Trouble (30 page)

“But I still went to Boston. You remember when I told you I had that police conference? I went then. I watched her for a few days, not in a creepy way, I just couldn’t decide whether to tell her about Belle or not. In the end, I decided against it – I didn’t think it was worth hurting Mia by telling her that the mother who had abandoned her as a baby had just died. But I wanted to know she was okay – happy. She seemed it. She was in school, had an application for Harvard. Lived in a great place and drove a nice car. And I saw her with him – her father, Oliver. They seemed to get along well.”

“Yeah, well Mia can wear a great mask, Dad. She’s a fuckin’ specialist at pretending to be something she isn’t.”

“Jordan, if I’d have known, I would have done something. You know that.”

I exhale, heavily. “Yeah, I know. I just … god, I don’t know what to do – how to tell her.”

How am I going to tell the girl I’m in love with that her mother – who left her to be raised by that monster of a man – raised me instead of her?

She’ll blame me. I’m going to lose her.

I feel physically sick at the thought.

“Just tell her the truth. Exactly as I’ve told you.”

I scrub my hand over my face. “She won’t be able to get past this. She’s going to blame me. I’m going to lose her.”

“No, you won’t,” he states vehemently.

“Belle left her with him and chose to raise me instead. I know if it were me, it would kill me.”

“Jordan, this isn’t your fault. I’ll come home. I’ll explain it to her—”

“No.” I pull in a deep breath. “She needs to hear this from me.”

“You’re sure?”

No.
“Yes. I’ll tell her.”

“Okay. You know Mia best. Call me when you’ve talked to her. Let me know how she’s doing?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Jordan?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s going to be fine, son. I promise.”

I swallow past the burning in my throat, wishing I could be as confident as he is.

“I’ll call you later.” I hang up the phone, dropping it to the table with a clatter, I let my head follow.

A minute later I hear the backdoor open.

“Hey, you okay?” Mia’s soft sweet voice carries through the room, hitting me with a pure agony.

I lift my head, turning to her. The warm smile on her face instantly disappears, turning to worry at my expression.

“Jordan – is everything okay?” She moves quickly toward me.

“I–” The words stick in my throat, and start to sink fast … fast like rocks in water.

“Jordan?”

Oh god. I can’t tell her.

I can’t.

I get to my feet and take her beautiful face in my hands, forcing a smile onto my deceitful mouth.

“Everything’s fine, babe.”

Then I press my lying lips to her soft, warm, honest mouth, hating my weak, cowardly-self more and more, with each passing second.

Chapter Twenty

Mia

There’s something eating at Jordan. He thinks I don’t know, but I can see it in his eyes, and in the way his expression drops every time he thinks I’m not looking.

He’s been acting strange after the telephone call he took from his dad the other day.

At first I thought maybe they’d had a disagreement, but now I know it’s something more. And the paranoid, sadistic part of me is starting to think it’s something to do with me – that maybe, he’s changed his mind about us.

A part of me wishes he would just tell me so I would know either way.

I could ask him, but then I’m afraid what his answer will be. So like the masochist I am, I’m taking whatever he throws my way. Granted, he’s throwing a lot my way, but there’s still something off. I just wish I had more strength than I do. I wish I could just up and leave, and stop being so damn pathetic over a man, who I’m pretty sure doesn’t want me anymore.

And the worst thing is, I’ve realized I’m in love with him.

I know, right?

You think I would have learned my lesson by now.

And it’s not as if I can tell him how I feel, or that there’s any point. Not while he’s working himself away from me.

I just wish he didn’t know so much about me. It makes me feel vulnerable to him.

I know what I need to do – pack my things and move out of here, stay somewhere else. It just feels a little easier said than done at the moment.

I also need to grow a backbone and pay a visit to the last Anna Monroe on my list. It just feels a million times harder now I don’t have Jordan there to hold my hand.

I guess he really is what he told me he was in the beginning – unable to commit to a girl. And no matter how much wishing on my part for me to have been the one to change him – the signs are telling me otherwise.

Yes, he says he wants me. But each time he’s said that, he’s either been inside me, or well on his way to it. And I know better than anyone that a man will say things he doesn’t mean while he’s having sex with you.

Last night was no different. I’d woken up in the early hours of the morning to find Jordan gone from his bed, and in the space beside me, where he’d fallen asleep, was a sleeping Dozer, stretched out and snoring.

In the end, my curiosity and frustration won out. I’d searched the hotel to no success, then eventually found him sitting out on the boardwalk over the lake, drinking a beer…

I walked over and stood between his open legs, staring down at him. Jordan’s hands went around the back of my thighs, fingers gripping. His head rested against them, like it was hard for him to look at me.

I slid my fingers into his hair, silently begging him to talk to me … but wishing for only things I’d want to hear.

His hand slid up my leg and took hold of my hand. He tugged me down to sit between his legs. I rested my back against his chest, and he wrapped his arm around my middle while taking a drink of his beer.

“What you doing out here so late?” I asked, my words drifting out over the lake, disappearing into the night.

He nuzzled my neck, inhaling. “Couldn’t sleep.”

I took the beer from his hand, had a swig, then handed it back.

“What’s keeping you awake?”

He placed the bottle down beside him and let out a long breath. “Nothin’.”

Nothing!

Angry, tired, and completely pissed off with his lack of communication, I got to my feet.

“If you don’t want me anymore, Jordan – this whatever we have – then just say so! Just … please, stop … this!”

I swiveled on my heel and ran back to the hotel.

He caught up with me on the porch by the main door.

His hand closed the door I was opening. He came up behind me, pressing his chest to my back.

