8. Jordan
JORDAN
I wake up feeling deliciously sore and thoroughly loved. Huxley is curled around my back, one arm draped over my hip to keep me close. Our legs are woven together under the warm blankets, and I know in my heart I want to wake up this way every single morning of my life.
There’s only one thing standing in my way.
My phone dings with an incoming text and then another.
That must have been what woke me up in the first place.
Huxley is still sound asleep, barely stirring as I carefully untangle myself from his embrace.
I take one last look at him over my shoulder, committing to memory how peaceful he looks in the morning light.
I pad my way across the one-room cabin to where I set my purse down last night. My stomach drops when I take out my phone and look at the screen. I have several missed calls and a litany of text messages from my father, each one more unhinged than the last.
5:33 am - MISSED CALL
5:34 am: Where the hell are you?
5:36 am: I came home early because I was suspicious of you and that man.
5:38 am: I knew I was right. Is that who you’re with right now?
5:45 am - MISSED CALL
6:01 am: I raised you better than this. To think, my own daughter, a whore.
6:03 am: You wanted freedom so badly, and what do you do with it? Spread your legs for the first man who paid you any attention.
6:15 am: Your mother would be so disappointed in the woman you’ve become.
I stop reading his texts after that, too heartbroken and angry to even process what’s happening.
My whole life, my father told me everything he did was to protect me.
I couldn’t play soccer or softball or volleyball with any of the kids my age because it was too dangerous.
What few friends I had never stayed long because my father didn’t let me go to the mall or out to the movies, and a sleepover was completely out of the question.
All of this done under some false pretense of love.
As I read over his texts, I don’t see any hint of love or even concern. If his goal was my safety, I would think at least some of these texts would show his worry. But no, every hurtful word is aimed right at my heart, where he knows he can break me. Bringing my mother into this…
It’s the last straw. I should have woken up earlier to the fact that my father went from protective to a psychotic level of paranoia and control. I’m unsure when the scales started to tip, but now that his true colors have been revealed, I know I need to get out. For good.
Gathering up my clothes, I quietly slip into my outfit from last night, minus the panties and bra. They’re still damp, and besides, it gives me an excuse to grab one of Huxley’s plaid button-down shirts to wear as a cover-up.
I pause with my hand on the doorknob, looking back at the man who has changed my life forever.
I want to be the woman he sees in me, someone brave and able to face challenges head-on.
I’ll take care of my father, tell him I’m my own person and he has no power over me anymore, and come right back. Maybe Huxley will still be asleep.
With that thought in mind, I exit the cabin only to realize I have no way back down the mountain. It’s not an impossible hike, especially going down versus climbing up, but still. It would take at least two hours to walk back home.
I notice movement off to the right and see Huxley’s friend, Cassian, stepping out of his cabin across the small field. I’ve met him a few times before, though we haven’t had much of a conversation.
He notices me and crosses his arms over his chest, nodding his head in my direction. I look back at Huxley’s cabin, then over to Cassian, knowing what I need to do.
I make my way toward Cassian, my mind racing with what to say to the man when I get to him.
“Uh, hi,” I squeak. Great job. Super chill.
He nods at me. “You okay?” comes his grunted response. Cassian may be gruff and grumpy, but I know he’s a good man. His first question is about my safety. Unlike my father.
“Yeah, I… I need a ride back down the mountain,” I say all in a rush. When Cassian doesn’t react, I continue babbling. “I need to take care of a few things,” I start, not wanting to give away too much. I want to show Huxley I can take care of myself, and he won’t always have to come to my rescue.
Cassian stares down at me, his expression completely unreadable. I think he might refuse for a moment, but then he drops his arms from where they were folded across his chest and tips his head toward the truck Huxley drove us around in last night. I suppose it makes sense that they share vehicles.
I follow him to the truck in silence, not wanting to say anything to make him change his mind. When my fingers wrap around the passenger side door handle, I hear Cassian clear his throat.
“I’m not going to stop you from leaving,” he says, his voice raspy as if he doesn’t use it much.
“But you should know Huxley is one of the best men I’ve ever met.
He must think you're pretty special if he trusted you enough to bring you up here.” I nod, my eyes stinging with tears. “You sure you want to do this?”
