When I See You (38 page)

"It's those silences of yours. You're just like your dad in that way."

"I told you; it's the training."

"I think it's genetic."

"I'll show you genetic," Brock says.

He moves with lightning speed and suddenly I'm underneath him and he's probing between my thighs with his hands. His erection explores the willing space between my legs and I let him in because, right now, he's the only connection I have left in this world. And, I need this.

He's an exquisite lover. And, I take the reprieve of being with him, once again. After we finish, Brock seems troubled. He gets this pensive look.

"What?" I finally ask.

"I don't know. Am I going to be enough for you?"

"Enough for me?"

"Yeah," Brock says slowly. "I know I'm not perfect, but, as long as we're clear."

"Clear about what?"

I sit up and the sheet falls off of me exposing my breasts. Brock bends and encircles one with his mouth. I momentarily lose my train of thought, but not for long.

"Clear about what?" I say again, trying to catch my breath.

"I want you. I need you in my life, Jordan."

"I live in L.A. How's that going to work?"

"I don't know, yet. There will be some changes to be dealt with because of the way my father set up his estate. We just went over his will, six months ago. He had it set up, so we'd share equally in the ranch, the oil company—Diana, Tate, and me. Mom will still live at the ranch house and we'll take care of her. That's the way he wanted it, ensuring Mom was taken care of, but he wanted us to have the money, the responsibility for everything else. I'll have to deal with all of it. It's a lot of money. It will take care of the Lazy J."

I don't need your help with my share."

"Jordan, you're not listening to me. I want you in my life."

I take an unsteady breath. "It's not that simple."

"What's not simple about it? I need you. You need me. I know you do."

"I don't want to talk about this, right now."

I throw back the covers and stalk away from him to the bathroom. I turn on the shower and stand under it.

I'm at the edge all of a sudden.

The abyss is right there.

Max. I've lost Max.

The aching sobs force their way out. I cannot hold them back any longer.

Seconds later, Brock is there. He holds me and wipes at my tears.

"Baby, it's going to be okay. It is. I know it's bad, but I'm here."

"Don't you ever leave me." I bury my face into his chest.

"I won't. I promise."

He kisses my face, my neck, and my tears. I wind my arms around him and pull him close. He hesitates and stares into my face for a few long seconds.

"Promise?" I ask again.

"Promise."

*≈*≈*

Chapter 23. Soul meets body

Brock

I promise her something I can't keep. Our time together is unceremoniously interrupted by the arrival of Tate and Ashleigh. They look like we do, as if they too spent the night fucking, in an attempt to put the tragic events of my father and Max farthest from their minds. Jordan rushes around, making coffee and breakfast, somehow insulated from reality. I watch her in fascination and with this strange sense of foreboding, wondering how long it will be before she crashes back to earth and actually begins to deal with the certainty of Max's death. Other than the crying jag in the shower, which lasted a mere five minutes, I haven't seen her cry. She chats on the phone with my mother and sister and fully immerses herself in the planning of my father's funeral.

I glance over at Ashleigh. She shrugs as we exchange concerned looks.

"This is what she does," Ashleigh whispers at one point when Jordan leaves the room.

The rest of us are all a little on edge. Who wouldn't be? But Jordan? Jordan doesn't even appear to actually be here any longer.

Within hours, the Lazy J quickly becomes the main gathering place for mourners. My mother easily falls into Jordan's plans to hold a reception for my dad here after his funeral.

Jordan cannot be talked into a service for Max. I have to admire the way she even stands up to Ethan's parents regarding this wish. Her reasons are simple enough, and I attempt to understand them and support her.

"All I want is a bottle of Jagermeister and a few quiet moments with my circle of friends where we talk about Max's favorite things and guzzle a few shots," she says. "I just did a funeral for a loved one. I'm tired of doing these events for everyone else's feelings, but my own. I don't want a service for Max. I want to remember him laughing and playing. I don't want to put on some morbid service where we talk about him in the past tense."

Even my mother gives up talking her out of these simple arrangements.

Jordan and Ashleigh's friend, Liz, and her boyfriend, Adrian, arrive. I like them both immediately. They have the whole L.A. success thing going on, but they're easy to talk to and forthright. They stay with us at the Lazy J as well. The house is large enough to accommodate all of us and still allow for privacy, just the way Ethan, Tate, and I envisioned.

Jordan seems to be in her element, doing all the planning and the cooking. During the day, she appears somewhat intent on avoiding me now. She's buried her grief over Max so deep down that it's hard to detect. But, late at night, when I hold her in my arms she still trembles in her sleep, and sometimes, she wakes up screaming his name. I know she's dealing with it all deep inside. I just wish she would let me in. She refuses to talk about our future, and I fail to mention my upcoming return to Afghanistan.

Guilt-ridden, I'm breaking my promise to her about never leaving her already. And, although I don't know her nearly well enough to accurately predict her reaction, I can already guess as to what she'll say.

≈ ≈

It's been four days since Max's and my father's untimely deaths. The church is packed with mourners, and I marvel at my mother's ability to put it all together in such a short period of time. The tribute to my dad is incredible. We all take our turns, saying a few words. I reach down from this faraway place and deliver a nice speech about how great he was and how I aspired to be like him. Truthfully? I'm unaware of exactly what I've said.

