Chapter 18
Nora
That afternoon, after much convincing, I got Jordan out of the apartment. We spent most of the day staying out of each other’s way, speaking only when required for his care. He’s angry with me, and I can’t blame him. I’m angry with myself. But I can’t sit in this silent box a minute longer. The best way to start over, or at least attempt to get past this animosity, is to have a little fun. And I have the perfect idea.
“Ziplining?” Jordan asks as I pull into a parking spot at Great Escape Adventure Park.
It isn’t the best zipline near Richmond, but it’s the closest with an accessible line—safe fun for those with limitations. Maybe a little fresh air and adventure will squeeze the sour mood out of us both by day’s end.
I cut the engine and turn in my seat to face him. “We’re crossing skydiving off the list.”
“With ziplining fifty feet off the ground?” he says skeptically.
“This mimicked skydiving better than a hot air balloon ride, which was the other option. It’s just a slower, steadier pace while being securely fastened to a harness on a wire. No uncontrollable freefalls, no clouds, or fear of falling to your death. I thought you’d enjoy this more. But if you’re scared, I can call the hot air ba—”
“Who said I’m scared?” he quips.
“Your complaints and stalling tactics.”
“I’m not stalling. Just gathering information.”
“Okay.” I wave a hand in his direction. “What other questions do you have?”
“Aren’t there rules against riding with casts?”
“Not here. They have a line with a seat, or you can choose the wheelchair accessible contraption, if you prefer that. The accessible line is motorized. Instead of sliding down a wire with gravity, your speed is controlled by a motor or something. I didn’t exactly examine the engineering of the system. Just know it’s safe for riding with casts or wheelchairs.”
He glances out the window. “Ramps instead of stairs?”
“Yep. Are you done?”
“I was done a long time ago,” he says without looking my way.
Uninterested in contemplating any hidden meaning behind that loaded comment, I throw open the door and retrieve the wheelchair. Since the area schools haven’t let out yet, there are no lines or delays to wade through. After paying, signing our lives away in waiver forms, and sitting through the required safety briefing, we travel a short distance to the first platform. Finally, we’re allowed into our harnesses, the last step before the fun begins.
When presented with options, Jordan chooses to forego his wheelchair for a little added adventure.
“I can handle it,” he says to the female attendant, who quickly volunteered to help strap him in. “My body feels good today.”
To that, she mumbles, “I bet it does,” while reaching around his waist to buckle the first strap.
Good lord. Rolling my eyes to the older and far more disinterested male attendant, I watch him get to work on the clasps on my apparatus. He must be more experienced than the girl helping Jordan, since I’m suited up in all of thirty seconds. His assistant, however, can’t stop giggling and gawking long enough to do her job. She’s nauseatingly adorable—big green eyes, long silky hair the color of whiskey flowing down her back, toned legs, and smooth, unblemished skin—and staring up at Jordan like he makes the moon glow.
None of that bothers me. I get it. He’s an attractive man. Stunning if I’m shooting for accuracy. Heads are bound to turn. Women are sure to swoon. I get it. It’s the smile she’s invoked from him that has my lunch churning in my stomach. I haven’t seen his sweet brand of joy for two days and watching him give it so freely to someone else, rattles me more than I care to admit.
“Ready?” I ask to break up the flirting session. Both heads snap to me, all smiles gone.
“You go first,” he says, giving his attention to the small hands hovering over his abs. Only a few straps and his cotton shirt are separating her skin from his.
Is this what jealousy feels like? Rage bubbling like a geyser about to erupt at an innocent person, all because they notice something in a matter of seconds that you’ve disregarded for years? Because they can invoke your favorite smile with minimal effort?
With a huff, I stalk past and jump off the ledge, letting the harness take me away to the next platform. Hopefully, each layover on our way down the wooded hill won’t offer the same distraction. This is supposed to be fun for me and Jordan to help repair our relationship. Not fun for Jordan and every random model who works here.
Landing on the platform, I scold myself for acting like a jealous teenager and turn to wait for him to join me. After a few minutes, he appears through the trees in his modified Adventure Seat, the bright white cast on his left leg standing out among the evergreens and matching his toothy smile.
“He seems to be going faster than I did,” I say to the young male attendant behind me, sitting on a stool and watching TikTok videos on his phone.
“Mmm hmm,” he mumbles.
With a sigh, I train my eyes on Jordan. His pace slows slightly as he approaches the platform, but it doesn’t seem to be enough. I brace for impact.
“Nora!” he yells, a touch of concern leaching into his excitement.
“It will stop,” the attendant offers without lifting his eyes. He lifts a lazy hand to push a button on the control board I didn’t notice until now.
The wheels on Jordan’s apparatus screech to a soft halt several feet inside the platform.
