Page 18 of Jordan’s Breakthrough (Unexpected Love #3)

MILES

J ordan sent me some of his writing?

I sit up, clutching the phone as I read every hand-written line slowly and carefully.

Then I read it again.

At first, it sounds like a moody fragment of a forgotten tale, something abstract and poetic, which is exactly what I would expect from Jordan. But the more I read it, the more I hear the deeper message.

Charlie stood at the edge of an impossible divide, miles laid out before him. Fractures of light glittered against the jagged rock—a warning and a beckoning. He had a choice to make, but a deadly one. One wrong move, one slip, and he would be lost to eternal darkness.

I can feel it in my chest—this isn’t about some sci-fi character in some half-formed story.

It’s about him. About us. That impossible divide?

That isn’t metaphorical. It’s the vast distance between San Diego and Salt Lake City.

It’s his depression. How he doesn’t believe it’ll work or if he can handle a trip to see me.

He’d even used my name. Miles. Not distance. Not terrain. Miles. As if I’m the one laid out on the other side, beckoning him… and he wants to go.

Fractures of light are words of hope, yet they’re clouded in his uncertainty.

I touch my lips, overwhelmed. I want to cry at these words. That’s my Jordan, fighting with himself without even realizing it.

Does he really think this is useless? Just a scrap piece of writing?

No. God, no. This is a scream from the depths of his soul.

He’s telling me, without telling me, that he wants to be with me, but is too afraid to take the first move.

He wants to change, but he’s so damn scared of falling back into that darkness.

And I get it. I really do. One wrong move, one slip, and he thinks he will disappear into nothingness. He’d hinted at being suicidal in his past. If that’s true, I wouldn’t blame him for being afraid now.

I read it three more times, crying. I’m such a jerk. I’d told him I’d wait for him, yet Jordan knew he might never be ready to come to me. He wants to, but he can’t. Which means I need to go to him.

I can’t do that without first coming up with a plan.

Can I even take time off? I’ve never tried outside of scheduling a week or two between rotations.

Maybe I don’t need to take time off, though.

Maybe I just need a couple of days. I can fly down after work, take a red eye, then arrive on his doorstep and—okay, no.

That’s stupid. I’d be dead on my feet by the time I got there, and what kind of first impression would that make? He’d definitely tuck tail and run.

Besides, I don’t even know where he lives. But I do know where he works. I’ve peeked at his profile enough to know the name of his bar. It’s the only public post he’s shared.

If I can get a ride from the airport, I can just go there, right? Meet him at work? Except, that means meeting Jordan in front of everyone he cares about too . In front of all of his friends and coworkers. Would he want that? Do I want that?

Oh, screw it. I don’t care. I’m probably going to meet his friends at some point anyway, if this goes well. If it doesn’t, well… I’ll catch an early flight back here.

Maybe I can talk Ana into taking my shift this Saturday. That could work, couldn’t it? Gives us a few days. It’s not ideal, but it would be less intimidating. Because Jordan isn’t the only one who’s scared about meeting in person. I am too. For different reasons, but I am scared.

When I get to work that afternoon, I go straight to Ruth’s room without stopping at the locker room. Something tells me I’m out of time to give her the gift.

The light is on, and someone pulled the privacy curtains open, exposing her room through the tall glass panels.

I stop in my tracks when I see a team of doctors standing around her bed.

But to my relief, they seem happy. Dr. Mullins, Dr. Nelson, and Dr. Springsteen are smiling and nodding at her, and Ruth is smiling too. Bigger than I’ve ever seen.

As I get closer to the door, I notice a middle-aged woman dressed in plain clothes standing in a corner. She has dark brown hair, glasses, and a petite frame. She looks slightly terrified to be there.

I slip in through the door but quietly stand to the side, not wanting to be in the way.

“…yes, everything checks out and you’re free to go,” Dr. Nelson says. “Do you have a ride home?”

The middle-aged woman takes a tentative step closer. “Y-yes. She does. I’ll drive her.”

When they all seem confused, the woman adds, “I’m Cora. Ruth’s daughter.”

Warmth spreads through me. Ruth called her, then. Good for her.