“I want you,” he said, rough, against my ear. “Don’t ever think for one fuckin’ second that I don’t. I want you more than I have ever wanted anyone.”

“So, why all this?” I was breathing heavy, feeling confused, my heart thundering in my chest.

“All of what?”

I turned, curling my hands around the door handle as I leaned back against it. “You, being different … distant with me … I know there’s something you’re keeping from me.”

His eyes closed as if he were in pain. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

I reached for his hand, curling my fingers around his. “I just want you to talk to me.” I tugged on his hand, trying to encourage speech.

His eyes opened, staring down at our entwined hands.

A long breath. “I will…” He shook his head. “But not right now … not now.” It felt like he wasn’t even talking to me by this point.

Then his hands went to the door, either side of my head, and his lips came down hard on mine, no hesitation.

I wanted to push him away, tell him to talk to me now, not later. That kissing me wouldn’t solve whatever was eating at him.

But I didn’t. Because I didn’t want him to stop kissing me – ever.

He broke the kiss to pull my pajama tank over my head. Bending his mouth down, he took my nipple into his mouth.

My head fell back against the door with a thud.

I reached for him, unbuttoning his jeans. I slid my hand inside his boxer shorts, grabbing his hot, hard cock.

“Fuck, Mia,” he groaned, pushing himself into my hand.

Then things got heated and urgent and fast.

My pajama bottoms and panties were off, and before I knew it, I stood naked on the hotel porch, and Jordan – still fully clothed, was lifting me off my feet and slamming his cock inside me.

I cried out from the quick invasion and the instant pleasure. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I dug my fingernails hard into his shoulders.

This only set him off further.

He was hitting me with sure, hard thrusts, his jeans chaffing painfully against me, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was having him inside me. Nothing else mattered at that point.

We were outside, having crazy, furious, make-up sex in the early hours of the morning … all those things fueling it a hundred times hotter … a thousand times more intense.

“You’re mine, Mia,” he ground out as his hips pinned mine to the door, making love to me with a fierce intensity. “I’m never losing you. Never.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” I panted out, confused and turned on like never before. “Not ever.”

That was a handful of hours ago. And now I’ve woken again to find myself alone in Jordan’s bed.

I let out a sigh, swing my legs over the edge of the bed, and pay a visit to the bathroom.

I put the clothes I was wearing last night back on as I hadn’t brought any clean ones from my room. Not even ready to talk to Jordan at the moment, I decide to go back to my room so I can shower, brush my teeth, and change into clean clothes. I grab my room key from his desk and head through the house of the hotel.

When my foot is on the first step to take me upstairs to the hotel, I hear two male voices. One is Jordan. The other I don’t recognize. They’re upstairs in the office.

I debate what to do.

I don’t want to go barging into the office if he’s talking with someone important. I’ll just go out through the back door, and walk around the hotel and come in through the lobby to get to my room.

I turn on the step, but stop when I hear my name spoken. It’s not Jordan who says my name. It’s the other man.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I walk up the stairs quietly, the voices becoming clearer.

“… can’t believe this, Jordan.”

I hear him sigh. “I know, Dad. I’ve fucked up.”

His dad’s home? I smile at the thought of meeting his dad, but when Jordan continues talking, his words wipe the smile off my face.

“I was going to tell her, but … I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t find the words to start with.”

“The truth, Jordan. You start with the truth. I knew I should have come home the day I told you. It’s why I’ve come home today because you’ve been avoiding my calls. I knew there was something up.” A sigh. “I thought maybe you and Mia, had argued about it … I just didn’t want to believe you hadn’t told her because it’s not how I raised you. I know you really care about Mia, but you can’t just carry on with her, all the while keeping the truth from her. It’s not right. How do you think she’s going to feel when she finds out that you’ve known the truth about her mother for days and not told her?”

My heart stops dead in my chest, my stomach clenching in painful, sick inducing knots. I curl my fingers into my hand, digging my nails into the soft skin.

“Shit…” Jordan says, sounding like he’s in pain. “I’ve fucked up badly. I thought she wouldn’t forgive me before … she’ll never forgive me now. She knew – she knew something was up, and I just kept telling her everything was okay.”

“Do you want me to be with you when you tell her?”

“No.” Jordan sighs. “I’ll tell her alone. I don’t want to bulldoze her with the two of us. I’ll go speak to her now.” The determination in his voice, and his heavy footsteps across the floor, have me turning to run back down the stairs.

I know I have no chance of making it, but still I try.

I hear the door open and Jordan say, “Mia,” in a tone that can only be described as fearful. I have no choice but to turn around.

The fear in his voice matches the fear on his face, but it’s the look in his eyes that’s the worst. He looks hopeless. Like he’s about to lose everything. Or maybe it’s me that’s about to lose everything.

And the sick I was feeling worsens.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jordan

When I was fourteen years old, Maisy Richards kicked me in the nuts at Ben Castle’s birthday party because she’d given me a handjob in the hall closet, then caught me making out with Sophie Jenkins an hour later.

It literally feels like your testicles have exploded and the flying debris is obliterating your insides like a dirty bomb, leaving you feeling pain of the unimaginable kind.

Up until exactly thirty seconds ago, I’d believed that was the most painful thing I would ever feel.

I was wrong.

Because standing here, seeing the crumpled look of devastation on Mia’s face after telling her that her mother—the mother who left her behind to be raised by a father who repeatedly beat her—is, in fact, the woman who raised me.

“I-I don’t understand…” She stumbles back, her knee making contact with the office desk with a sickening thud.