Chapter 3
Nora
Ineed to talk to you,” my boss says as I rush by. Emily Vane is the co-owner of the Veterans and Exercise Therapy Services Center I manage. The concern in her eyes has me curious, but it also activates my fight or flight reflex. Flight it is. Plus, I have a good excuse.
“Would you mind if I find you after class? Since I’ve been out, it took longer to get caught up at the front desk, and now I’m running late to teach the Chair Yoga class.”
Emily checks her watch and sighs. “Okay. It’s urgent but can wait a bit. I’ll be in my office.”
“Thanks.” I rush through the fitness equipment in the main workout area and into the Will Mason Multi-Purpose Room to find I have six class participants. Some are younger with leg or hip injuries. Others are older, nursing chronic pain or healing from recent surgeries. All were ordered to be there by their VETS physical therapist as part of their treatment. All are veterans, male, and based on their sulky postures and exaggerated scowls, think yoga is stupid. But I love a challenge, and this lot of broody heroes have no idea what’s in store for them.
I saunter to the speaker system in the opposite corner with a broad smile, making eye contact with each member. I have a mission to accomplish, and I’m going to deploy every tactical weapon I have at my disposal to do so. Mood lighting. Soft instrumental versions of popular rock and pop songs. And gorgeous female anatomy that deserves to be admired.
By the end of class, these defenders of freedom will have gained languid muscles, improved movement and strength, and a new appreciation for the benefits of yoga. They won’t be coming to class next week with those frowns. I’ll have eager students, excited about this part of their ongoing recovery.
Time to initiate contact and get working on the mission.
“Alrighty boys,” I say to the twelve skeptical eyes directed at me. “Let’s warm up those muscles.”
For the next twenty minutes, we breathe and stretch together—each one following instructions to the letter as though I’m their commanding officer. It’s one of the many things I love about working at VETS. Every member getting help here is either active military or a veteran. Every staff person and volunteer come here because they want to help and serve others. Respect and courtesy, duty and honor make up the core of the people, the organization, and the nonprofit’s mission. I’ve never seen a place overflow with selflessness and benevolence like VETS does. It’s breathtaking, and I’m instantly inspired the second I walk through the door.
Movement outside the classroom steals my attention, and as my eyes land on a familiar face, my brain jumbles. I can’t remember which exercise I am leading or what I’m supposed to say next. Emily’s giving a facility tour to a couple: my ex and a gorgeous, petite blonde woman pushing him in a wheelchair.
I can’t breathe. Why is Jordan here? What happened to him? Why didn’t I know he is a member here now? Is that his girlfriend? Shit. I want to look away, but I’m drawn to them, curiosity overtaking confusion. This visit must have been what Emily wanted to tell me this morning.
As he and his companion head toward the therapy wing, following Emily’s directions, she glances my way with an apologetic grin. She doesn’t know our full story, but she has enough details to know this surprise warranted a warning. After all, we hooked up at her and Jackson’s wedding and activated quite the gossip chain since many attendees knew we’d been broken up for months.
Regret consumes me for not knowing about his injury. In my defense, we haven’t kept in touch since the wedding ten months ago. But it’s not like he means nothing to me.
God. Why does my chest feel like it has an arrow in it? It’s pierced through skin, bone, and heart. I could have better prepared myself for the strike had I known he was coming in today. If it hadn’t been for my mother’s ridiculous drama, I would have.
Today is my first day back to work after taking a long weekend to talk my mother off yet another imaginary ledge. She was served her fourth set of divorce papers, which means her world is ending…again. That’s why I missed Jordan’s registration. Why I hadn’t had time this morning to review the new member list and get up to speed.
Now that I think about it, my best friend could have warned me well before now. Sydney should have known, not only because she’s VET’s accountant but because she’s close to Emily, Jackson, the front desk staff, and literally everyone in this damn place. Everyone knew this new member came with a warning label, and only Emily was brave enough to bring it up…albeit a little too late.
Did everyone’s phone break simultaneously where no one could send a simple text?
Literally Anyone:Warning! Ex-boyfriend and you will collide unexpectedly tomorrow. Your world will be rocked, and you won’t know which way is up. Have a nice day.
Yet, with or without the warnings I wish I’d received, I still should have known. It’s Jordan, for goodness’ sake. Something significant and potentially horrible occurred in his life, he’s in my city, and he seeks services from my employer. At that, my hand presses against my stomach as it twists with guilt.
To make matters worse, my sick brain is running through all the possible causes for his obvious injuries, military-related or otherwise, and his upcoming recovery. I wonder if he’ll be able to return to the career he loves. If the woman he’s with will take care of him, and if they’re close like we once were. And with that thought, I’m forced to remember the shambles I made of our relationship and how it’s reduced us to strangers. An ache I don’t recognize pushes through the chaos, bringing me back to—
Someone nearby coughs, and I glance toward the only noise in the room. The music stopped and only a few of my new yogis remain, quietly removing themselves from the awkward end of class.
