Always (Carter Kids #1.5) (8 page)
Read Always (Carter Kids #1.5) Online
Authors: Chloe Walsh
It was four days later, when I was soaking in my bathtub back home in Cork, and reading through my text messages that I realized I hadn't left a forwarding address for Jordan.
* We need to talk. *
* Pick up the phone. *
* Hope, don't ignore me. You can't drop a bomb like that and run away. *
* I know I've done some things that are unforgivable, but we need to talk about this. If you won't call me, then text me. *
* Hope, it's been three days. I can't sleep. I can't fucking think about anything. I feel like my life's been put on pause. Call me. We need to resolve this. *
* Come on, Keychain. Answer me. *
I didn’t answer him.
Instead, I chose to let Jordan Porter wallow in his misery. He had so easily forgotten about me back then, so why should I run to him and wag my tail like a dog?
I wouldn’t.
It simply wasn’t my style. I wasn’t the roll-over-and-beg–for-attention type of girl and Jordan Porter could go fuck himself for all I cared.
I was done.
I would sign his stupid papers, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to make it easy for him – and
Annabelle
.
I scoffed loudly and laid my head back, allowing the bubbles and water to encase me. God, I loved the bathtub in this place.
I planned on ignoring the asshole hammering on my apartment door, but then I thought of Mrs. Crowley next door. Teagan wasn’t home and Mrs. Crowley was frail and elderly. Loud noises terrified the poor woman.
Grumbling to myself, I hauled myself out of the tub, wrapped the only clean towel I had left – a thin, ratty blue one that had seen better days – before trudging out to the kitchen/lounge and opening our shiny new apartment door.
The angry retort I had on the tip of my tongue died the moment my eyes locked on his intense green ones.
"What are you …?" My voice trailed off, my tongue felt like sandpaper, and I licked my lips to moisten them before readjusting my scanty towel.
"Doing here?" Jordan added coldly, never taking his eyes off my face. "What else did you expect me to do?"
Go away …
Leave me alone …
Never contact me again ...
All of my silent answers must have shown in my eyes or something because Jordan nodded stiffly and shifted around. "You dropped one hell of a bombshell on me, Keychain," he mused.
Dropping a duffel bag on the floor at his feet, he lowered a guitar case to rest at his side. "Are you going to invite me in, or do you want to have this conversation in the hallway – dressed like that?"
"I'm fine here," I shot back, refusing to feel embarrassed. Screw it. I wasn’t embarrassed. I was, however, furious, and having Jordan here caused that irritation to soar. "It shouldn’t take long."
"Suit yourself," he countered evenly, as his gaze slowly drifted downwards, resting on my barely covered chest. Jordan's eyes darkened, but I refused to cover myself. Let him look. That's all he would be doing. "Where would you like to start?"
"Hmm." I pretended to think about it for a second before raising my hand and smacking his cheek with the palm of my hand. "That's as good a place as any," I replied as my chest heaved. My palm stung, but the relief I felt was huge.
"I deserved that one," Jordan said gruffly, eyes locked on mine.
"No," I hissed. "You deserve two thousand, five hundred and sixty more where that came from – one for every day you've been a complete asshole to me – but I happen to need the use of my hand for work, so you'll have to settle with one."
"You're still my wife," he said eventually.
"Yep," I said sarcastically. "And I'm really sorry, honey, but I forgot to put the pot-roast in the oven. Shall I grab your slippers, or run you a bath instead?"
He glared at me. "Don't joke, Hope."
I glared back at him. "Don't tell me what to do, Jordan."
"I wouldn’t dare," he chuckled softly. "You're still as stubborn as ever."
"What can I say," I snapped, clutching the opening of my towel with a death grip. "It's a defense mechanism I got from my mother."
"You get it from your father, Keychain," Jordan mused. "You're nothing like your mom."
"I could say the same about you," I muttered, letting the door swing inwards.
He was right.
This wasn’t the kind of conversation I wanted to have in a hallway. I was freezing and Jordan was unsettling me. "And please refrain from calling me that," I added as I turned around and headed straight for my bedroom, not bothering to check and see if he was following.
Jordan could do as he pleased.
Meanwhile, I was layering myself up. I felt too exposed around him, but I doubted any amount of clothing could change that. He simply had that effect on me.
Grabbing a T-shirt and sweats from my wardrobe, I dressed quickly and went into the bathroom to let the water out of my bath before heading back to the lounge.
Jordan was standing in my lounge. When he saw me his brow creased. "You still have that shirt?"
I looked down at myself and cringed.
Years ago, during my pop music phase, I had forced Jordan to drive eighty miles out of State to a
1D
concert. He had been disgusted with me, but I hadn’t cared and had even persuaded him to dance with me that night.
Jordan was an amazing dancer, but you would never be able to tell by the way he kept himself so far apart from the rest of the word.
So unattached and aloof …
The pink shirt with the band members' faces was well worn now, but one of my secret comforts. The fact that I'd kept it meant more than I would ever let on. Jordan had already messed me up so badly, I wouldn't let him know it. "It's comfy," was all I replied.
He nodded and remained quiet so I decided to make coffee. Call it a nervous trait, but I couldn’t stand awkward silences. I wasn’t one of those people who could sit quietly with strangers. I either made conversation or I left. Simple as that. That's that way Jordan seemed to me now and my heart hurt with that truth.
I had spent years of my life in his company, glued to his side, but now, standing in my kitchen with him a few feet behind me, I had never felt so disconnected with him … so alone and sad.
I couldn’t believe this was what had happened to us after eighteen years of friendship.
It seriously sucked.
"Hope, can you stop moving around and talk to me for a while?"