“Okay. Good.” Dr. Nelson touches Ruth’s shoulder briefly. “Take care, Ruth. We don’t want to see you back here any time soon. Make sure to go to those follow-up appointments.”

“I will. Thank you.”

When they all turn to leave, Dr. Mullins frowns at me, then slips by without a word. Whatever. He can judge me for getting attached to patients if he wants to. At least I care.

I step closer to Ruth. “Look at you! You look even better than you did yesterday.”

She tugs at the blanket in her lap. “This is Miles, one of my nurses,” she explains to Cora.

Cora smiles weakly.

“And did I hear Ruth correctly? You’re her daughter?”

Cora nods, wringing her hands.

I touch Ruth’s arm, telling her without words just how proud I am that she made that call. It couldn’t have been easy.

She’s sitting taller, like a weight was lifted off her shoulders. Even her hair looks healthier. Cleaner. She must have finally taken a shower.

I lean over to hug her from the side. “I’m glad I saw you before you left. I made something for you.”

I pull the stuffed animal out from under my sweatshirt and offer it to her.

Ruth blinks in surprise before taking it with her wrinkled hands.

“You made this?” she asks, turning it over.

“Mm-hmm. I crochet, remember? I couldn’t resist making you something.”

I’d stayed up until nearly 4 a.m. just to finish it.

Jordan kept me company to the very end. It turned out bigger than I imagined, with red, purple, and white markings on an ivory body.

I used large black glass beads for the eyes and added a few sequins on the wings for extra pizazz.

Ruth seems like someone who loves some sparkle.

When she realizes the feet are bendable, I say, “Oh, I added pipe cleaner, so you can form them. Just for fun.”

She shakes her head, staring at the stitched fabric in her hands. “Why?”

I realize she isn’t asking about the pipe cleaner. “I just thought a night owl like you might need some company when you get out of here.”

Ruth touches every delicate detail. “Thank you, Miles. You’ve been so good to me.”

I hug her again. “Of course. I’ll miss talking to you, so if I don’t see you again, take care of yourself, okay?”

She nods, eyes glistening.

I pat her arm one more time before turning to walk away. My eyes burn, but I force the tears back. At least I got to say goodbye. Too often, I don’t.

When I reach the nurse’s station, I keep my back to Ruth’s room, needing a minute.

Ana looks up from the tablet and gives me a small smile. “Aww, sweetie. Don’t be sad. She’s doing well.”

“I know. I just hate goodbyes.”

Her expression softens. “Yeah, I’ve had some painful ones too. Remember the little boy in Seattle two years ago? I still think about him.”

“Kids are the hardest.”

“They really are.”

After quickly wiping my face, I walk around the desk and sink into the chair, twirling it around to see her. This is the perfect opportunity to ask her about this weekend, since we’re the only ones here.

“So, Ana. My sweet, dearest, most beautiful Ana. I have a question for you.”

She arches a brow. “I might have an answer.”

I resist the urge to fidget. How do I explain this? “There’s this guy,” I begin.

Ana whips her chair toward me, leaning in with a playful smirk. “Go on.”

I chuckle. “I met him online, and we’re… close. But he lives in San Diego.”

“Boyfriend close, or…?”

My cheeks heat. “He might be. I don’t really know yet. Anyway, I’m thinking of going to see him for the weekend. But I need your help.”

“How so?”

“Can you take my shift on Saturday? It’ll give me one more night with him. And I’ll return the favor when I get back, I promise."

Ana considers it for all of two seconds. “Fine. But I’m going to take you up on the offer. You’ll owe me.”

“Oh, and can you watch Lily?” She would be fine for one night on her own, but not three.

She sighs. “Yeah. Anything for love, I guess.”

I jump up to hug her. “Thank you!”

Decision officially made and plans set. Now I just need to get through the next two days without losing my mind.

What was I thinking?

This is crazy, right? To fly across three states to meet a guy I’ve only talked to online?

My heart is hammering as I stare at the entrance of Graham’s Bar. It’s definitely the right place. The Lyft driver had gone on and on about how he and his girlfriend love the bar, and how Declan makes him feel right at home.