After I finish, I slide in next to Jordan. She squeezes my hand and tells me it was good.

There are dark shadows under her eyes. I know she's not sleeping well because I'm right next to her, watching her silently suffer over the loss of Max in the dead calm of night.

The sense that our relationship is fragile and new terrifies me. It's only a matter of time before she knows that I'm leaving for Afghanistan.

A part of me feels somewhat relieved at this because the intensity of our relationship is beginning to wear me out. Maybe, time away will be a good thing for both of us. It will give us a chance to achieve some kind of balance and be completely separate from one another. Right now, we're so connected in sharing the grief over Max and my father that I can't remember how it feels to be away from her.

I've never felt like this before. I've never loved anyone this much, not even Annie. We were young, barely twenty, with our lives ahead of us. We were barely grown up. We hadn't explored the depths of love, yet.

Jordan is different in every way from Annie. I know I love her for it, but I do wonder if I can meet her expectations in the long term. I'm not Ethan. I'm not sure I can give her what she wants, what she needs. I love her so much, but at the same time, I've never felt more terrified and out of control in my life.

It's unfair that I haven't told her about my return to Afghanistan. Only Tate knows, and, he's been sworn to secrecy. He's already read me the riot act for agreeing to go back. I've been waiting for the final orders and the right time to tell Jordan. So far, the time has never been right.

≈ ≈

Back at the Lazy J, the main house accommodates the staggering number of two hundred people who have all come to pay their respects to my father. Jordan is busy playing hostess, ensuring there's enough food and drink for everyone. I wallow on the sidelines, engulfed in misery and grief, unable to compartmentalize either one very well. I pour myself another whiskey and attempt to stay out of the general conversation all around me.

I reach in my pocket to check for my cell phone, only to discover it isn't there. I wander over to Jordan.

"Have you seen my cell phone?"

"No. Did you check the bedroom?" She blushes as she says this. I give her a knowing look and study her face intently.

"No. I guess I'd better. I can't believe I left it behind."

She reaches up and strokes my face. "You okay?"

"Yeah. It's hard. Harder than I thought it would be."

She nods. "See why I didn't want to do this with Max?"

She stutters on his name, shrugs her shoulders, and then tries to covertly wipe away a stray tear with the back of her hand. In the next second, Tate waves me over from the other side of the room. She follows my gaze.

"Go see what Tate wants. I've got to go get some more champagne. I'll check for your phone."

"Okay. Don't be long."

Our fingers linger, still touching, and then, she slips away from me.

There's so many things that I should tell her. I'm just not sure where to begin. I take another swig of the whiskey and feel it burn my throat all the way down. I saunter over to Tate and answer a few questions for the people from our high school days standing with him. The I'm-so-sorry- for-your-loss statements are getting old fast. I don't know how to deal with the grief on my own, let alone how to respond in social gatherings to these well-intended condolences.

I decide to go after Jordan, so I can finally tell her how I feel about her, about everything, because there are too many things that have been left unsaid between us the past four days. But the whiskey and the perfunctory conversation slow me down. I'm a good five minutes behind her now. I glance down the hall where Jordan's disappeared and resume my mission to get to her with a quick goodbye and a promise to keep in touch better to the guests Tate's entertaining.

Urgency starts to set in.
She's going to retrieve my phone.
Kate's supposed to let me know about the final orders for Afghanistan and text me my itinerary.

I race towards my place now, yank the door open, and run down the long hallway towards the bedroom.

She's standing there, holding my phone.

"You're going back?" There's recognizable terror in her voice.

I shudder. "Yes."

"It's says you're leaving Sunday. The day after tomorrow for Dulles, and then on to Afghanistan. The text is from Kate." She practically spits the words at me. "You promised. You promised you'd never leave me. And yet, you are," she whispers in disbelief. "You
will
."

"It's not like that. I made those plans before we—right after my dad died. I asked Kate to get me back in."

"It can't be undone," she says dully.

"No."

I take a deep breath.

"I wanted to tell you, to tell you all of it, about Annie, about Afghanistan, about
you
. I want to tell you
why.
"

"I know about Annie. Ashleigh told me what Tate told her."

"I want to tell you
why
. Tell you all of it."

"No. It doesn't matter." She holds her hands up out in front of her, as if to hold me off. "What's left to say? You're broken.
I get it
. I even understand it. You say you do it to serve, to be a hero, but I know better. You taunt and play with death every day because you fucking
enjoy
it." She laughs bitterly. "Well, I don't fucking
care
why you're there, Brock."

Fear takes hold.

"Don't do this to us. Please, Jordan. Listen to me."

"Don't do this to
us
?
You
did this to
us
. You did this. I thought you understood. I put myself out there for you. I told you I loved you—"

"No! You didn't! You never have. And now, you want to put all of this on me? You never really told me how you feel."

"I
showed
you how I feel about you. No. This is on you. I've lost everyone.
Everyone
!" She begins pacing. "I can't lose anyone else. I can't. I can't do this, Brock. I can't wait for you to return from that God-forsaken place."

She stops.

"I can't wait for you. I
won't
wait for you."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, I'm going back to L.A." She gets this sad smile. "Good luck with your tour, Lieutenant. Good luck with your life."

Dazed, I follow her out. I reach for her, but she angrily pulls out of my grasp and races up the hallway away from me.