"I'm thirsty," I replied and continued busying myself with making coffee – anything to delay the inevitable.
"We need to talk," I heard him say. "Hope, we need to sort this out."
"You need to sort this out. I need a drink," I shot back. "That's what I need." I knew why he was here. I knew what he wanted. I just didn’t know if I was strong enough to give it to him.
Jordan growled impatiently. "Can you do what you're told," he snapped as he stalked towards me, getting in my personal space. "For once in your goddamn life?"
"Why break the habit of a lifetime?" I snapped, folding my arms across my chest and glaring up at the man in front of me.
Shaking his head, Jordan tutted loudly. "You're such a brat."
"Yeah, well, you're such an asshole," I growled. "What's new?"
Backing me up against the fridge, Jordan stepped closer until his shoes were touching my bare toes. "Spoilt, entitled little daddy's girl," he rasped, and there was a glint of humor in his eyes.
"Overgrown momma's boy," I retorted, as my heart hammered against my chest.
"You're pushing me, Keychain," Jordan husked with a smirk.
An answer was on the tip of my tongue, but it got lost when I noticed the hunger burning in Jordan's green eyes. We were closer than we had been in seven years. "Don't marry her," I blurted out instead.
I didn’t blush.
I didn’t flinch.
Instead, I stared into his eyes, daringly, forcing him to see me – to see what he was throwing away. "Don't do it," I repeated, holding my breath, fearing his answer. "We have unfinished business and you know it."
"What are you saying?" he whispered.
I didn’t know what I was saying. All I sure about was what I felt in my bones and this man had not been put on this earth for any woman other than me.
"You know what I'm saying," I breathed, chest heaving. "Don't marry her."
Have me …
Rubbing his jaw with his hand, Jordan sighed heavily. "She's not to blame here, Hope," he whispered. "All she did was fall in love with …"
"My husband," I snapped. "All she did was fall in love with
my
husband." Folding my arms across my chest, I glared up at me. "Doe she even know about me?" I demanded. "About us?"
"Hope," Jordan pleaded. "You know I'm no good for you." His body trembled as he spoke. "You're young," he added, in an almost desperate tone "You'll do all of this again – with someone else, someone better than me."
"Say you don’t love me," I hissed, grabbing the labels of his shirt and dragging him closer. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me and I'll sign your papers."
****
Hope & Jordan's story will be
continued in their full-length novel:
Inevitable
December 2015
(Carter Kids #1.5)
Hope Carter
Swedish House Mafia: Don't You Worry, Child
Nelly Furtado: Try
Nicole Scherzinger: Run
Paramore: Still Into You
Rihanna & Justin Timberlake: Rehab
Rudimental: More Than Anything
Robyn: Be Mine
Sinead Ó Connor: Take Me To Church
Sugarland: Stay
Taylor Swift: All Too Well
Lady Gaga: Born This Way
No Doubt: Just a Girl
Rihanna: Cheers (Drink to That)
Taylor Swift: The Way I Loved You
Taylor Swift: 22
Jordan Porter
Rude: Magic
Ed Sheehan: Thinking Out Loud
Sam Smith: Stay With Me
Hozier: Take Me To Church
Joan Armstrong: The weakness in me
Switchfoot: On Fire
David Gray: This Year's Love
Guns N Roses: Sweet Child o' mine
McFly: Down by the Lake
Snow Patrol: Chocolate
Nickleback: Too Bad
Tal Bachman: Aeroplane
Nickleback: Far Away
First off, if you are reading this acknowledgements section then I would like to thank
you
– the reader – for purchasing my story. Thank you. I cannot begin to explain how much I appreciate your support.
Again, like most of my acknowledgements, I
need
to thank Tracey-Lee and Alycia. I love you girls. You're the best friends I could have hoped for. I wouldn’t be here without these two remarkable women.
Thank you to the ladies in Chloe's Clovers for your support and encouragement.
And to my family and friends: Thank you and I love you.
Chloe. x
About the author
Chloe Walsh was born and raised in West Cork, Ireland.
From a young age she became engrossed in the world of books, devouring work by authors like Bernadette Leach, Claire Hennessy and Enid Blyton.
Chloe excelled in most subjects at school and shone on the football pitch; yet socializing proved difficult: all her life she has suffered from depression, acute social agoraphobia and OCD.
Plagued with mental health issues as a teenager, Chloe relied heavily on her flair for writing as her own personal form of therapy. In her bid to relieve her festering anxiety, she wrote vividly and passionately about a world outside that she was unable to interact with.
With the support of the tremendous teaching staff at St Brogan's College, even though she was unable to attend school on a regular basis, Chloe was able to sit her Junior Certificate in 2005 and six years later - at the ripe, ‘old’ age of 21 - her Leaving Certificate.
Despite her efforts to make it work, Chloe’s illness meant that her dream of attending university proved unrealistic. Instead, she taught herself by taking several long-distance correspondence courses in psychology, childcare and counseling.
In January 2014, Chloe started to write about a cocky, self-assured man named Kyle Carter, and five weeks later, on Valentine's day 2014, she self-published her debut novel,
Break My Fall
, for a handful of her loyal and patient friends who had called over for tea, read bits and pieces of Kyle, and wanted to read the story on their Kindles rather than printed sheets.
No one was more surprised than Chloe when the book was a huge success, reaching No.1 in the UK iTunes and Amazon Bestsellers Lists.
Even though she is grateful for it, the enormity of her writing success causes Chloe bouts of anxiety - she is a social agoraphobic, after all - but the support of her husband, her parents, siblings, and friends is a huge help.
Please feel free to contact her on her Facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/AuthorChloeWalsh
Or check out her website:
http://www.chloewalshauthor.com
Or follow her on Amazon
