Trouble (33 page)

Why is he here? Who called him? Did Mia ask for him – did she ask them to call him?

Pain lances through me, quickly morphing to rage and despair and frustration.

Forbes turns his head in my direction. He sees me staring.

My fists tighten at my sides.

He gives me an odd look, then looks away, but he knows I’m still staring at him, so he looks back.

“Can I help you?” he asks with a smug look on his fuck ugly face.

I take a step toward him. “You’re Forbes?”

“Yeah. I am. Who’s ask—?”

He never finishes that sentence.

Because I punch him in the face. Hard.

He goes down from that one hit. Pussy. But I’m not stopping there. I’m on him, on the ground, punching him repeatedly over and over, and I can’t fucking stop.

Because all I can see is Mia’s black eye.

Him trying to rape her.

Her forcing herself to be sick. Passed out on that bathroom floor.

Me loving her. Wanting her.

Just pain. Fucking pain.

It’s endless, relentless. And I just keep plowing my fist into his face, trying to rid myself of it.

I don’t know if I’d have ever stopped, or if I’d have kept going until I killed him, but I don’t get the chance to find out because I’m pulled off him by Dad and the hospital security staff.

It takes three of them to get me off him. That’s how far gone I am.

“What the fuck!” he splutters through the blood in his mouth. “Are you insane? You’ve broken my nose!”

“That’s the least of your worries,” I growl. “You go near Mia ever again, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you!”

He stills. Just a moment. Hands covering his bleeding nose, his eyes meet mine. Something in them moves. I don’t know what it is, but I sure as hell don’t like it.

Then his hand drops. And he smirks. “Mia’s suckered you in good and proper.” He lets out a clipped, bloody laugh. “She’s good at that … playing the victim. And I’ll take it from the look on your face that you’ve been fucking her. Sorry to tell you this, but you’re not the first, won’t be the last.”

“You’re a fuckin’ liar!” I launch myself at him again, but I’m still being held by Dad and the burly guards, so I get nowhere.

“Let. Me. Fucking. Go!” I yell, trying to fight them off me.

“Calm the hell down!” Dad hisses in my ear. “Keep going like this, and they’ll call the cops if they haven’t already. Then they’ll throw your ass in jail, and you won’t be able to help Mia from there.”

The instant his words hit, hearing her name in that context, I start to slow down. “Okay.” I’m breathing hard. “Okay … you can let me go. I won’t hit him again.” I pin him with my eyes. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Jordan,” Dad scolds.

“What in the world is going on here?” I turn my head to see Dr. Packard walking toward us. Her eyes flick to Forbes, then back to me. She does not look happy.

“Dr. Packard, this man just attacked this gentleman here for no good reason.” This comes from the receptionist, who is still looking a little shocked by the whole thing.

“No good reason my ass!” I yell. “This motherfucker is the reason Mia is in here!”

“I haven’t seen Mia in two weeks—”

“Yeah, and why is that?” I take a step toward him. Dad’s arm comes in front of me, stopping me.

“Jordan,” Dr. Packard says. “You assaulted this gentleman?”

I scoff at the term. “Yeah, and I’d do it again – with pleasure.”

She turns to Forbes. “Mr.…?”

“Chandler.” Blood is still running down his ugly face and onto his pristine hundred dollar shirt.

“Mr. Chandler, I’ll get a nurse to clean you up. Do you want us to call the police to report this attack?”

His eyes drift to me.

“Do it.” I step forward, pushing against Dad’s arm that’s still pinned across my chest. “I’ll happily do a stretch. And while I’m with the cops, I’ll tell them
exactly
what you did to Mia.”

His eyes flash with fear.

Yeah, I know what you did, motherfucker.

“No.” He clears his throat, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “I don’t want to press charges. I don’t need the hassle. Just keep that psycho away from me.”

“Nurse Callaghan, can you tend to Mr. Chandler, please,” Dr. Packard calls to a nurse.

“Of course.” The nurse comes over and leads him off down the hall.

I keep my eyes pinned to his back the whole way.

