Table of Contents 19 страница

Lopez raised his eyebrows and exchanged a look with his colleague.

Jordan’s mom snorted in disgust and I turned on her, ready to slap that sanctimonious bitch into next week, police or no police.

“My son is a coward, Detective,” she said, her voice ringing with disgust. “That’s the simple truth.”

“Gloria!” shouted Paul.

I was on my feet, shaking with anger.

“Every time they knocked him down he stood right back up and faced them … every time … until he couldn’t stand up anymore. That’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen, other than facing your hatred every day.”

Silence settled around us, until Lopez cleared his throat and announced that he’d be in touch.

The officers stood up to leave.

“Wait!” I snapped. “What about the men who attacked Jordan? Have you found them? Jordan knew one of them—Ryan Dupont. Will you go after them, too? What happens to them?”

“We have one man in custody,” Lopez confirmed.

“Just one? There were four of them!”

Sanders gave me an even look. “Ryan Dupont turned himself in, but he refuses to name the others involved. We need to speak to your fiancé to see if he wants to press charges.”

My lips thinned until I was sure they were a white, bloodless slash across my face. I knew that would never happen. Jordan would never press charges. He’d said he was ‘paying a debt’ earlier. God, I hoped that debt was finally paid up in full because I didn’t know if I could take much more of this.

Outrage was still pulsing through me, and Gloria was sitting there, the whiff of sulfur foul in the air.

Lopez nodded again, handed me his card in case I ‘remembered anything else’. As if I could ever forget it: every blow, every kick was imprinted on my brain, burned behind my eyelids.

As soon as it was just the three of us, I turned to Gloria.

“Tell me again why you’re here?” I growled at her.

“Don’t speak to me! I don’t answer to you,” she sneered.

“Gloria, that’s enough!” barked Paul. “Either you’re here for our son or you’re not. I know that Torrey is.”

Gloria ground her teeth together.

“Are you takin’ her side now? The preacher’s trashy daughter, that’s what you called her.”

My eyes flicked to Paul, and his dull skin reddened, revealing the truth of her hateful words.

“I was mistaken,” he said. “I’m sorry, Torrey. Sorry about a lot of things. Look, we’re all tired. It’s been a bad, bad day. I think we should go home. Then in the mornin’, we can be back here for Jordan. He’s the important one right now.”

I thought Gloria was going to argue, but instead she picked up her purse and abruptly left the room.

Paul offered me a sheepish smile. I didn’t feel like returning it.

“You go,” I said. “I’m staying.”

He nodded slowly, but sank back into his seat to wait with me.

In silence, we watched the hands of the clock shuffle forward. We were joined by a woman who was weeping quietly, her eyes swollen with tears. I glanced at her tiredly, but didn’t have anything to say that could make it better for her. No one could. We could only wait.

Finally, as the night stretched toward a new day, Dr. Linden reappeared.

“Everything went as well as can be expected, given the level of swelling around the eye. But there’s a good chance that your son won’t require a further operation.”

“Can we see him?” I asked.

“He’s in recovery so I can only let you look through the window, but I’d really suggest that you go home and get some rest yourselves. Come back tomorrow.”

I wondered why he’d bother to say that.

We shook hands, and he wished us goodnight. He was probably going home to have dinner with his family. No, it was way too late for that. He’d probably take a snack from the fridge that his wife had left for him, shower, and slip between clean sheets, with a clean conscience and no bad dreams to trouble him. Maybe. We never really know the troubles that haunt the lives of others.

A nurse showed us to the recovery room, and I stood on tiptoe to look through the window.

Jordan’s face was turned away from us, so I couldn’t see much. He was hooked up to lots of machines, but he was breathing on his own.

My throat tightened, and I fought back the tears of relief that threatened to fall.

Paul touched my arm.

“We should go home now, get some sleep, like the doc said. Then we can be here for him later.”

I nodded, and let him lead me from the hospital.

At the parking lot, I finally spoke.

“Could you please drive me to the bank in town?”

Paul looked surprised.

“The bank? At this hour?”

“I want to get my car. I’ll be coming to the hospital as soon as I can in the morning.”

He cleared his throat.