Shit.
“You okay, Miss Nora?” asks one of the older gentlemen, a Navy veteran, as his dark blue and gold embroidered hat tells me.
“Yes, thank you. I just need a moment.”
“Not a problem since time is up. Great class today.” He winks and rolls himself out.
“Sydney.” I jump up to go search for my best friend slash keeper of heart-wrenching secrets, but stop in the doorway to check for equally gut-wrenching ex-boyfriends. With none in sight, I head for the administrative hallway and burst into Sydney’s office without knocking. “Sydney Norman, I can’t believe—”
The stunning blonde who had accompanied Jordan on the tour now sits in front of Sydney’s desk as if waiting for me. I take longer than necessary to shut the door, sensing this is a closed-door type of meeting. Plus, I still need the moment I didn’t take earlier to gather myself.
Shit. Shit.
“Hi, Nora,” the woman says flatly. “I thought it was time we talked.” She doesn’t stand to greet me, only eyes me with suspicion and a forced smile. Her face looks familiar, but I can’t place her. Thick, perfect curls framing her slender face; a deep dimple on her left; big blue eyes—Oh, god, it’s Josie. Not Jordan’s new girlfriend, but his protective, despises-me-with-every-fiber-of-her-perfect-little-body older sister.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, Josie,” I lie. At any other time in my and Jordan’s history, I believe I could have won her over as I do with my stubborn yoga students. She seems like a decent person from the things Jordan says, but no amount of shmoozing could make her like me after what I did to her brother.
“Have a seat, Nora,” Sydney urges. I narrow disapproving eyes at her sympathetic tone yet follow her directions, grateful she’s here to keep me from saying something I’ll regret. I can always count on her for a good kick in the shin whenever I’m being a jerk or have said something I shouldn’t. Unfortunately, her big, fancy-ass desk separates us and leaves me on an island. I’ll have to fend for myself or take my chances swimming for some distant, unknown shore when this conversation turns rocky.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” Josie begins. “Since Emily is busy with Jordan, I gave the details to Sydney to pass along to both of you. If I’m gone much longer, he’ll start asking questions.”
“What’s going on? Is he okay?”
She scoffs, surely not believing my concern is sincere. “He will be. Until then, I need you to do something.”
I glance at Sydney, and she gives me a tight-lipped grin, indicating my choices between right and wrong are limited. “What is it?”
Josie lets out a long breath. Asking me for help causes her a great deal of discomfort, and I don’t know how to interpret that. Her face scrunches like the words are bitter on her tongue. “I need you to pretend you and Jordan are still a couple.”
“What?” I shoot out of my chair. The arrow is back and has set my entire body aflame. “What the hell for?”
“Sydney can tell you why. I don’t have time to explain it again.”
She stands to face me squarely. She’s only an inch or two shorter than me, but she’s got a fierceness I wish I had in this moment. Mine seems to have melted into a useless confused pile of—
“Will you do it? For him?” she asks.
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
“She’ll do it,” Sydney says, and my eyes shoot daggers at her. She hadn’t moved from her seat, but with this betrayal, she might as well be standing beside Josie.
“Good. I’ll leave her in your hands.” Josie turns to me and points a slender, unpainted fingernail at me. “You better not do anything to make this worse.”
“Worse? How can it possibly get any worse?” I say as she storms across the room and lets the door shut in her wake. “What the hell, Sydney?”
“Sit down.”
“That’s the third time you’ve told me what to do since I walked through that door. I don’t want to sit. I want you to tell me what’s going on before I lose my shit right here.”
“Jordan was in an accident,” she begins, staring me down. She’s adored Jordan since we all met at the Marine Marathon and tells me all too often how I feel when I can’t admit it to myself. Sometimes I wish she didn’t know me so well. “It nearly killed him. Josie said his heart stopped several times.”
My weakened body lowers to the seat despite my stubborn pride. The thought of losing him, whether I want a relationship or not, is more than I can bear. He’s an amazing man. I’ve never thought or said otherwise, but having a future with him isn’t possible for many reasons. Not to mention my steadfast refusal to give my heart to a man of the military.
I saw first-hand what that did to Sydney. Her future bliss was all planned out with her Marine. After watching his absence rip her to pieces repeatedly and supporting her each time, I can’t subject myself to the same torture. I won’t.
“The last thing I want is for anything to happen to him,” I say, still shaking from hearing the news. “But what does this have to do with me? And why did Josie say I have to pretend nothing over the last year ever happened?”
“In addition to his physical injuries, he has post-concussion syndrome and lost part of his memory.”
“Which part?”
“The last year. He thinks you two are in the middle of the six months you were actually dating in your five-year on again off again relationship.”
“Well, that explains a lot.” I stalk to the large window and stare out at the mid-September morning, seeing none of its beauty. Fall is usually my favorite time of year, but under the weight of what Sydney and Josie expect me to do…
“Why can’t she tell him we’re not?”