Dr. Packard stands in front of me, blocking my view. “I don’t know what that was about,” she says in a lowered voice. “But if you
ever
behave that way in my hospital again, I’ll call the cops myself, and you’ll
never
get through the door again. Do you understand?”

I exhale. “Yeah, I understand.”

“Good. Because Mia is awake, and she’s asking to see you.”

My head snaps up.

“She is?”

“Yes, so you best come with me now.” She starts to walk away.

I look at Dad.

“I’ll wait out here,” he says.

I mouth thanks to him. He gives me an encouraging smile.

I catch up to Dr. Packard. “How is she doing?”

She looks across at me. “Better. She’s been talking.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “That’s good.”

“Yes, it is. Funny thing though, when I said to Mia that her step-brother was waiting to see her, she told me she doesn’t have a step-brother. That she doesn’t have any family actually.” She slides a look at me.

I smile sheepishly. “It’s complicated.” I shrug.

“Life always is.” She stops near a door. “Mia’s in here. Now, Jordan, I’ve spoken at length with Mia regarding the concerns I have about her problem, and I feel it’s best if you don’t mention anything.”

“You mean don’t tell her I know about the bulimia.”

“Exactly. Let her tell you – I’m sure she will. She’s very aware of her problem, but she’s also had a massive shock to bring about this realization. It’s an upsetting subject for her. I don’t want her upset any more than she already has been.”

I nod. “I hear you, doc. I’ll do whatever it takes to help her.”

She smiles. “Yes, I can see that.”

I turn to the door.

“Jordan.”

I look over my shoulder at her.

“You might want to clean the blood off your hands before you go in.”

I glance down at my hands. I’ve got that fuckers blood all over them. “Shit, yeah.”

She pulls a handkerchief from her pocket, then walks over to the water dispenser a little farther down the hall. Pressing the tap, she wets the handkerchief underneath, then brings back to me.

“Thanks.” Taking it, I scrub the blood from my knuckles, then offer it back to her.

“I’m good.” She holds her hand up, smiling. “Keep it.”

I let out a small laugh. “Thanks.” I shove the handkerchief into my pocket. Then taking a deep breath, I push the door to Mia’s room open.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mia

One look at Jordan and I know.

I can’t be with him anymore.

Not because I don’t love him, I do, but all I see when I look at him is my mother’s betrayal. She chose to raise him, not me.

It hurts to be near him.

I don’t want to end up resenting Jordan for everything he had, everything that should have been mine. This isn’t his fault – what my so called mother did wasn’t his fault. My rational side knows this, but it doesn’t change the way I feel. She wanted him. Not me.

I can understand why. He’s such a beautiful, amazing person. He shines so bright. He is so much more than me.

And he deserves better than I can ever give.

He deserves better than I am.

I’m broken. Damaged.

Dr. Packard thinks I’m repairable. I’m not so sure about that. Look at me – where I am right now. What I’ve done to myself.

I’ve hit bottom. Now, I need to figure out if I can ever climb back up, but I have to do that without Jordan.

“Hey.” He closes the door behind him.

“Hi.”

I can barely bring myself to look at him. It hurts, knowing that this will be the last time I’ll see him.

I’ve known him such a short time, but the time feels irrelevant. It’s as if I’ve known him always. And never seeing him again will be the hardest thing I’ll ever do. Harder than living through Oliver. Harder than getting away from Forbes. Harder than combating my illness.

Jordan takes the seat by my bed. The seat Dr. Packard recently vacated, after spending a good hour talking to me about my illness. I didn’t go to in depth about my issue with food, but it was hard to avoid the bulimia conversation as being a medical professional, she knew. I tried to deny it at first, but the signs were all there for her to read.

After I confessed to her – the first person I have ever told – and how long I’ve been eating and purging—ten years—she went on to tell me everything I already knew, about the damage I’m doing to my body, the health risks – liver or kidney failure … possibly death.

You’d think already knowing these things would have stopped me a long time ago, but I didn’t want to think of those things. I just wanted the pain to stop, and for a long time it helped. And maybe, deep down, I did want to die.