“Well, I can do that, darlin’, but I’d be happy to give you a ride to the hospital in the mornin’.”

“No, thank you.”

He shook his head sadly but didn’t reply, and we drove home in silence. I ignored the glances he threw my way every couple of minutes. I knew it had taken him a while to warm up to me, but hearing what he’d said, what he’d accused me of—it hurt.

Once we reached the bank, I slipped out of the car.

“Thanks,” I said, without looking in his direction.

I heard him sigh, and then the car pulled away.

When I arrived back, lights were shining from every window like beacons, or warning lights. Gloria hadn’t drawn the curtains and I could see her going from room to room, observing the changes wrought on her home. It seemed like a violation of my makeshift family, and I had to remind myself it was still her home and not mine, despite everything that had happened in the last couple of months. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stay with her in the house, her spite and hatred seeping into the air.

I climbed out of the car wearily, feeling the ache in my arms and ribs where Leather Jacket had manhandled me.

I walked in to find Paul hovering in the hallway.

Then Gloria was suddenly standing in front of me.

“So you live here now,” she said.

Her voice carried no inflection, which seemed odd after the way she’d spoken to me at the hospital.

I nodded, and started to walk around her and up the stairs to Jordan’s room, to our room.

“Why?” she called after me.

“What?”

“Why do you live here?”

I didn’t know what to make of her question.

“Because Jordan lives here,” I said, tired and irritated by this bizarre Q&A.

“It looks like you have all your things here.”

I locked my eyes on hers. “You’ve been in our bedroom.”

She seemed almost nervous. “I didn’t know you’d moved in. Paul didn’t tell me…”

I nodded slowly. “Well, now you know. Stay out of our room.”

I turned to carry on walking up the stairs.

“Why aren’t you at the Rectory?” she asked, her tone insistent.

I stared at her tiredly. “Because my mother made me choose and I chose Jordan. Don’t worry, Gloria, as soon as his parole is done, we’ll be gone. Long gone, nothing but a cloud of dust behind us.”

She didn’t reply and neither did Paul. I hadn’t spoken to him since the hospital. Maybe Gloria had got the result she’d wanted when she unleashed her forked tongue.

I was about to leave them at the bottom of the stairs, when I turned to face her once more.

“You know what your problem is? You’ve turned Mikey’s death into a life sentence for all of you—for Paul, for Jordan. You turned them into lifers. That’s what you’re doing here—and that’s what you want for Jordan. But I’m not going to let it happen. I’m not going to let him suffer anymore. What you do with your lives is up to you, but Jordan deserves better than that. And I’ll spend the rest of my life with him, making sure he knows he’s loved and forgiven.”

I didn’t wait to hear any reply. I trudged up the stairs and into our room. I flipped the light switch on and stared around. Jordan had made the bed. That didn’t surprise me, he was so tidy. He felt like he was breaking a law if he left a wrinkle in the sheets.

His towel was still damp from showering before we’d gone out, and it was hanging neatly over the back of the chair. I picked it up and held it to my face, breathing deeply. I managed to get to the bathroom before the tears came. I peeled off my clothes and crawled into the shower, my stomach heaving as I washed Jordan’s blood from my hair.

I was too tired to dry it, so I wrapped myself in Jordan’s towel and fell onto the bed, my wet hair falling around me like tears.

The sheets smelled of Jordan, too. He didn’t wear cologne but I could smell the soap he used and his sweet, spicy, natural scent.

It felt wrong sleeping in our bed without him. I hated it. There hadn’t been a night since we’d been together when we hadn’t made love. Even when I got home from work and it was after one in the morning, his warm body would wake and stretch as I slid in next to him. And even if we were both bone weary, we needed that connection at the end of our day.

I’d learned a lot about Jordan in the last couple of months. I’d learned how his body responded to my touch. I’d learned the little tells he had that told me when he was desperate to come but wanted me to get there first. He’d bite his lip and stare into the corner of the room. I teased him about that and asked him what he was thinking. He never did tell me. For all I knew, he was going over baseball stats. But ya know, that wasn’t really something I was desperate to hear. I just appreciated that he cared about my satisfaction.