“I know Huxley is incredible,” I whisper. “I’m not trying to hurt him. I just need to take–”
“Take care of a few things. Yeah, I got it.”
I know Cassian doesn’t believe me, and I don’t blame him. Anyone would think I’m trying to sneak out on Huxley after sharing an incredible night. But I can’t give any more away without risking Cassian coming along or calling Huxley for backup.
It’s a long, silent drive down the mountain. I watch the hills and valleys pass us down below, a thick layer of fog nestled in the treetops, giving the Smokies their name.
I think of a dozen ways to start the conversation with my dad, but none feel right.
I hope I’ll be inspired in the moment to make a grand statement and put him in his place.
Honestly, though, I’d settle for a civil discussion where I let him know there will be boundaries, and I’ll likely be moving out.
“Where to?” Cassian grunts as he pulls onto the gravel road leading to Rock Bottom.
“The hardware store is fine,” I say quickly, trying not to notice the way Cassian looks at me.
When we get to the parking lot, I unbuckle my seatbelt and slip out of the truck as fast as possible.
“Hey,” Cassian calls out. I turn to look at him. “You sure you’re okay?”
It warms my heart to know even this big, rough mountain of a man is concerned about me. “I will be,” I reply before giving him my back and running around to the back of the building. I hide there, catching my breath, until I hear Cassian pull out of the parking lot and down the road.
Taking a few deep breaths, I wring out my sweaty hands and straighten up, holding my head high. I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m an adult, and I’m choosing to live life on my terms.
By the time I reach the back door to our house, I’ve built up enough confidence to tell my father exactly what’s on my mind. I pull the door open, but before I can even take a step inside, my father reaches out and grabs my wrist, dragging me into the house roughly.
“What the fuck, Jordan?!” he screams at me, his face nearly purple with rage.
I’ve never seen him like this. His green eyes are dark, like a shadow of madness has crept into his mind, making everything about him crazed.
I press my back against the wall and try making myself as small as possible, unsure what else to do.
He’s never been violent with me before, never physically abusive.
But the man standing in front of me now? I don’t know what he’s capable of.
“Dad, I was out–”
“I know exactly what you were doing. Slut. ”
The word stings more than a slap to the face.
As if tempting fate, the next second, my father’s hand flashes in front of my face, and I hardly register what just happened. I hear the slap before I feel the pain, my mind reeling.
“You even had the nerve to show up in his clothes? Take that off right now,” he demands.
He doesn’t give me a chance to respond; he simply grabs me by the throat and peels me off the wall before tearing at the plaid shirt I’m wearing.
“You’re hurting me,” I cry out as he rips the fabric.
My father chuckles darkly, the sickening sound making my stomach twist into knots. “You’re hurting me ,” he spits out, fisting my hair and ripping my head back so I’m looking him in the eye. His pupils are blown out, and I wonder if maybe he’s on drugs. Is that what started the paranoia?
The next thing I know, my head is slammed against the wall, pain and a bright light ricocheting around my skull, making me dizzy.
I can hardly stand up, but I manage to stumble after my father, who has my arm in a vice grip.
He drags me through the house until he gets to my bedroom and tosses me onto the ground like a sack of flour.
I scramble backward, away from this monster I hardly recognize.
“I can’t even look at you right now. You disgust me,” he growls, his eyes looking me up and down like I’m a piece of trash.
“I’m going to leave you here until you realize what a fool you’ve made of yourself.
I haven’t decided how I’m going to punish you, but believe me when I say you won’t be leaving this house for a long damn time. ”
“But–”
My dad lunges at me, and I shrink back, scared of what he might do. Instead of touching me, he merely laughs, as if torturing me like this is a game. I guess to him, it is.
When the door slams shut, I hear him turn the lock on the outside with a click. He had that installed when I hit puberty “for my protection.” He also has a lock on my window that requires a key to open. Guess who has the only copy? Not me.
A wave of helplessness washes over me as I heave out a sob. How did I get here? How did this happen? I didn’t have a chance to get more than five words in, and now I’m bruised and bleeding, locked in my room with no way to contact Huxley.
What a mess. Maybe I’m not ready to be independent after all.
Please, please come for me, Huxley, I plead with the universe. I’ll never leave you again. Please. Please…