But after being in here, talking with Dr. Packard … but mainly from knowing Jordan and my time with him, I’ve realized that what I want is to live and be happy.

And to do that, I need help.

Dr. Packard told me of a specialized clinic that can help me, and that she would refer me to them, but for the treatment to work, I have to want it – I have to want to get better.

And I do. I’m ready to get better. I
need
to get better.

Dr. Packard is calling the clinic now to see if they have a place for me, so all that’s left for me to do is tell Jordan that I’m leaving.

“How are you doing?” he asks, his voice soft.

“I’m okay.” I glance at him. His eyes are on my face, deep and dark and searching.

It hurts so badly to look at him. Each time I do, I’m confused by the love I feel for him and the past he represents. The past that should have been mine.

Looking down, my fingers trace patterns over the comforter. “Jordan … I need to apologize for how you found me in that motel room.”

“I’m gonna stop right you there. You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I’m just relieved that I did find you and that you’re okay.” His fingers rub at his chest. “I’m the one who has
everything
to apologize for, babe. You wouldn’t have gone there … been alone if it weren’t for me keeping…” He runs his hand through his dark hair, blowing out a breath. “God, I’m just so fuckin’ sorry that I didn’t tell you about my mom—” He stops short.

His mom.
He’s right, she was his mom.

His eyes flash to mine. They’re filled with apologies, and sorrow. He feels sorry for me. Pity.

I hate pity.

“I just…” He exhales. “I should have told you the moment I found out that Belle was Anna …
your
mother,” he highlights this, his voice deep and low with meaning.

I turn my head and stare out the window. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yeah, it does. And I want you to know I’m sorry … for everything. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I would never do anything to hurt you. I was just afraid to tell you. That if I did, I’d lose you.” He slides his fingers over my hand.

“Don’t.” I pull my hand away.

I have to shield my heart from the look of hurt on his face.

The silence between us is blistering.

He scrubs his hands over his face. “Have I lost you?” His words are so quiet, but they hurt with the intensity of a scream.

I close my eyes on the tears burning them. “I’m sorry, Jordan.”

“Jesus…” He shakes his head. “Just tell me one thing – is it because I kept it from you, or because of Belle?”

“It’s not because of you, it’s because of me—”

“Don’t give me the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ bullshit!” He stands, moving away from the bed.

He’s angry. Anger I can work with. Anger I understand.

“Just give me the truth, Mia. You might not think I deserve it, but it’s all I’m asking of you.”

My eyes snap to him. “Fine.” I sit up on my haunches. “You want the truth? The truth is every single time I look at your face, I see everything I never had – what
she
should have given me, but instead chose to give to
you
. Do I blame you for that? No. But it doesn’t change the fact that the woman who gave birth to me—who was supposed to be my mother—chose to be yours. She left me with him!” My voice is getting louder, and my hands are shaking, but I can’t seem to stop. “And I hate the way that makes me feel – knowing that she chose you over me!”

“She didn’t choose me!” He bangs his hand against his chest. “
I
wasn’t anything to do with her decision – you need to hear me out, so you can understand—”

“No!” I press my hands to my head. “I can’t hear anymore!” I know what I feel is irrational, but I can’t think straight in this moment. All I can do is
feel
– and I feel irrational.

“I hate this! I hate everything! I hate me!” I’m crying now.

Jordan crosses the room in a few strides and pulls me into his arms.

The feel of him…

His heat and strength…

I curl my fingers into his shirt. “Everything’s a mess. I’m a mess.” I sniffle, pulling away, unable to be this close to him knowing that I’m leaving.

Not willing to let me go, he takes my face in his hands.

“You’re not a mess.” He sweeps his thumbs over my cheeks, drying my tears. “Just talk to me, babe. Let me help you.”

A crushing feeling in my chest takes my breath with it. “After everything I just said to you … you still want to help me. Why?”

His grip on my face increases. His eyes darkening. “Because I fuckin’ love you, Mia.” His eyes close, almost as if he’s in pain.

He loves me.

Jordan rests his forehead against mine, his hand sliding around to cup the back of my neck.