He went crazy when I dragged my fingernails down his back, even when we weren’t in bed. He didn’t really have a favorite position but I’d learned that he loved fast, rough sex followed by slow, gentle, sensuous love-making. Through and through, Jordan was an intriguing mix of contradictions: his hard body, his soft lips; his serious, sensible nature; his wild and passionate side; the scary, prison demeanor he could switch on; his gentle soul.

I don’t think Jordan realized half of these things. It seemed as if he was rediscovering himself, the person he was going to become since prison. He had no idea that all the other women at Starbucks drooled over him, and quite a few of the girls who worked in the mall would suddenly come in for coffee when they saw his truck in the parking lot. Or maybe he noticed but just wasn’t interested. Either way, it was one of the things that I’d grown to love about him.

And he definitely had no clue how intimidating he could be. He’d scared the crap out of my manager one day. Gus had been yelling at me and the rest of the staff about some supposed misdemeanor, when Jordan had made one of his after work visits to the coffee shop. Gus saw this tall, tattooed guy with rippling muscles and cold stare, and had totally abandoned trying to ream us out. I knew that Jordan had switched to his defensive, prison mode, because he was meeting a guy he didn’t know. But Gus, the little jerk, had just about shit his shorts when I introduced them and he realized that Jordan was my boyfriend. Things at work eased up a lot after that.

And then there were all the little things Jordan did that showed me he loved me.

He didn’t think I noticed, but I did. Making me breakfast at 5 AM even though he didn’t have to be up for work himself; starting the shower before I got in it so the water would be warm; turning over the Princess’ engine so she started first time for me; putting my shoes away and hanging up my jacket so it didn’t get wrinkled; making sure he recorded my favorite TV shows when I was working.

Small things, for sure, but gestures that told me more than words how much he loved me.

I pulled the cold sheets closer around me. I knew I no longer had a choice. I was with Jordan Kane and always would be. He was my life, my forever, ‘til death us do part. And maybe not even then.

 

 

 

I woke up suddenly. There was no sleepy confusion, no sense of quietly slipping between the dream world and the waking world. I knew instantly where I was and what had happened. I knew I had to be at the hospital.

Not normally a morning person, today I moved quickly and with purpose.

Today I marched to the shower, uncaring who I met or what they might say to me. I felt like a gladiator about to go into battle.

I showered quickly and tugged my hair into a damp clump at the back of my head.

I wondered whether it would be worth phoning the hospital, but then I figured it would be easier to just get there. I contemplated going straight to my car, but my stomach growled and I decided that Gloria wasn’t chasing me out of the place that had become my home with Jordan. If she wanted to avoid me, she could leave.

Paul and Gloria were sitting with plates of scrambled eggs and toast in front of them. Paul was distractedly pushing the eggs around his plate, and neither seemed to be eating. He looked up when he saw me.

“How are you, Torrey?”

“Tired, sore, pissed. You?”

He winced at my blunt tone. Gloria didn’t say anything.

I put some bread in the toaster and helped myself to coffee.

“There’s eggs. If you want them.”

I nearly dropped my mug and managed to splash hot coffee over my jeans.

“What?”

I turned and stared at Gloria.

“I’ve made plenty,” she said. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“Why are you talking to me?” I asked, suspicion making my words snap and crackle.

Paul coughed, obviously ill at ease with the duel starting up in front of him.

“I phoned the hospital,” he said, cutting off my anger at Gloria. “They say Jordan had a good night.”

I gave a staccato nod. I knew it was irrational, but I felt jealous that Paul had done something that I’d wanted to do, that I should have done.

“The nurse said he was askin’ for you,” Paul added.

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth. “He was?”

Paul nodded. “Of course. He loves you.”

My eyes flickered toward Gloria, wondering what expression of hatred and distaste I’d see on her face. But instead she was staring at her untouched food.

A tiny bud of hope planted itself in my stomach. I tried to ignore it, but it was definitely there.

The popping of the toaster called for my attention and I slathered two slices thickly with butter. As an afterthought, I heaped three spoonfuls of eggs onto the plate, as well.

“Do you want to ride to the hospital with us?” Paul asked, tentatively.

“No thanks. I’ll make my own way.”