“Watch out,” the attendant’s monotone voice says to me. As I back away, Jordan is transported along the ceiling rails to the exit on the other side.
I join him at the edge, grateful to see him smiling again.
“I can’t believe you found this place. It’s amazing.” He glances up at all the gears and parts, working seamlessly together, and follows the line out into the wooded area beyond. “There should be more adaptive activities like this.”
Wonder and serenity take over his face, and I hope the peaceful feeling holds for the rest of our outing. It’s quite the view, and I find myself lost in it.
Uncomfortable with the sudden skip in my heart’s rhythmic beating, I run both hands through my wind-swept hair.
“Would you like to go first?” I ask gently, and the side of his mouth tips up in a crooked grin.
“I’d love to.” His eyes lock on mine, the amusement I enjoyed in them moments ago, fading quickly. “See you on the other side.”
He gives the attendant the go-ahead, and as the trees envelop him, it occurs to me how much I want this do-over to work. I’m all in on Jordan Jones, friend or boyfriend. I’ll take either at this point to secure his presence in my life. But if he chooses the former, deciding my baggage is too heavy to carry, I’ll be the one nursing a broken heart soon.
The next three stops go smoothly. At each break, he smiles more and jokes not only with the park employees, but with me. Seeing him happy and carefree helps me feel the same.
“What’s your favorite color?” Jordan asks the attendant on the last jumping off point in our descent.
“Ugh, green.”
“Perfect. Why was the color green notoriously single?”
“He likes to tell dad jokes,” I explain, but it doesn’t make the young guy any more interested.
“Why?” he asks cautiously.
“It was always so jaded.”
I snicker behind my hand as the attendant stares at Jordan like he said something incomprehensible.
“Get it? Jade is a shade of green.”
“Kids these days,” I joke when he gives up and joins me at the edge of the platform.
“No sense of humor whatsoever.”
“None.” Looking up at him, his pinky brushes against mine and he doesn’t recoil. After our last two conversations, that one tiny development felt as significant as a kiss.
On the final platform, we return our harnesses and purchase hot cocoa on the way to rest our legs by the fire pit behind the lodge. The sun has dipped below the tree line, casting the sky in orange and pink strokes. This section of the park is somewhat deserted with the after-school action taking place in the trees. The privacy by the fire, the swaying trees, and sunset, it’s incredibly romantic and a new boldness fuels my next action.
I reach across to place a hand on Jordan’s forearm, resting on the chair, and he jolts. He’d closed his eyes to enjoy the quiet peace of our surroundings, and I give him no warning before touching him. “I had fun today.”
He studies my face for a bit before responding. “Me, too. It was nice getting out of the apartment. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Sliding my hand back to my hot mug, I take a sip and fold a leg under me to face him. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. I know all your sexual desires like the back of my hand, but very little about your other likes and dislikes, your childhood, your dreams.”
“Nora, I don’t know…” He sets his mug on the browning grass beside the chair.
“Come on. We said we were starting over. Pretend we’re just two new friends getting to know each other, or this is a first date.”
“Must be a new friendship since I don’t remember asking you out.”
I look him over, wondering if he’s about to stomp on the idea. Although his eyes stay trained on the fire, his lips tip up into a smirk.
“I believe today was my suggestion, and I drove and paid. Sounds like I subtly asked you out.”
“Fine,” he says, turning those gorgeous eyes on me. “But an end of date kiss isn’t allowed. We barely know each other, and I deserve to be wooed first.”
“Wooed?” I ask, laughing.
“Courted. Pursued. Wooed.”
“Whatever. I can woo with the best of them.”
His smile drops into a pensive frown like he wants to say something but opts not to ruin the mood. He’s taking me in, surely wondering if I mean it. Time to set the record straight.
“Jordan—”
His gaze turns to the fire. “I hate sushi.”
“What?” My spine straightens in disbelief. “We ate sushi like every other time we were together.”
“I know. It’s your favorite.” He cuts his eyes to me, grins, then goes back to watching the fire. The flames light his face and the lack of anger in his features. He’s not upset, but I feel all the guilt, anyway. It’s just another example of him compromising for my happiness.
“I had no idea.”
“How can you like raw fish so much? It’s disgusting.”
A chuckle burst out of me, shaking my body. I hold my mug over the grass when the hot liquid threatens to splash on my clothes.
“I don’t know. It tastes good to me. What’s your favorite food?”
“Hamburgers.”
“Typical.”
“Shut up,” he teases. “Your turn.”
“All right. My favorite color is purple.”
His eyes take a slow, exaggerated tumble. “I thought we were saying things no one knew.”
“I don’t know your favorite color.” More guilt rushes over me like a cold shower.
