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Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jordan

I lie in bed, staring at my ceiling and listening to the pitter patter of rain. My skin is still cold from the rain, my hair damp. There’s a chill to my bed. It’s always been there, but it’s been worse lately. Ever since Alex and I shared it.

It was a mistake. I knew it would be, yet I did it anyway.

I seem to be doing that a lot lately. Making mistakes with him. Doing things I shouldn’t. But that’s par for the course with us, isn’t it?

Sure, two times isn’t a lot in comparison to the time I’ve known him, but they were pretty big events, so they mean a lot.

Though there is no light on my bedroom ceiling, all I can see is that chandelier from the living room. It’s stupid, nothing but a light, but I keep thinking about it. I keep thinking about how when Alex is around, things in my life are better.

What would have happened if he never left me all those years ago? I was ready to try something with him then. Can’t I do that again now?

But what if he leaves me again…

That’s something we have never talked about, and I’m not sure he knows I’m even upset about it. Though, he should, because why the fuck did he just leave me like that?

Does it even matter?

Probably not. It’s in the past and though it still bothers me, it’s not something I’m holding against him.

I know why he left, and so I know it wasn’t about me or us.

It was about him. Alex chose to do something for himself.

How can I be mad at him for that? Especially when I was refusing to give him parts of me that he wanted.

I’m not stupid. I know there’s something here between Alex and me. Something neither of us talk about because I won’t talk about it and he knows me well enough to keep his mouth shut.

But what if…

I turn my head to face the living room. He’s right there, not far at all, lying on my couch. Sleeping maybe. Or maybe he’s awake just like I am, worrying about stupid life things because life sucks most times .

Most times.

Because it has been better lately. The last couple of weeks.

It’s the little things mostly, but they’re starting to add up now.

I feel it. I’m noticing them. It’s why I couldn’t sleep in the first place, and why I thought going for a drive would be a good idea.

I didn’t make it to the end of the driveway before she started acting up.

It’s a good thing I didn’t go much further, or I’d really have lost my mind.

I see no movement on the couch. Don’t hear anything either. It’s eerily quiet, outside of the rain that only seems to be getting stronger.

My attention goes back to the ceiling. Dark. Plain. Bare.

But that fucking chandelier.

Who buys someone a chandelier?

Alex Brewer. That’s who.

I hate how much sense it makes. I hate how much I like it.

I fucking hate how much he knows me. It pisses me right off that he can always read me, that he knows just how to push my buttons.

Alex isn’t just annoying because that’s who he is, he’s very deliberate with it.

He knows what buttons to push and when. Because he knows me… the same way I know him.

So what if…

I toss the blankets off me and get out of bed. I quietly make my way to the living room. It’s dark, nothing but the dim light from the TV, but even if it were pitch black, I’d know where to go.

The parts of me that have been fighting this attraction to Alex aren’t winning the way they used to. It used to be easy to ignore him. Now it’s a losing battle. Before I make it to the head of the couch, Alex speaks.

“Jordan? What’s wrong?”

He moves to sit up, but I put my hand on his chest, pushing him back as I settle a knee beside him.

Even in the dark, I see his wide, confused eyes. I see the way his throat bobs as he swallows, and I feel the way his heart starts to beat just a little harder beneath my palm.

“I need to see something,” I say softly.

It’s about time I make another mistake, right? My life has been boring as fuck these last seven years.

There is no hesitation, no pause. No second thought.

I lean down, pressing my lips to his. He flinches, but otherwise he doesn’t move. I press harder, then slide my tongue into his mouth to be met with his. After a second or two, he snaps out of his shock and kisses me back.

He tastes exactly as I remember. Feels exactly as I remember.

There’s something about kissing him that has always been different, felt better. I don’t know what it is. It’s just him. Whatever mix we make together, it’s good.

But I don’t want Alex to kiss me just because I’m kissing him.

I want him to kiss me because it’s what he wants.

I need to know that I’m what he wants, and that he’s willing to be patient with me while we figure this out.