“Okay,” he said, quietly. “We’ll see you there.”

I nodded and occupied myself with eating.

I finished before them and cleaned off my plate in the sink. Paul called after me as I left the room.

“Torrey, wait up.”

“What is it, Paul? I want to get going.”

He pursed his lips. “I am sorry that I said that about you. I didn’t mean it. I never did.”

I sighed. “Fine. Whatever. Apology accepted. I have to go.”

“Darlin’, please?”

“I can’t deal with this now, Paul. Yeah, what you said hurt, but I can’t, I just can’t!”

“You’re not the only one who cares about him, Torrey.”

I met his eyes at last.

“I know.”

I broke a few speed limits getting to the hospital. Jordan would have been pissed. He was always such a careful driver, which given the reason, wasn’t surprising.

It took several frustrating minutes before I could locate him. They’d moved him from post-op recovery to a unit on the far side of the hospital. I clip-clopped my way along the overly polished corridors, becoming irritated when slow moving patients blocked my path. Why the hell didn’t everyone stick to the right hand side? I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from yelling at a woman strolling along with a portable drip on wheels. Out of my way! I’m in a hurry here!

She smiled at me pleasantly and I grimaced in return.

When I found Jordan, he was alone in a small room. His left eye was heavily bandaged, and although it barely seemed possible, he looked even worse than the day before. His entire face was swollen beyond recognition and his chest and arms were mottled green, purple, and black.

I thought he was sleeping and I tried to hold back a sob, but his good eye fluttered open.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his voice thick with tiredness and pain. “I’ve been waitin’ for you.”

“Yeah, well, I was going to get a manicure this morning, but the hospital was on the way, so … here I am.”

He managed a weak smile, although the effort seemed to tire him, and he turned his hand palm up on the bed, silently asking me to hold him.

He was right: I felt better being able to touch him and feel his warm, calloused skin. I leaned over and brushed a soft kiss over his forehead. It was about the only part of him that wasn’t damaged.

“So, how they treating you in here?”

“’Sbetter than prison,” he chuckled, hoarsely.

“Nah, you just have low standards,” I quipped.

He started to shake his head then winced.

“Not anymore, sweetheart. I have you. Pure gold.”

I tried to laugh it off, even though his words made my heart tremble.

“You may look like you’ve been run over by a truck, Jordan Kane, but you are one smooth talker!”

He tugged weakly on my hand. “Not smooth,” he mumbled. “I love you.”

“I know,” I said, quietly. “I love you, too.”

His good eye blinked open again. “You … you love me?”

“I told you last night, but you were too busy being unconscious.”

His eyelid fluttered closed and his face contorted with the effort of holding in the emotions that churned inside him. I saw a single tear roll down his cheek.

“Jordan,” I said, slowly, “we have to talk about this. About what you let those men do to you. It’s got to stop. You know that, right? Enough is enough. I won’t stand by and watch that again. I can’t.”

He looked up, watching me, measuring my expression. “Parole’s nearly over,” he murmured.

“Don’t tell me that was the only thing stopping you from fighting back. You told me last night that you were paying a debt!”

His brow wrinkled in confusion. “I said that?”

“Yes. Because it was Ryan Dupont?”

“Oh, yeah. I remember,” he said, thickly.

“The police were here last night,” I added, as his fingers tightened around my hand. “They’ll want to talk to you. They told us that Ryan turned himself in. He’s refusing to say who the other guys were, though. The cops are waiting to speak to you to see if you want to press charges.”

He shook his head minutely. “No charges.”

Which was pretty much what I’d imagined he’d say.

My voice took on a frustrated edge. “If you refuse to press charges then you have to promise me that this is where it ends. Because I’m telling you, Jordan, I don’t ever want to see you like this again. Ever. I won’t stand by and let you self destruct out of some twisted sense of … justice … or atonement. If you can’t move on, I don’t see that we can have a future.”

God, I didn’t mean those words but I needed to shock him, to make him see sense.

His fingers squeezed around mine more tightly.

“I’ll never forget what I did, Torrey.”

“And I don’t expect you to. But you have to live, not exist in some twilight half-world. I want to share a future with you, Jordan, but not like this.” My voice shook. “I can’t.”

