: Chapter 8

The next morning, I’m surprised to see I’m the first one up. Jordan is usually moving about, showering, or working on her laptop before I’m even downstairs, but the house seems empty. I open the front door and notice Cole’s car isn’t in the driveway, either.

It’s Sunday morning. He wouldn’t be up already. Did they not come home then?

I go about my business, carrying on with my morning, but as it reaches ten, I want to get going on the main bathroom, tearing out the old tub and prying up the floor tiles, but it’s going to be a lot of noise. I knock on Jordan and Cole’s door to make sure they’re not in there.

No one answers, and I crack open the door to see the bed still made and the bedroom empty. I guess they must’ve crashed at a friend’s last night. I close it again and get to work.

“Hey,” Cole says as he walks into the kitchen an hour later.

I shut the fridge, clutching a soda, and turn toward him as he tosses his keys on the counter. He looks haggard, his hair matted and his eyes red.

“Hey.” I gesture to the cabinet to the left. “The aspirin’s in there. Get yourself some water and a shower. You can help me with the bathroom.”

He nods, but he looks like he’s two seconds from vomiting. His skin is a sallow green, and I actually feel sorry for him. I don’t miss that feeling.

“You’re drinking a lot,” I say.

He ignores me, shuffling toward the cabinet and pouring himself some aspirin.

I press further. “You’re drinking too much.”

He still says nothing, but his jaw flexes, telling me he heard me.

I wish he’d talk to me. Even fight with me, because it’s better than nothing. I want to hear about his job and his life. About the friend he lost. I shouldn’t have learned something like that through Jordan.

I should’ve pushed harder when he started to shut me out. So much harder.

But I know who I really have to blame for the wedge between us.

“I was good to your mother,” I tell him.

He sniffles, taking another huge gulp of water and still not looking at me.

He’ll believe her. He’s not ready to hear me yet. But I’m still saying it.

“I worked hard, I supported you both, and I was faithful.” I rise from the seat and look down at him. “You can ask me questions. I won’t lie.”

But he just shakes his head, finishing off the glass and setting it down. “I gotta get a shower.”

He turns to walk away, but I’m not done yet.

“Have I ever not done something you asked me to do?” I ask him.

He stops but doesn’t turn.

Anytime he needed money, I gave it to him. Anytime he needed a ride, I was there. Whenever he wanted to go somewhere or see something or take a karate class or just be with me, I was always there for him. Pain stretches through my chest as I stare at his back.

I was a good father. When he wanted me around.

“Have you ever caught me in a lie?” I go on.

A lie she didn’t teach him to believe, that is?

He looks over his shoulder at me, and I can see the struggle in his eyes. He wants to be angry at something or someone, and I was that target for a long time, but now he’s not sure why anymore. He has to start seeing who his mother is and what she does to people. He needs to stop letting her do it to him.

“I’m here,” I say. “Okay?”

I hear him breathe, the rise and fall of his chest heavy, and finally he nods, still looking hesitant, but it’s something.

Then he turns and walks out of the room, toward the stairs, but I suddenly glance at the front door again, something occurring to me.

“Where’s Jordan?” I call, walking into the living room.

He’s halfway up the stairs but looks over at me again and shakes his head, still not speaking.

“Didn’t you pick her up from work last night?” I question. “Weren’t you both together?”

“No.” He yawns and rubs his hand through his hair. “I’d had too much to drink, so I sent one of my buddies to pick her up and bring her home. She probably went out for a run, and you just missed her.”

I stand there, trying to piece together my conversation with her last night as Cole trails upstairs.

So when I spoke to her last night, she wasn’t with Cole. Wasn’t with him at all.

And she hasn’t been home. Their bed is still made.

Cole heads upstairs, and I shout after him, just remembering. “Use my bathroom!”

I’ll be working on theirs for a little while longer, and the master bathroom has the only other shower in the house.

I move back into the kitchen, still thinking.

Why would she lie about that? If she stayed with a friend, her sister, whatever…it’s fine. But she let me believe she and Cole were together, which is why I called—to make sure they both were okay.

I sent one of my buddies to pick her up and bring her home.

