Chapter 32
PAIGE
The heart rate monitor beeps at steady intervals, slicing into the room’s deafening silence. Jordan sits in a chair, holding his mom’s hand as she lies limply in the ER bed, a thick white band of gauze circling her head. Dan stands on the other side of the bed with his arms folded across his chest, and I watch them from my chair against the wall. I take to an old habit, biting my nails as we all wait anxiously for the doctor to return with news.
After receiving Dan’s initial text, Jordan called him back immediately. Dan explained that Mrs. Miller had tripped over a lamp cord while trying to make space in her living room for a blanket project she was working on. When she tripped, she slammed head-first into her living room wall and cut open her forehead. She’d called Jordan to see if he could take her to the hospital and then Dan, but by the time Dan had arrived at her house, she had bled out quite a bit. Jordan and I were on the road before Dan got off the phone. We arrived at the hospital three tension-filled hours later.
A hollowness shadows Jordan’s eyes as he watches his mother’s sleeping form. I can almost feel the weight of the blame he’s putting on his shoulders. I move to Jordan’s side and place my hand on his back, letting him know I’m here for him in whatever small way I can be. But his posture is rigid and guarded, just like it has been since we left Aspen.
When the doctor finally arrives, Jordan shifts in his seat. It’s barely a movement, but it’s enough to tell me that he’s still present.
“Good morning,” the doctor says.
I look at my watch. It’s just after four in the morning. Seeing the time seems to make me tune in to my body—suddenly I’m all too aware of my lethargic muscles and sagging eyelids. It seems like an entire week has passed since Jordan and I were in Aspen enjoying the concert when, in reality, it’s just been one very long night.
The doctor looks at Jordan. “The good news is that your mom’s scans have all come back normal.”
A breath of relief escapes my lungs.
“And the bad news?” Jordan asks, his voice hoarse from disuse.
“We’d like to keep her at the hospital for a few more hours,” the doctor says. “There’s nothing to worry about, but given your mom’s medical history, we think it would be best to keep her under observation a little longer.”
Jordan and Dan thank the doctor before he slips out of the room, leaving us in the company of the beeping monitors.
Not long after, several nurses enter the room and transfer Mrs. Miller from the ER to another hospital wing. Jordan, Dan, and I follow. Between the movement and the many nurses prodding Mrs. Miller, she wakes up.
When Mrs. Miller sees Jordan, her face lifts in a weak smile. By the look of her drowsy eyes and the sound of her slow speech, I can tell she’s still worn out from her injury and tired from the constant interruption to her sleep.
“Jordan, we should give your mom time to rest.” Dan motions us outside, and when I exit the room, Jordan reluctantly follows.
“Why don’t you two go get some sleep, and I’ll text you with any updates,” Dan offers.
Jordan shakes his head. “No, I’m staying here.” He looks at Dan. “I should have… I thought you were with her tonight.” Jordan’s voice is not accusatory—rather, he sounds like he’s trying to piece together how things went so wrong in the space of a few hours.
“I was supposed to be.” Dan’s voice is deep and calm. “But my daughter in Pueblo needed help moving a few things into her new apartment at the last minute, so I went to help her.”
“I shouldn’t have left. I should have been there for Mom,” Jordan mutters to himself.
“Do you blame me for not being there for her?” Dan asks.
Jordan’s eyebrows arch up, Dan’s question seeming to take him by surprise. “No,” he says.
“If you don’t blame me for not being with her when I was supposed to be, then why are you blaming yourself?” Dan’s eyes pin Jordan in place. He puts a hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Jordan, accidents happen, and unfortunately, it’s not possible for us to be there every time something goes wrong. But the important thing is that your mom is all right. And she knows you love her whether you’re next to her or not.”
Jordan nods, but from the distant look in his eyes, I can tell he’s hardly processed Dan’s words.
I like Dan, and I agree with him. But something tells me that nothing Dan or I say will ever remove the weight from Jordan’s shoulders. What Jordan really needs is something no one in this hallway can give.
The phone in Dan’s hand starts to buzz. “Sorry,” Dan says when he sees who’s calling. “It’s my daughter, probably checking to see if your mom’s all right.” He waves to us before answering his phone and walking in the opposite direction.