Whatever the fuck this is. I don’t know how to make something of this; I don’t even know if I can.

But maybe this can be a start of that. The beginning of the beginning…

“What was that?” he breathes out when I pull back.

“Not really sure,” I answer honestly.

“Jordan…”

“We’ll talk in the morning.”

I stand up straight, watching him for a moment before heading back to my room.

“You expect me to go to sleep after that?” he calls out.

I huff out a laugh as I get back into my bed.

“Good night, Alex!”

He mutters something. The TV goes off. And I fall asleep.

My alarm goes off, waking me from a deep sleep. I groan, rubbing my gritty eyes.

It’s going to be a long fucking day. The only saving grace is that it’s Sunday, and I don’t have to go to work. Something I normally love, but when I’m tired like this, it sucks. Also, I find myself not hating being at home now that Alex is here .

Speaking of… I hear clanking around in the kitchen. He’s up bright and early today.

I get up and head that way, finding him digging around in the cabinet.

“You need help finding something?” I ask.

He jumps, banging his head and groaning. When he turns to look at me, he’s rubbing his head and frowning at me.

“I didn’t forget what you said last night,” he says accusingly.

“Uh… what?”

“About talking? Yeah, I remember. Thought about it all night. So you go take your morning shower while I make breakfast. When it’s done, we’re sitting at the table and talking.”

“Right…” I try to hide my smile.

“I’m serious, Jordan.”

His gaze is narrowed on me and his lips are pursed into a pissy frown, and fuck… he still looks damn cute when he’s mad. But telling him that would not be wise, so instead, I chuckle and say, “Okay, got it.”

My shower is quick, and by the time I’m dressed and heading back to the kitchen, there is a plate of scrambled eggs and toast on the table, beside a steaming mug of coffee. Alex walks over to the table, another plate and mug in hand, and takes a seat across from me.

“Eager,” I comment .

“Stressed,” he returns.

I did not expect this to turn into a thing… but this is Alex, so I guess I should have known.

My coffee is halfway to my mouth before he says, “I’m going to give you a chance to talk, but first, I need to say something.” His voice is solid. Serious.

I raise a brow, take a sip, and put my coffee down.

“Can I eat first?”

“Absolutely not.” He shakes his head.

I sigh, folding my hands together. Maybe it’s time I’m honest with him. Honest with myself too, I guess.

“Okay.” I motion for him to continue.

“Why?” He looks up from his plate, his green eyes pleading with me.

“Why what?” I ask.

“Why did you kiss me?” he asks. “And don’t give me some bullshit excuse, Jordan. Don’t tell me you don’t know. Please. Do not lie to me.”

There’s a sincerity in his voice that is so unlike him. It makes me sit up straighter.

“Because I needed to know the truth,” I say, stabbing my eggs and hoping he won’t complain about me eating. I’m starving. He purses his lips. “I needed to know that I wasn’t imagining this—” I motion between us. “Whatever this is.”

He scoffs.

“Whatever this is?” he bites out. “You can’t even say it.”

I drop my fork to my plate, not taking the bite.

“Because I don’t know what this is!” I say, feeling extremely defensive. This isn’t easy for me. Why can’t he understand that? “I just know how I feel. I know that no matter how hard I fucking try, I can’t seem to stop. And I don’t want to.”

He shakes his head as he bites into his toast.

“Heard that a million times,” he snaps, and the tired look on his face mixed with his words is like a gut punch.

This isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation.

And the realization makes me wonder how many times he’s had this conversation, and with how many different people.

That hits me harder than it should because I don’t know what’s really going on between us—if anything.

I don’t want to be another conversation in a long line of conversations with him.

I want to be more. I don’t know how much more, just… more.

His gaze softens as he looks back at me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.”

His eyebrows furrow and he looks away from me, but I can see the pain he tries to hide .

“I still don’t know what I want or what I’m asking, Alex, I just know that I don’t hate when you’re around and I definitely don’t hate sex with you.”

