Page 8 of Jordan’s Breakthrough (Unexpected Love #3)

JORDAN

I t’s been a week since that first video chat, and Miles and I have talked every night. It started with crochet, but now we talk about everything. I thought I’d hate being on video, but it’s easier when we are both holding yarn.

Last night, we watched a movie while crocheting, starting it at the same time.

I barely followed it—focusing on my stitches, on Miles, and on keeping the yarn away from Clematis.

She’s obsessed, always trying to attack it, even through the pillowcase.

I hide it under the covers and stash it in my nightstand when I’m not using it.

Otherwise, she’ll unravel it all over the house.

With Miles’ help, I finished my first mouse within two days. It was lopsided, had a tail twice the size of the body, and the catnip was falling out everywhere from loose stitches, but that only made it more hilarious.

Clematis went crazy. Tossing the toy into the air and rolling around on her back as she dug at it with her one back paw. I’d even let Miles watch via video, and his laugh had made all the work worth it.

On Sunday, I work a partial shift in the morning and get home around lunchtime. Miles isn’t online. I heat up some chili and lounge around with my vape. I could start another mouse, or write, or maybe watch TV, but none of that interests me. My heart is dull.

Declan texts me via the group chat with Piper and Seth. So, what’s the plan for tomorrow, Jord?

I curse. How could I forget about family day? Again.

Remembering an ad I saw at work for a movie, I quickly scan the times at our theater and send one to them. And pizza after, I add, hoping food will lighten the deal.

They all reply with a simple thumbs up, which makes my heart sink. Am I letting them down by choosing something simple? It’s not that I don’t appreciate spending time together, it’s that I literally don’t have the mental energy to figure it out. Depression makes everything that much harder.

Declan and Piper know of my diagnosis, but sometimes, I think they don’t really get it.

I wish they did. I need someone to.

Another thought occurs to me that makes shame coil in my belly.

If I can’t handle the simple task of planning an afternoon with my friends, how did I ever believe I could handle traveling alone?

All the planning that’s required to go from one place to another?

The maps and reservations? It seems so fucking impossible now.

Feeling low, I head to bed. It’s the only safe place for me when my mind is cruel.

Just as I am about to doze off, Miles messages me: You there?

I almost don’t reply. The effort of talking, of having to form words is just… exhausting.

Me: Yeah.

Miles: I’m just getting up. I’m annoyed I wasted my day.

I don’t reply.

Miles: I try to be up earlier on my days off so I don’t waste them, but I guess I needed the sleep.

Is he saying I’ve kept him up too late lately? We’ve stayed up until 3 a.m. chatting almost every night.

Again, I don’t reply.

Miles: You at work? I can leave you alone.

Me: No. Off tonight and tomorrow.

Miles: Really? Me too.

A few seconds later, Miles calls me via video. I almost decline, but seeing his face is comforting. Like a soft light cast in my dark world.

His hair is messy, and he’s huddled in bed with blankets pulled up to his chin. His glasses are askew too. It’s unbelievably cute.

He’s unbelievably cute.

He smiles at me before stifling a yawn. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

I roll to my back, forcing a small smile as I hold the camera above me and tuck an arm under my head.

“Wait, are you in bed too?” he asks.

“Guilty.”

He seems amused, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Did I wake you or something?”

“No.”

He hesitates. “You okay then? You seem… I don’t know, off?”

Something tugs at my heart. I’ve only ever told Declan and Piper about my diagnosis.

If anyone else knows, they’ve figured it out on their own.

I just don’t like talking about it. I don’t even like thinking about it.

It makes me angry. I hate that I was born different, that I have to work twice as hard to feel normal. To feel stable, let alone happy.

Joy shouldn’t require this much effort.

For some strange reason, I want to tell Miles. He’s a nurse, so he’ll get it, right?

But can I? Or will it make him see me differently? I don’t want to scare him off. I like him too much.

“Jordan?”

I hadn’t realized I lowered the camera. “Yeah, sorry.” I suck in a quick breath. “I guess I am off tonight.”

“You want to talk about it?”

What can I say that isn’t revealing or too heavy? “Just kinda low, you know?”

He considers that. “Low as in you’re going through a hard time or low as in your mind is being cruel?”

“My mind.” I can’t look at him as I say, “I have clinical depression.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then lowers his voice. “Thank you for telling me. I know that’s not easy. But I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need.”

I swallow hard, eyes stinging. I can’t reply.

“I can let you go? Or we can keep talking. Doesn’t matter. You tell me.”