Declan. As in, Jordan’s friend, from his chosen family!

It’s also exactly as the internet showed, with flashy neon lights and a brick exterior. Three tinted windows make it impossible to see in, but music pours out from the doors whenever someone passes through.

Jordan said they were busy on Saturdays, but dammit. I’m starting to think this wasn’t a good idea. He might not even be able to talk to me.

A group of people walk toward the door from the parking lot, jostling me as I stand in place. My shoulders ache from the weight of my backpack, and the item in my hand is starting to get heavy. Who brings a plant to a bar?

Doubt floods me. This is stupid. This is so monumentally stupid! He’s going to think I’m a loser.

I tug at my shirt again, sweat beading on my brows.

“Hey, Seth, did you hear about the new dirt biking group?” a voice says from close by. I turn to see two men walking toward me, heads low as they talk.

“Yeah, I did. Are you and Pete going to join?”

“We’re thinking about it. They only meet twice a month, so it shouldn’t be too bad. Pete’s just worried it’ll be too hard on his knees.”

The blond guy laughs. “I feel that. Getting old sucks. But count me in if you do.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. You got me hooked on those trails.”

The other guy beams. “Glad to hear it.”

Seth? As in, Declan’s Seth?

As they get closer, I get jostled back a few more steps by another group. The men both pause in front of me, and the blond one frowns. “Can I get the door for you?”

It takes a moment to realize I’m blocking one door. Shit.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

The moment I step inside, I almost turn around and walk right back out, my heart leaping straight to my throat. It’s instantly overwhelming. People are laughing, shouting over music. Glasses are clinking, chairs scraping on the wood floor.

Seth and his friend disappear into the crowd while I hover by the door, trying to make myself smaller.

I’m so out of place in the modern room, feeling like an awkward cousin who took a wrong turn from a wedding rehearsal dinner or something.

Why did I think a polo was the right choice?

It’s scratchy across the chest and too tight around the middle.

I should’ve worn something else. Something… I don’t know. Sexy?

I should’ve messaged Jordan first. Given him a heads up. He’s going to hate me for coming on a busy night.

I scan the crowd, my eyes skipping over strangers.

For one monumental, dizzying moment, my emotions get the better of me and panic rises in my throat.

What if this is a mistake? What if I read too much into that message and Jordan doesn’t want to meet me?

What if he isn’t even here? What if he lied to me—

Charlie stood at the edge of an impossible divide…

Right. I didn’t come all this way for me. Jordan needs me to do this for him. For us. I need to give this a chance.

I don’t know what I expected exactly. Some quiet, gentle moment, maybe? A miracle of timing where the room would clear and Jordan would see me, like something out of a movie? That’s ridiculous. It’s never going to happen.

I shift my weight, trying to breathe through the noise.

My palms are sweaty, making the potted plant slip a little in my grasp.

I imagine it crashing to the hardwood floor, my heart sinking as all heads turn in my direction.

Wouldn’t that be a dramatic hello? Hey, handsome. Here’s a plant you can’t take home now!

I tighten my grip. You can do this, Miles.

Looking around the room again, I spy the bar on the opposite side and walk closer.

Then I freeze. Two women step away from the bar, martini glasses in hand, and that’s when I see him .

Jordan is even more breathtaking in person, wearing a dark green T-shirt and jeans. He’s tied his wavy dark hair back at the nape, and he’s wearing that leather necklace again. I immediately want to hug him, the beautiful, soulful man.

He snags a towel from his shoulder and wipes down the counter. His eyes are downcast, shoulders tense, and even from this distance, I can tell he’d rather be somewhere else. He looks tired—too tired. Like someone who is holding up a wall. Or the world.

My heart aches. Oh, hon.

The bartender to his right calls to him, and Jordan tips his head, smiling. But it’s not his real smile. I know that smile, and this wasn’t it. He’s forcing it, wearing a mask just to get by.

I move slowly, feeling slightly more confident in my decision now that I’ve found him.

Jordan is here. He’s really here. And he’s real.

My Jordan is real.

I take a breath and close the distance. Here goes nothing.