Yeah, your buddy didn’t bring her home. I have a half a mind to be worried, but she lied for a reason.

And despite how much I like Jordan, I can’t help the old feelings curling through my gut that I haven’t felt for a very long time. I don’t like being lied to.

Especially by women.

An hour later, I walk into Grounders and already see a lunch crowd filling the high-top tables and bar. A couple servers dressed in their jeans, tight shirts, and little aprons carry plates to bikers pit-stopping during their Sunday runs and hunters coming in from their early morning jaunts. The bar is filled with old-timers who look like they slept in their clothes last night, and the dank fluorescent lighting makes everything look dirty despite the smell of Pine-Sol stinging my nostrils.

The soles of my work boots stick to the floor with every step I take across the room. I’ve never understood the appeal of this place or why it’s lasted so long.

I spot Jordan at the other end of the bar, her fist covered with a white towel and buried in a drinking glass as she dries it. I wasn’t sure she’d be here, but when she’s not at the house, this is where she is.

She’s still in the same clothes I saw her leave in last night, and a yawn stretches across her face. Her hair is bound in a high ponytail, and her lips are rosy with a hint of lipstick.

She was pretty yesterday. This morning, my suspicion is blurring everything. All of a sudden, I’m twenty again and wondering where Cole’s mother was all night.

But Jordan’s not like that. She’s a good girl.

It just doesn’t make any sense she’d say she was with Cole when she wasn’t.

Unless she was up to something she shouldn’t have been.

I don’t want Cole to go through that with Jordan. Not like I did with his mother. What if he gets her pregnant and gets stuck dealing with a person like that? I don’t want him to be fucking alone forever, because he thinks he wasn’t enough for her.

I force my breathing to calm down. I’m jumping to conclusions. Relax.

She sees me approach, and her eyes light up a little. She opens her mouth to say something, but I speak first.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “Did you have a good night?”

She cocks her head, faltering a little. “Um, yeah, I guess.”

So nothing bad happened then. She’s in one piece and seems happy enough.

“Did you and Cole have fun?” I press, my pulse starting to race.

She drops her head, avoiding my eyes as she sticks the glass under the bar. “Yeah.” She nods.

And I flex my jaw, my temper rising. She just lied again.

“Yeah, Cole seems to think he never picked you up.” I plant my hands on the bar and lean in. “He says one of his friends picked you up, but he didn’t see you the rest of the night, and you didn’t come home.”

She stares at me, a blush crossing her cheeks. “Um…Yeah, it…I… I was…”

She stammers, flustered, and I stand there waiting for the easy, simple explanation I know will come, but…

It doesn’t.

She opens her mouth to say something again, but then closes it, a slight wince in her eyes like she knows she’s been caught.

I even out my tone, trying to sound calm. “Where were you all night, Jordan?”

Her gaze flashes everywhere but on me, her shoulders tense, and her breathing gets heavier. She can answer the question. She just doesn’t want to.

“Jordan?”

“Is Cole home now?” she asks.

“Yes.”

“Then we’re both fine. The rest isn’t your concern,” she states.

I narrow my gaze on her. “And my house isn’t a hotel, little girl.”

She could’ve stayed with her sister or a friend, but why lie about that? She’s hiding something.

She lifts her chin, continuing, “Where I slept last night is between Cole and me.”

I keep my face straight, but all that floods my head are the images of a very young and stupid me catching my girlfriend screwing some guy in a car in front of our apartment at three in the morning. If it looks like a duck and walks like a duck…

Yeah.

I push off the bar and cross my arms over my chest. “I honestly don’t care what you do, Jordan,” I tell her, my heart slowly icing over, “but I’m not stupid, either. Cole may be distracted, but I’m not. Whoever picked you up last night didn’t bring you home, so if you’re screwing around on my son, I’ll take offense to that,” I warn her. “And then I’ll ask you to leave my goddamn house. I’m not paying to support someone like that. You understand? Don’t you ever lie to me again.”

Her jaw flexes like she’s as angry as I am. I expect her sharp tongue to come flying back at me, and I think it will for a moment, but then it doesn’t. Instead her eyes start to water, and her chin trembles as she breathes small, shallow breaths. She looks away, blinking.