He tried to take a deep breath but the pain from his broken ribs drained the blood from his face.

“No more,” he whispered. “Together. Us together.”

“The debt is paid?”

He hesitated.

“I’ll pay ‘til my dyin’ day, sweetheart, but by livin’, not wastin’ my life.”

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

He lay quietly while I drew slow circles over his wrist, rubbing my finger over his tattoo. Relief warmed my whole body, and I felt a glow of love for the man lying next to me.

Jordan had drifted back into a drug-aided sleep when his primary physician arrived for the morning rounds.

He ignored me completely, flipping through the chart on the end of Jordan’s bed then barking out some instructions to the minions following him.

When he turned to leave, still without speaking to me, I was fuming. I’d had a really bad 24 hours and I’d just reached my limit.

“Hey!” I barked. “I am sitting here! I do exist!”

“Excuse me?” he said, haughtily.

“Doctor…?”

“Dr. Markov.”

“Well, Dr. Markov, as it has clearly escaped your attention, I would point out that your patient has a relation sitting by his bed, waiting somewhat anxiously to hear a report of how he’s progressing after both a surgical procedure and a severe beating.” I was just getting into my stride. “May I remind you of your duty primum non nocere, and right now that includes not raising my blood pressure above its very comfortable base level of 120/80. So, please, be so good as to tell me how the hell my fiancé is doing!”

He blinked several times as my voice became louder, and several of the students accompanying him looked nervous. Yeah, well, they could learn a lesson in manners just as much as Dr. Jerk-off.

“Ahem. Mr. Kane’s blood pressure is stable; his blood work looks good. I believe the retina reattachment was successful and that Dr. Linden was pleased with the surgery. There’s no blood in his urine, which is a good sign, especially after receiving blows to the kidneys. In short, he’s doing well.”

“Thank you so much,” I snapped back. “Next time you might like to offer up information without having to have it surgically extracted from your anus!”

His mouth dropped open then closed with a click. He swept out of the room, but not before I glimpsed a smile on the faces of some of the students.

Jordan opened his good eye. “I think you scared him, firecracker.”

“Oh, you’re awake!”

“Didn’t have much choice what with all the hollerin’.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just, he pissed me off so badly!”

Jordan gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I noticed. You sounded real lawyer-like right up until the part where you told him he had his head up his ass. But even that sounded classy.”

I smiled and stroked his arm, happy that he felt up to making jokes.

“Well, I was a paralegal for three years; I picked up a few tricks.”

He looked at me thoughtfully.

“You want to go back to doin’ that, sweetheart?”

I nodded my head emphatically.

“Yes, I do. More than ever.”

He frowned at me. “Why’s that?”

“Well, lawyers see paralegals as pretty low ranking—‘glorified secretary’ I’ve been called, when the lawyer is an asshole—but we’re the ones who can talk to the clients in plain English. I can’t advise anyone, but I can explain the advice they’ve been given in words they understand. People find lawyers intimidating. I’m not like that.”

Jordan laughed quietly and took my hand in his.

“Sweetheart, you just intimidated the shit out of that doctor. You intimidated me the first time I met you, and just about every day since.”

I was taken aback. “I didn’t! Did I?”

“In a good way,” he said, soothingly. “You’re just so fearless, a real straight shooter. You don’t take shit from no one, and you say it like it is. I love that about you. I think you’d be a great paralegal. Hell, you’d be a great lawyer if you wanted to be.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Nah, I tried law school. Couldn’t stick with it. I like my job, or I will when I get another one. I was thinking maybe I’d look into getting a Masters degree. Maybe.”

He was silent for a moment. “You know I’ll support whatever you want to do, right? If you want to go back to school. Whatever you want, we’ll make it happen.”

“That goes for you, too, Jordan.”

He closed his good eye, a peaceful expression on his bruised face.

“Kinda sounds like we’re plannin’ a future, sweetheart.”

I smiled to myself. “Doesn’t it just,” I agreed.

I looked up when the door to Jordan’s room opened quietly, and his parents stepped inside.

“Your dad’s here,” I whispered, running one finger down his neck. “And your mom.”

