a week since I showed up distraught at Quinn’s door.
She took one look at me and asked if everything had blown up in my face.
When I nodded, she pulled me in for a hug and said I could stay for as long as I needed.
Between my work schedule, and hers, we haven’t seen a ton of each other, but she’s seen enough that she knows I’m coping with nachos and movies.
Ones where the hero fights for the heroine.
She’s caught me watching this particular movie more than once.
Coming out from behind the counter where she’s put down a few bags, she stands with her hands on her hips and gives me a once over.
I squirm under her scrutiny, pulling a chip from the pile of stringy cheesy goodness to push into my mouth.
Whatever is going on in Quinn’s brain, I don’t want to know.
That look says it’ll be nothing I want a part in.
“You have tomorrow off, right?”
I chew slowly, nodding my head in confirmation. I worked four twelves in a row, so I had yesterday, today, and tomorrow off.
“Perfect. We’re going out.”
My eyes widen. Quickly I shake my head and mumble-yell around my mouth of food, “No! What? No!”
“Yes. Have you even showered today? Or yesterday?” She eyes me up and down again, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow.
Her emerald-green eyes—courtesy of contacts—shine bright and skeptical at me.
“I don’t understand heartbreak, but I do understand when a friend needs an intervention.
And you, my friend, need an intervention. ”
I swallow down the nachos. “I’m fine. I don’t want to go out.”
Quinn sits down on the arm of the couch. Leaning towards me, she makes a production of taking a huge whiff of the air and wrinkles her nose. “Nope. You smell like stale chips, desperation, and anguish. You know the cure for that?”
“I’m okay not being cured.”
“A shower, a blow dry, and then a bar. A bar where we can drink and dance. Find a couple of cute guys to buy us drinks all night. One of them I can hopefully bring home with me.” She reaches out and takes a chip from my plate. “Sorry in advance for the noise.”
“Quinn, seriously, I don’t want to go out.”
“Oh, sweetie. I’m not giving you a choice.” She takes a bite out of the chip and nods her head appreciatively. “If you don’t do it on your own, I’ll call in the big guns. Sav and Hailey will show up in the blink of an eye, and you’ll have three of us coming at you. That what you want?”
I glare at her hard enough I know there’s a crease between my eyebrows. Going out sounds like a lot of work that will take more energy than I have, but having to deal with all three of them sounds worse.
It’s not that I don’t love them all. I do. But I’ve been avoiding everyone except Quinn the past week. Knowing Hailey, she would try and talk logic into me. And Savanna… well, she’s sleeping with the enemy. Quinn is love-averse. She was supposed to be the safe choice.
“Oh c’mon.” She pushes against my shoulder before jumping up and heading back into the kitchen to put away whatever she brought in. “I’ve let you mope around for a week.”
“I’ve been working,” I remind her.
“And were you bright eyed and bushy-tailed at work? Or were you like this?”
A heavy sigh that carries the weight of the world expels from me. I set the plate of nachos on the couch and drop my head back to close my eyes. We both know the answer to that without me saying it out loud.
She’s not wrong. I’ve been moping all week.
I’ve thought of nothing but Liam. I’ve gone between anger and guilt, hate and love, bouncing back and forth depending on the second.
My heart, body, and soul feel tattered and bruised.
I’ve cried a million tears and suffered headaches all week from dehydration.
It was bad enough that one of my coworkers hooked me up to an IV my third shift just to give me a boost.
I haven’t heard from him. Not a peep. There hasn’t been a phone call, a text, an email, or a carrier pigeon. He’s not doing well according to Quinn. She wouldn’t tell me much more than that, which I understand. They’re friends, and she wants to keep his confidence.
“That’s what I thought.” The fridge door closes, and Quinn’s smug face appears around the counter again. “Get up, we’re going out. I’ll find you something to wear.”
There’s a knock at the door before she has a chance to disappear into her bedroom.
My heart skips a beat, and my stomach swirls with nervous anticipation.
I know what that is. It’s hope. Hope that on the other side of the door the one person who can take all of this away is standing there, ready to fight for me.
That’s the hardest part. Knowing he wouldn’t fight for me.
Even though I know he wanted to. I’m sure of it.
Liam felt the same way I did, even if he hadn’t admitted it to himself.
It was written all over the way he touched me, held me, kissed me.
It was in his eyes as he gazed at me during dinner, or when he’d smile at me while we watched a movie.
But despite knowing this, despite how I feel about him, I’m not going to be with someone who won’t fight for me. All I can do is hope he figures it out before it’s too late.
“I’ll find you something to wear right after I answer that,” Quinn corrects, disappearing.
I close my eyes and hold my breath, hoping it will help me hear whoever is at the door. Quinn doesn’t make me wonder long.
“Oh, hi boss man,” she says loudly. I’d wager a guess she turned her head into the apartment to say it for my benefit and not his.
The other man I’m not speaking with.
Quinn reappears with my brother right behind her, shooting me a thin lipped smile. “I’ll give you guys some privacy and eavesdrop from my room.”
Rolling my eyes, I sigh and contemplate picking up my nachos to stuff my face again so I don’t need to talk to Nate. He’s tried to make contact more than once this week, but I’ve ignored him.
Neither of us says a word until Quinn’s door clicks shut. There’s not much I have to say to my brother anyway. He’s the one who showed up here, so I wait him out, refusing to look at him.
Doesn’t mean I don’t see him in my periphery take a seat on the edge of Quinn’s oversized cozy chair to the left of the couch. Or put his elbows on his knees and lean towards me. Or feel eyes that match mine staring hard in my direction.
“You haven’t answered my calls or texts,” he finally says, and I don’t appreciate the accusation in his tone.
Rolling my eyes in his direction, I finally give him the time of day and meet his stare. “I wonder why. Don’t look at me and act like I’m the only one that did anything wrong here, Nate.”
His chest heaves with a heavy sigh. The same one he uses on me whenever he’s feeling defeated. “Jor, that’s why I’ve called and texted you. It’s why I’m here right now.”
It takes a little wind out of my sails. I should have guessed that, and I suppose I did know, but I’m still angry with him.
Lifting my head, I wrap my blanket around my shoulders tighter, like it can offer some sort of protection until I’m certain that whatever Nate has to say won’t hurt me.
I’m tired of feeling hurt. I’m tired of being upset.
I’m tired of feeling battered and bruised.
“I owe you an apology. I never should have reacted the way I did,” he says, shifting backwards a few inches in the chair. “Seeing my best friend all over my little sister wasn’t exactly what I expected.”
My stomach twists. I’m thankful he didn’t show up five minutes later than he did. God only knows what he would have seen.
“You were never, ever meant to see that, Nate.”