His tired gaze meets mine with a smirk.

“We haven’t even had sex yet, Jordan. Not really.”

He gets up, grabs his plate and mug and heads for the sink. I don’t think twice about following him, even though I’m far from finished.

“No, but I want to,” I say firmly. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Fucking hell,” he whines, tossing the dishes in the sink and running a hand through his hair.

“Alex, look at me,” I say.

It takes a moment, but he turns to face me. I’m acutely aware of how close I am to him. The light pours through the kitchen window and every other window he’s opened. I’ve never seen so much light in this place. It’s so bright, and surprisingly, I don’t hate it.

“Last night, I needed to know that what I felt all those years ago didn’t disappear. I needed to know that it was still here,” I explain, holding his gaze. “I needed to know it was still real.”

“Are you done?” he asks impatiently.

I’d be lying if I said that didn’t hurt.

He’s the one who wanted to have this conversation and now he’s mad that it’s not going how he wants? What the hell does he want me to do? Drop to my knee and propose?

“Yes,” I answer, standing tall. Alex takes one step closer to me, and something changes in his eyes.

“You wanted to know if this —” He points between us. “ —is real?” He holds my gaze. “If you still want me? If I still want you?”

I tense, hearing the seriousness in his voice. I can’t tell if he’s going to push me, bitch at me, or—

His hands find the back of my neck and before I can register what is happening, he crushes his mouth against mine, his hands keeping me from pulling away.

My hands find his hips and settle there, pulling him against me as he slides his tongue into my mouth.

I’ve kissed Alex a handful of times, but this feels different. It’s not hot or rushed or playful.

It’s deeper. Passionate.

His fingertips tease the edge of my hair as he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it before sliding his tongue back into my mouth.

Every bone in my body relaxes, except for one. He tastes like bitter coffee and buried memories, like bad decisions and promises I certainly can’t keep, and wouldn’t know how to even if I could.

He pulls away, his lips hovering inches away from mine. “Is that real enough for you? ”

His tongue flecks out to lick his lips and his fingers are playing with my hair and my hand is still on his hip.

Everything about this moment feels right.

It feels… comfortable. It’s not awkward.

I’m not trying to think of an excuse to get away.

I want to stay right here, with him, in this moment.

I want to hold onto this feeling, lock it away so I can come back to it whenever I’m feeling like shit.

It’s true that you don’t know what happiness is unless you’ve felt pain, and I guess the same goes for misery. I’ve been walking by in life for so long that I didn’t know any better, but when Alex is around… I’m different.

“It’s real,” I rasp out, fingers tightening on his waist. “Very fucking real.”

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say this?” he breathes. “How long I’ve wanted you ?”

That hits me right in the chest. Because no, not really. Alex fucks around with a lot of people. That’s always been his thing. I didn’t realize that hearing this from me was something he wanted.

“It’s still here,” I add.

He breathes out a sigh of relief. “It is. You feel it, too, right? Please fucking tell me you do.” I hold his gaze, not saying a word. “Jordan,” he snaps.

I can’t help but huff out a laugh. “You’re too easy to fuck with.”

He rolls his eyes .

“What do you want, Jordan?” he asks softly, face going serious again as his fingers brush along the back of my neck, causing goosebumps. “What do you want from me?”

I let out a sigh.

“I don’t know,” I answer, and he closes his eyes. I grab his throat, my thumb pressed against his jaw, tilting it up to meet my gaze. He holds it steadily. “But maybe you can help me figure that out.”

His hand settles over the back of mine, but he doesn’t push me away.

There’s a long pause as his thumb trails over the underside of my wrist. I can’t be sure what’s going through his mind.

He looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it.

All I can do is focus on his touch and the way he’s looking at me.

His green eyes glisten in the bright light and he nods.

“Okay,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

And that’s when the reality sets in. I have no idea what the fuck I just agreed to, what I just got myself into, but I’m ready for it.