Jordan glanced up as Paul came into his vision.

“How’re you doin’, son?”

I think Jordan meant to shrug, but he winced instead.

“Been better. Okay, I think.”

“Momma’s here.”

Jordan didn’t reply as Gloria stepped forward.

“I hear you got engaged,” she said.

Jordan blinked a couple of times and flicked his gaze to me, then started to smile.

“Is that what you heard?”

I squeezed his hand. “Sure, goes a long way with the hospital staff.”

He looked confused for a moment and some of his bright smile faded. He gazed coolly at his mother.

“Why are you here, Momma?”

Gloria swallowed a couple of times. “Well, your father telephoned to tell me what happened. Despite … all the things … I wanted to make sure you were … all right.”

Jordan gave a short, cynical laugh that ended with a gasp of pain.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Momma. Nothin’ to worry about.”

There was an awkward silence and Jordan turned his head away.

“Right,” I said. “I think we should let him rest now.”

“Of course,” Paul agreed, quickly.

Gloria just nodded and left the room.

“Stay with me, sweetheart,” Jordan mumbled, his voice slurring with sleep.

“Always,” I whispered.

 

 

 

Jordan had been sleeping for over an hour. All that time, he hadn’t let go of my hand. I sat next to him, watching his chest rise and fall steadily.

When the door opened, I was surprised to see we had a new visitor.

“Hello, Torrey.”

I froze and eyed her warily as she hovered by the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Jordan. And you.”

“Really, Mom?” I said, snidely.

“Yes really, Torrey. To be honest, I’ve been trying to think of what to say to you for a while now. When this happened to Jordan, I realized that I’ve been so…”

“Hypocritical? Judgmental? Sanctimonious?”

She gave a small smile.

“Yes, all of those. Can I come in?”

“He’s sleeping.”

“I’d like to talk to you, if I may?”

I nodded tiredly, and she pushed the door fully open and walked inside.

As soon as she saw Jordan’s battered body, she gasped.

“Oh no!”

I stared at her.

“Oh yes, Mom. That’s what they did to him. They beat him to the ground, kicked him while he was there then beat him some more. When he was unconscious, they stopped. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t even try to defend himself.”

“But why?”

“Seriously? You can ask that question with a straight face?”

Her expression was confused and full of pain.

“Since he got out of prison and came back here, everyone’s been treating him like he’s trash, like he deserved this to happen. So guess what? He believed them. He believed people like you who thought he deserved to be punished. Congratulations, Mom. Jordan agrees with you. He thinks he’s a piece of shit.”

“No! I never … Torrey, no! I never said that!”

“Oh, come on, Mom! Your big speech to him about your ‘moral obligations’? He chose love, the same as me. And these people,” I waved at Jordan’s bruised face, “they chose hate.”

She swallowed several times.

“You love him?”

“Yes, Mom, I do. I didn’t choose an ex-con just to piss you off, no matter what you think. Jordan is a good person, a kind person, and he makes me happy when he’s not getting the shit kicked out of him because of some twisted sense of honor. And believe me, we’ve already had words about that. Before him, it was just a string of faceless guys. He made me believe in myself, Mom. Because he loves me.”

“Oh, Torrey! I’m so very sorry. I like Jordan, I do. But I love you. All I cared about was your well-being.”

I stared at her coldly.

“Well, that’s just not true, Mom, is it? You cared more about your reputation as the community’s moral guardian. Couldn’t have your daughter screwing the local leper.”

Her face flushed, and she looked down.

“I’ve tried to do the right thing by you as well as by my conscience. But I’m not perfect, and I don’t always get it right. I really am sorry about what I said, Torrey. About you, about Jordan. You’re right, it was a bad case of double standards. But I hope you’ll believe me when I say I was worried about my daughter. I was behaving like a mom, not like a priest. I’ve had time to examine my conscience, you might say. I’ve prayed a lot.”

I rolled my eyes. “Great. Did ya get any good advice this time?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she shot back.

I had to smile at that. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So,” she said, slowly. “How are things with you and Jordan?”

“It was getting really good. We were making plans for the future.”

“And now?”

“Honestly, Mom, I want to say we’ll be fine…”