“Red.”
“Oh. Well, it is your color.”
“My color?” he asks, his brow rising.
Lifting the mug to my lips, I say, “You look hot in red,” before sipping.
“Hmm.” He smiles, satisfied with the compliment. And it’s all I need for the rest of the evening.
“Do you not have a joke for my color?”
“I have a joke for just about anything.”
“Well, let’s hear it.” I prop an elbow on the chair’s arm, resting my chin on a fist.
“I’d love to, but it’s your turn again.” He gives me a sorry-not-sorry shrug. “And I want something a little harder to know this time. Your favorite color was a copout.”
“All right. Geez.” I giggle, but the euphoria doesn’t last. He wants something deeper. Something he hadn’t already figured out on his own. There’s only one direction to go to satisfy that request and it’s back in time. Nothing is as deep and depressing as my childhood. “Did you know I also spent time in foster care?”
“No. When?”
“Early high school After the asshole—”
“Got it. No need to rehash that.”
“Thank you. My mother went to rehab for a bit, and I stayed with a couple on a farm. They were the quintessential wholesome duo. The wife cooked three meals from scratch each day—none of that box shit I was used to—and loved to bake. I think I gained ten pounds while I was there. The husband, along with a few part-time farmhands, took care of all the chores and the business side of things. They had cows, horses, chickens, goats, fields of various vegetables, the whole Old McDonald set up.”
He leans closer, giving me his full attention, and my swoon mimics the bubbly girl from earlier. Recovering, I get to the point. “Anyway, they always had music playing while she cooked or he worked. I could never escape it, and turns out, I like country music. Now, when I hear it, I think of the only people in my childhood who never hurt me.”
“I’ve never heard you play country music before,” he says softly, touched by the story.
“I don’t. Sometimes it’s unavoidable, but the nuances, the lyrics, and the memories are so…”
“Bittersweet?”
“Exactly. Even though I felt safe and cared for there, I knew it was only a matter of time before they tossed me back to the wolves. And I wasn’t very kind to them. I thought it was in my best interest not to get attached. After all, I was going to lose them, too.”
“Too? Who else did you lose?”
I stare at him, wondering if I should continue. This part of me has been locked away my entire adult life. But looking into Jordan’s thoughtful, sympathetic eyes, it’s easy to see that strategy was wrong on so many levels. The past has driven every aspect of my life despite my efforts to control it, hide it, ignore it. And it’s time to let it go.
“My father left when I was six, and I haven’t heard from him since. My first stepfather, Tom, left when I was nine. He treated me like his daughter, and I trusted him. Loved him. One day, he’d had enough of dealing with my mother’s shit and just left…like I meant nothing to him. The house had a revolving door of stepfathers after that, the next one more horrific than the last.”
Needing something to coat my dry throat, I take a few gulps of cocoa. It had cooled to the temperature of warm chocolate milk thanks to the chilly evening. “My boyfriend broke up with me after high school graduation. His family convinced him I would weigh him down, preventing his life goals from becoming reality.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Jordan says sharply, and I appreciate the conviction.
“Thank you, but looking back, they were right. He was there for me through it all, but as a steadfast family man, he needed someone who fit in with the rest of them. Give him the large family he eventually wanted. He’s best friends with his five siblings, and they’re all raising their children together.”
“Nora.”
“It’s fine.” I wave off his concern and get lost in the intoxicating waves of red and orange rising from the stone pit. I wish for it to soothe me. To change how I feel about the past—about myself. But I learned at an early age that wishes never come true. If you want something to happen, you make it happen. No invisible being or magical universe is going to give you anything.
The fire cracks, sending sparks into the air and awakening me from my thoughts. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. “So sorry for that mood dampener. Today was about having fun.”
“I had fun,” he says sweetly, holding my gaze. The flames light only part of his face, just enough to see the tender way he’s taking me in. Oh, how I’ve missed that look. “Did you?”
“Of course. So much that I don’t want it to end.”
He smiles, and my body temperature kicks up a few notches. “I have an idea.”
“What is it?”
He points to something behind me, and I twist to see it. A sign directing patrons to…I squint to read it through the haze of dusk.
“Ax throwing?” Turning back to him, his kind smile has evolved into smug assurance.
“Yep. We’re going to imagine the target is anyone who has ever hurt you. You’ll name each one and say goodbye, never again, or fuck you. Whatever makes you feel better.”
Not meaning to, my shoulders slump in a physical display of my first thought: It’s never that easy. But I straighten and intentionally adopt Jordan’s positive thinking. Besides, with him by my side, anything is possible.
In case the stars are aligning above us and something magical is happening in this moment, I toss up a wish. A simple one for sweet, tender-hearted Jordan Jones to forgive me.