Once Dan leaves, I realize we’re standing in a busy hallway as nurses and patients bustle around us. It only takes me a moment to spot an empty waiting room with several vending machines and a few tables with chairs. “Why don’t we go somewhere a little quieter?”
Jordan nods, and I lace my fingers through his limp ones, and we walk to the glass-paneled room at the intersection of two hallways.
I take a seat at one of the three round tables in the room as Jordan paces back and forth in the small space. The muscles in his jaw are tight as he avoids my gaze entirely. Eventually, he stops in front of an old vending machine before slamming his palm against the hard plastic, tearing through the silence we’ve created.
“Jordan.” I hop out of my chair.
“Sorry.” Jordan runs his hands through his hair, turning toward me while still avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You didn’t.” I step closer to Jordan, but when I do, he steps away, putting more distance between us.
I stop. My brows furrow. “Jordan?”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys. “Take my car and go home, Paige.”
I step toward him, wincing when, once again, he steps away from me. “I want to stay here with you.”
Jordan stares at the ground and shakes his head back and forth, his face a stone mask. “No, Paige. I’m sorry, but… we can’t do this anymore.”
My stomach instantly sours, and I have to fight the bile rising inside me. “Jordan. Don’t push me away.” I try to sound firm, but the words that tumble out sound weak and broken.
“Paige.” His voice is soft, betraying the coldness in his features, and for the first time since we entered the room, his eyes meet mine. “I can’t leave her. But I’m not going to hold you back anymore. You need to go. Accept the job, Paige.”
I shake my head, refusing to let his words sink in.
“I need to stay here. And you need to go,” he says as if that is all the explanation I will ever need.
“Jordan, stop. I won’t go. I’ll stay here.”
“No.” His voice is firm. “No, you won’t stay.” He looks away from me, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “We have to end this. I can’t date you, Paige. I can’t… We just can’t win.”
My heart seems to stop beating altogether. Just outside the room, I see nurses wheeling patients across the floor and people sitting at desks answering phone calls, but inside this room, the world has stopped moving.
Seconds tick by in slow motion as Jordan places his keys on the table next to me. “I’ll stop by later today and get the car. Just put the keys under the seat.” He ducks his head and walks past me toward the door. But I reach out for his arm, stopping his exit.
I know I look desperate, but I don’t care. “Jordan. I love you. Please don’t do this.” Tears flow from my eyes, dripping down my cheeks and splattering onto the tiled floor.
Jordan’s face flashes with pain. He briefly closes his eyes, refusing to look at me. I wait, hoping that, at any moment, his armor will crack, that he’ll tell me to stay, that we can make it through this together, that he loves me.
“Just go home, Paige.”
His words sting like a knife between the ribs. Just a few hours ago, everything was bliss. We were in each other’s arms. He was going to come to California. And now, now our relationship is crashing and burning, and all I have is a hefty dose of whiplash and a breaking heart. I feel breathless and weak as I let the truth sink into me, the truth I’ve known for a while but couldn’t admit to myself—Jordan’s wrapped his guilt around him so tightly, he’s turned it into a shield.
No matter what I do, he’s not going to let me through.
I let my hand drop from his arm, instantly feeling the chill on my fingers where his body heat used to be.
Even when he’s pushing me away, I know I can be enough for him. I know we would be good together. But I can’t force him to forgive himself.
And whether I want to or not, I have to accept that.
I walk on shaky legs, brushing the unending tears from my cheeks and grab Jordan’s keys from the table.
Jordan steps aside, waiting for me to exit the room, but I don’t. Not yet. Because Jordan needs to hear something first.
I step in front of him, forcing him to look at me. When he does, his eyes are glassy. It takes all I have not to wrap my arms around the man I love and ease the self-loathing I see in his eyes, but I hold my ground, forcing my voice to come out steady. “Please just do one thing for me. Tell your mom how you feel.”
The muscles in Jordan’s neck go taut. “She doesn’t need that.”
“Maybe not, but you do.”
I rise onto my tiptoes and kiss his cheek, my tears falling onto his shirt. He’s rigid as a board, a soldier standing behind his impenetrable shield. “Goodbye, Jordan.”