His quick acceptance means everything to me. Then again, he probably deals with mental illnesses at work all the time. He shouldn’t have to deal with it in his personal life too .

Miles waits, giving me the choice.

“I don’t mind talking,” I say. “I just… don’t have a lot to say right now. Or the energy to say it. If that makes sense.”

“I get that. Do you mind if I ask just one question, though? Just so I have the full picture.”

I roll to my side, propping the phone up against a pillow. “Okay.”

“Are you being treated for it?”

“Yeah. I’m on a couple of meds.”

“And they help?”

“I think so.”

“You think so?”

I shrug. “It’s hard to know for sure.”

He hesitates. “Well, I don’t think any medicine can stop the feeling completely, but it should lessen it. If it’s not, you might need to think about trying a different kind or different dose or something.”

I look away, feeling exposed.

“I’m just saying, I see it at work all the time. Our bodies are different, so what works for one person might not work for another. It can be tricky to find the right medicine.”

I run my fingers along the edge of the soft blanket. “Yeah.”

“Anyway, I’m not here to tell you what to do. I’m sorry you’re feeling that way. I’ve been depressed a few times in my life too, so I know how hard it is to overcome.”

I don’t think I knew how bad I needed to hear that from someone. A weight shifts inside of me.

“Is that why you’re in bed?” he asks. There’s no judgment in his tone, just curiosity.

“Yeah. It’s just… I don’t know. Easier here, I guess.”

“Hey, I get that. I drown my feelings in food.” He grimaces as he says this, then looks away. “Just sayin’. We all have our things. Whatever brings us comfort.”

His shameful tone makes me want to hug him, but he shakes it off and smirks. “Anyway, the real question is, are you in bed naked ? Because that’s the ultimate comfort.”

I bark out a laugh. “What?”

He snickers. “I’m kidding! I was just trying to cheer you up.”

I slant my head. Something tells me he was only half kidding. “Are you naked?”

His face turns a deep crimson and he mutters a curse. “Just forget I said anything, okay!”

My eyes widen. “Miles! You naughty boy.”

“What!” He hides half of his face. “Like I said, we all need comfort, and I like it, okay! Sue me.”

I’d rather hold you.

The thought is so abrupt, I look away, afraid he’ll see it in my face.

Confusion swirls in me. Miles is an enigma, unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and I adore him for it.

Sure, he’s soft around the edges, with a round face and pale skin that is sometimes covered in a rough five-o’clock shadow, but he’s also beautiful.

His dark blond hair is always endearingly messy, and his blue glasses make his blue eyes seem even brighter.

And he has the kindest heart out of anyone I know.

“I like it too,” I say softly.

His brows shoot up. “Wait, really?”

“Mm-hmm. Not every night, but yes.” Especially if I have a warm body to cuddle up against. To me, there is no greater intimacy than to hold another person skin to skin. It’s even better than sex.

His cheeks turn crimson again, and he clears his throat. “That’s, um, that’s good to know. And are you… um… you know what. Never mind.”

I chuckle. “Am I naked now? Is that what you were going to say?”

He hides his face completely. “Don’t answer that!”

“No, I’m not.” But I kind of want to be.

Miles clears his throat and changes topics. “So, um, is Clematis with you?”

I look around, then pull my cat to my chest. She squirms a little but doesn’t run away.

“Lucky. Lily ran off. She rarely lets me cuddle her. Oh! I wanted to show you something.” He rolls over, grabbing something from the other side of his bed. It tugs the blankets down, giving me a brief peek at his bare butt.

Damn, he really is naked.

Miles slips back under the covers before turning back to me, holding a piece of paper in front of the small screen.

“Should I know what that is?”

“It’s a crochet pattern for a stuffed owl,” he explains. “I’m going to make it for my patient since she’s always up at night.”

“She’s still there?” I say, surprised. “A week is a long time for someone to stay in the hospital, isn’t it?”

His smile fades. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s really sweet of you to make it for her, though.”

He sighs. “Thanks.” He lies back, taking the phone with him. “I think she’s lonely, so I’m hoping the stuffy will comfort her.”

“You must be really great with your patients.”

“That’s what people tell me.”

He clearly doesn’t like talking about it.

My phone beeps.

“Just sent you a better picture,” he says.

I open the picture, and my eyes bug. “Oh, dang. That looks hard.”

“Nah, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“It shouldn’t be too bad,” I mimic. “Uh-huh. I can barely string a chain together and here you are whipping up a whole freaking stuffed animal with wings and feathers and everything.”