“Yeah, got it,” she says quietly. And then she puts the towel down and lifts up the partition, leaving the bar. “Excuse me, please.”

She walks away down the hallway and out of sight. I stare after her.

I might be wrong. I could be wrong.

But I’ve ignored my gut so many times, and I know better now. I thought she was one of the good ones, but I’m not going to be made a fool of again. If she wasn’t doing anything, she would’ve answered the question.

Turning around, I head back down the bar toward the door. But a voice stops me.

“Screwing around on your son…” a female voice mocks my words. “Your precious son.”

I stop and look at Shel Foley, the owner, who stands behind the bar, a cigarette in her hand and smoke billowing in front of her face.

“You got something to say?”

She pushes off the back counter and sucks in another drag before snuffing the cigarette out in the ashtray and planting her hands on the bar. She glares at me. “Your dumbass kid was supposed to pick her up from work last night after she worked a ten-hour shift,” she tells me. “He got drunk at a party, and guess who came to get her in his stead? Jay McCabe—her ex—who thought it was fun back in high school to smack her around after he lost a game.”

What?

“She refused to be in a car with him,” Shel snarls at me. “Instead, I found her curled up, sleeping on the filthy pool table this morning, because she didn’t have anyone else to call last night.” And then she narrows her eyes. “She didn’t want you to find out what a loser your son is.”

I remain still, unable to move.

I don’t breathe, and I can’t blink, rage threatening to overflow.

He hit her. He fucking hit her? My fists curl, and my lungs ache. Every muscle burns.

Motherfucker.

And Cole was at the same party? Did he send him to pick her up? What the fuck? How can he stand to be anywhere near a shitbag like that?

A vision of some cowardly little punk grabbing Jordan, hurting her, making her cry… I…

I close my eyes.

I just made her cry.

“She’s a good kid with a really good heart,” Shel continues. “And she deserves a hell of a lot more than the assholes in this town, including your son. I hope she leaves you all to it and never looks back.”

Jesus Christ. What was I thinking?

I spin around and follow to where Jordan disappeared down the hallway. I have to talk to her now. Everything in my gut that made sense minutes ago now seems ridiculous. Why would I jump to conclusions I have no proof of?

Dammit, Cole! I can’t believe him.

I trail down the hallway, seeing the restrooms, an office, and another room with the door slightly ajar. She’s probably in the bathroom, but before I decide to wait, I inch open the other door to check there first.

She stands in the center of the small room with her back to me, but I can tell she’s wiping her eyes. Floor-to-ceiling shelves line the walls, stocking bottles of liquor, mixers, and juices, and other supplies like napkins, straws, and candles.

I stand in the doorway and hear her sniffle.

“Jordan?” I say hesitantly.

She instantly straightens, turning just enough for me to see the side of her face. “Seriously?” she says, trying hard to harden her voice. “Just leave. You want me gone? You got it, okay? I’m gone.”

I take a quiet step forward. “Jordan, I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Just go.”

“You should’ve called me,” I tell her, taking another step forward. “I would’ve been here in a heartbeat. I’m sorry. I just—”

But she suddenly whips around, glaring at me. “You know the thing about men?” she asks, wiping her eyes with a hardness to her jaw. “They think they can treat you badly, because you’ll take it. But you win when you never let them do it again.” She steps up to me, adding, “You can kiss my ass.”

And then she swings around me and leaves the room.

I deflate. I want to follow her. I want to set the record straight and let her know that I was wrong. I want to have it out and make it right, but…

I don’t know.

This is the second time we’ve argued, and both times it was my fault. We shouldn’t be fighting. It’s what a woman does with her boyfriend, not his father.

And that’s what I am. Her boyfriend’s father.

Nothing more.

But deep in my heart, the small ember growing bigger and bigger every day knows that’s a lie.

It is more. I didn’t lose my temper for Cole’s sake. It was for mine.

She’s become important, and for the first time in a long time, I found myself actually enjoying talking to someone. I started to let my guard down.

She feels good to have around.

And I just sent her packing.