Page 82 of Jordan

Two numbers, just like he said.

Matteo.

Vincenzo.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. My finger presses down on my father’s name, and I tap the phone button because there is only one way I’m going to get these questions answered.

How will I know if my father is telling me the truth?

Well, I think I’ll just know.

My chest constricts as I bring the cell phone to my ear. It rings once. Twice. Thr—

“Hello?”

I don’t say anything right away. My voice literally won’t work.

“Hello?” he repeats, this time more harshly.

“Daddy?”

He’s quiet for a beat. “Jordan?” he whispers. “Jordan, is that you?”

“It’s me,” I say in a small voice, fighting back tears.

“Sweetheart, how are you—does Enzo know you’re calling?”

“He does,” I say, this time with a stronger voice. “He gave me a phone to call you.”

He sighs a relieving sound. “How are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m okay.”

“He isn’t hurting you, right?”

That shouldn’t annoy me, but it does. He cares enough now that I’m calling, but not enough to make sure it wouldn’t happen beforehand? If he thought there was any chance Enzo would hurt me, why would he make the deal?

“No, nothing like that.”

“Good,” he says. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

“I miss you,” I tell him.

“I miss you too, sweetheart.”

I want to ask the question burning on my tongue, but my stomach? My stomach is going nuts. Almost like it knows something I don’t.

Even if I don’t like the answer, I need to know. I need the truth. The fact of the matter is, I am stuck here. And the only way I’m ever going to come to terms with it is by letting go of all this stuff holding me down and holding me back. If I get every bit of truth now, I can work through it and move forward.

I need answers.

“I need you to do me a favor,” I say, licking my lips and adjusting the phone in my grip.

“Anything, Jordan. Anything at all.”

“I need you to tell me why I’m here.”

“What?” He sounds shocked. Like maybe he thought I would ask for money or to bring me over a shirt that was forgotten at home.