“Doctors recommended letting him remember things on his own time frame to keep his stress low.” She crosses the room to sit on the window seat in front of me and takes my hand. Josie shouldn’t have left Sydney to bear the brunt of delivering this news alone. None of this involves her—other than being my punching bag or support system during this farce I want no part in.
“The trauma of knowing something happened and not remembering it,” she continues, “and all the resulting questions could impede his progress or cause more strain than his healing body can handle. Until he can remember…”
“We all have to pretend I didn’t break his heart?”
“Appears so.”
My gaze drops to her. “This is fucked up, Sydney.”
“It is. And it’s going to be hardest on you. Would you rather put him through the alternative?”
“Of course not.” My legs waver under me, and I sit beside her. With my head on her shoulder, she gathers me closer. “How long do they think it will take?”
“There’s no way of knowing. The brain is a curious beast.”
“Curious beast?” I glance at her with full-blown skepticism. “Have you switched your romance novels with nonfiction textbooks? That doesn’t sound like the romantic I know and love.”
“Since when do you acknowledge my romantic side?”
“You just didn’t sound like you.”
“What would have sounded like me?” Sydney asks, laughing.
“I don’t know. Something over-the-top hopeless, like in a Hallmark movie or like Emily.”
Sydney scoffs. “Nothing comes close to Emily’s romantic side. Even I look at her like she’s crazy sometimes.”
“Can’t blame her, though. Jackson is stupidly hot.”
Ignoring me because she’s happily engaged to her own beautiful veteran, and Jackson is her son’s godfather, Sydney circles back to Jordan. “So, you’ll do it?”
I sigh. “Doesn’t sound like I have a choice.”
“Not really.” She tugs me into a hug. One I didn’t realize I needed until I’m snug in her arms. “And you know why?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Because you still care for him.”
I start to pull away in protest, but she squeezes tighter.
“And I bet this little exercise makes you finally admit your feelings for him.”
“Alright, that’s enough.” Breaking free, I make my way to the door. Little does she know I’d long ago fallen for Jordan and look where that got me. “I said I would pretend to be his girlfriend. No one said anything about love.”
“You’re right. No one did…except you.”
◆◆◆
Alone in my office, avoiding reality, I’m unable to focus on anything except Jordan and our predicament. When he texted over the last few weeks, I assumed he’d been drunk at the time or sleepwalking or doing something that impeded his good judgment. Especially since the messages were sometimes incomprehensible or written in an odd shorthand.
It never crossed my mind that the texts might be sincere. That he truly thought his heart was still intact, and I hadn’t shattered it for a second time almost ten months ago. Which is exactly why I didn’t answer any of them.
In his current mindset, I can only imagine the hurt and fear that’s crept in while I’ve remained silent. Snatching up my cellphone, I reluctantly open the text app to reread his messages.
Jordan:wher r u
Jordan:ned to talk to u im n rchmd dnt no y
Jordan:herd u went home hope ur ok
Jordan:plz call me hard to txt
Jordan:gttn out soon
Jordan:hm n richmond 277 smithfld ave 103
Each awkward word he sent stabbed at my conscience. I wish I knew what happened to him. I was too stunned by Josie’s request to ask questions after she left. I’ll corner Sydney before she leaves, but right now, I know what I must do. My thumbs hover over my own tiny keyboard, not knowing how to begin.
Me:Hi. I’m sorry I missed your texts. Are you OK?
This is cowardly. I should call or go see him…or better yet, wait until I’ve wrapped my head around how to act like a girlfriend around him. My thumb reaches over the keyboard to hit the delete button and accidentally scrapes the Send button.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Three little dancing dots pop up, showing he’s typing, and my heart jumps into my throat.
Sh—
Jordan:its bout time where hav u ben i miss u im ok only puked thre tims toda
Me:Is that good?
Why is this so hard? Oh, right. Because it’s an absurd plan and only a matter of time before he remembers. A secret hidden in the shadows of his mind and poised to make itself known with the power of a grenade. The devastation could be the same, or worse, the third time around.
Jordan:trying to typ bettr
Me:You’re doing great.
Tears pool and blur my vision. What the hell? I can’t remember the last time I cried. Maybe in elementary school when my parents told me they were divorcing? Whenever it was, it’s not something I do. I’ve never been prone to showing that kind of emotion, but what we’re doing to Jordan is wrong. My heart cracks just thinking about it, and that truth grenade hasn’t even exploded yet.
Jordan:when can I see u?
Something in my stomach flutters as I stare at the question. I don’t know if I can keep up this charade in person. It’s one thing to text lies, it’s another to say them to his face. To see his reaction to me and the promises my presence makes when I have no intention of following through.
I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to hurt him again and myself in the process. I don’t want to touch him and feel his love, knowing how it will end.
But still I answer…
Me:Soon.
He doesn’t respond. I stare at the phone, envisioning him hunched over and unconscious in his wheelchair, and all I can think is I hope he’s not alone. I hope he’s safe.