17. Chapter 17
"JUST GO to bed, Jo. I don’t even know why you came here instead of going to Brooke’s.”
I sit in a chair facing the entryway, waiting for him to walk through the door.
“Because he’s coming home, Jordan, and I want to be here when he does,” I explain.
“Why? So you can kick his teeth out before you never see him again?”
I look over my shoulder and see him standing at the bottom of the stairs with Brooke standing silently behind him.
“No. I need to be here when he realizes what an idiot he’s been. I need to be here to remind him who he really is.”
His nostrils flare and he shakes his head. “Well I’m going to pack my shit and be out of here by tomorrow night. You should too, Bunny.”
I shake my head without a word, and turn back to watching the empty hallway. The clock on the wall is impossibly loud, but at least it drowns out the pathetic sound of my barely beating heart.
I thought I was going to die right there on the floor of that bar tonight when I watched Joaquín self-destruct. He was giving me the cold shoulder and I could just tell something was wrong. It took a few more beers to see that he was pushing me away the only way he knew how. The only way he thought he could get me to leave.
It made my stomach churn when that woman strutted up to him and raked her fingers along his shoulder. I felt the pain of a knife piercing my heart when his arm came to wrap around her waist. The longer the two of them flirted, the angrier Brooke got. She went over to him a couple of times and threw some choice words out. She eventually called Jordan to come pick us up once he was done at the arena.
I told her this wasn’t him and that he was only trying to prove to me that he’s not worthy of love. But I knew better. I know Joaquín better than he knows himself, and I could tell that he wasn’t buying the act he was playing.
He confirmed my hunch when he told me I deserved better before he walked out of that bar with her. I don’t know what he’s doing with her or when he’ll be home, but I just know I need to be here when he finally realizes his error. Whether we make it through this or not, he needs to see that I didn’t abandon him like he expects me to.
I check the time on my phone and the digits flip to one twenty-three. It’s been just under an hour since we parted at the bar. I yawn and grab the blanket that hangs on the back of the chair and wrap it around me. My eyes grow heavy and I must doze off because the sound of the alarm beeping wakes me up.
I sit up in the chair and wait to see his face. My heart is in my throat and the next moments will either make us or break us.
His steps are soft and when he sees me, he jerks to a stop. Wide eyes stare back at me and I look for signs of guilt. I search his body for claw marks or hickeys, but I find none.
My breaths are shallow and it feels like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff. One small gust of wind will either send me back to where I belong, landing safely on steady ground, or blow me right over the edge into a dark and hollow unknown.
His hands curl into tight fists and his chest rises and falls in rapid succession. After the long moment of silence, he looks deep into my eyes and shakes his head. I breathe a sigh of relief and rush to him.
He falls to his knees before I can reach him, his hands cradling his head, and skid to a stop and wrap my body around him.
“I’m sorry Jo. I didn’t–I didn’t do anything with her. I couldn’t,” he sobs.
“I know you didn’t. I could feel it in my heart.” I kiss his head and his arms band around me and squeeze so tight that it’s difficult to suck in air.
“I thought you deserved more than me. I’m no good and you should be with the best. But when she tried to kiss me…Jo, I felt sick. I was disgusted with myself and couldn’t stand to have someone touch me that wasn’t you.”
His body shakes as he cries and I begin to do the same. In all the years we’ve known each other, I have never once seen Joaquín Santos cry. This is how I know him to be truly sorry. I trust him and maybe some people might say I’m naive, but I know him like the beat of my own heart.
“I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t do a thing. I got into that Uber and the second she moved in to kiss me, I pushed her away and jumped out of the car. I practically broke my damn leg, but that’s how fast I knew I had to get away.”
I comb my finger through his dark hair. “So what have you been doing all this time?”
He looks up at me and admits, “Walking home. Trying to figure out how long I’m going to sit on my knees, begging for forgiveness. And also preparing myself for the massive beating Jordan is going to rain down on me.”
“You don’t have to kneel and beg for my forgiveness. No sorry’s, remember. Promise me you’ll never let this happen again and we’ll pretend like it never did.” I kiss his face, just now realizing how cold he is.
His cheeks are like frozen blocks of ice and I feel his cold body soaking up my heat. His body trembles and I rub my hands all over him.
“How about we get you warmed up?” I ask.
“You said you forgive me, but you didn’t say anything about Jordan not beating me to a pulp.”
I scrunch my face and tell him, “That’s because I can’t guarantee it won’t happen. I’ll just pray that it’s over quickly and without too much damage to your beautiful face.”
I get a small, crooked smile out of him and I’ll take that for now. I rise to my feet and hold my hand out to him. He slides his into mine and kisses the back of it before standing. He laces his fingers with mines and squeezes them so tight that they turn white.
I lead him into the warm shower and he lets me take care of him…the way he deserves.
The sun rises and Joaquín still sleeps. I, on the other hand, didn’t get one hour of sleep. I felt like I needed to be on watch in case Jordan came barging in. Like a guard protecting something precious and valuable.
The door creaks open and Brooke’s head pops in. Her jaw drops and her eyes look like big blue balloons. I bring my finger to my mouth, hushing her, and slide out from under Joaquín’s tight hold. I tiptoe out of the room and carefully close the door.
“What’s going on?” She whisper shouts. “Shh. Come with me.”
We walk into the kitchen where Jordan stands, pulling random mugs from the cabinet and placing them in an empty box.
“Put those away, Jordan. You’re not going anywhere and neither am I.”
His head pops up like a jack-in-the-box. “Why not?”
I take a seat on a barstool and pull my legs up. “Because we’re staying here, with each other and with Joaquín.”
“I’m not staying here with that asshole. I want to be gone by the time he comes home.”
“Hate to break it to ya, but he’s already home,” Brooke tells him.
“Excuse me?” In front of my very own eyes, he rises to what seems like twice his size.
“He came home shortly after you stomped off to bed.” Jordan looks at me with fire in his eyes. “Nothing happened. And I believe him.”
Jordan shakes his head and slams his hands on the counter. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re gonna fall for his please believe me bullshit?”
“I’m not falling for it, I truly believe him. The only reason he even acted like that is because all he heard was that voice that he wasn’t good enough for someone like me. That he’d never be good enough. And that voice that rang out loud and clear was yours. If anyone should be asking for an apology, it should be you asking him for being such a shitty friend. Why do you think the worst of him Jordan?"
"I've been around him the last two years while you've been gone. I've seen the things he has done and what he's capable of. He is not the one for you. Just look at what happened last night. It'll happen again, Jolie."
My blood burns hot and it takes everything in me not to scream this house down. "Then I guess by your very definition, I should warn Brooke right? You were by his side, benefitting from his status. How many women did you two 'share'? If you can change, so can Joaquìn." His shoulders sag and I see the fight start to leave him. “I’m going back to bed. Please think about how well you really know Joaquìn and if you think he’s capable of doing something like that to not only me, but you. You’re his best friend, Jo. Think long and hard about whether or not he’s your best friend.”
"Wait Jo. Please talk to me some more. I need to understand—"
"There's nothing more to say, Jordan. When you're ready to apologize to me, it better come with an apology for Joaquín. You've hurt both of us. I don't know what is going on with you lately, but this isn't the brother I grew up with."
His eyes grow with shame and I watch the color of his face pale. "I'm sorry, Jo. I…I," he's at a loss of words and can only shrug.
I spin around and march back towards our bedroom and crawl into my cozy nook. I pray that my brother can see how wrong he is and be the Jo to our Jo and Jo like it used to be.