Page 28 of Long Road Home

Because if I hadn’t, with the way my pulse rioted inside me and my knees wobbled, I most definitely would have collapsed.

Jordan’s eyeswere glued to the stairway I’d just walked down after putting Toby to bed. “I told you he’d like you,” I said to him.

It was well after eleven, and I’d finally called an end to game night when Toby kept yawning. He hadn’t whined much, but he had hesitantly gone to Jordan and thrown his arms around for him a quick hug before taking my hand and dragging me up the stairs.

They’d spent hours playing, shouting back and forth with the occasional high-five and constant laughing. I’d alternated my time between cleaning the kitchen and packing a few boxes to pretending to read a book from Tillie’s bookshelf. More than once I yanked out my phone and snapped a photo of them grinning at each other.

It had feltgood. Normal. It had almost felt like this was always the way it was supposed to be, Jordan and me, together, hanging with our kid. It was all the things I’d never been brave enough to think of. Instead, I justified my decision. I let shit that didn’t matter get in the way of the only thing that at that time, should have. Jordan being in his son’s life. I had a lifetime of mistakes to make up for, and sitting in the living room, watching them play video games together was barely a drop in the bucket.

Now with Toby in bed and me heading to the living room where Jordan and I were supposed to do more talking, I was clueless on how to begin repairing what I’d destroyed.

“He’s a good kid,” Jordan said. His hands slid into the pockets of his jeans. “You’ve done good with him.”

The compliment sent a searing, burst of pain to my chest. I fought back tears. I’d cried enough in the last forty-eight hours. Breaking down every time I received a compliment or nice word from Jordan wouldn’t help.

“You said you don’t keep beer in the house, but I brought some with me earlier and left it in the truck. Do you mind if I have one?”

“No.” I wished I had some wine. One glass to soothe all my nerves.

“I picked up wine, too. Didn’t know if you drank anything…”

After all these years, he could still read my mind. “Not much, but yeah, I think I would like some.”

He walked past me to the front door and I moved to the kitchen. I had no idea if Tillie had a bottle opener or a corkscrew, so I was still digging through drawers, coming up empty when Jordan returned.

He went right to the fridge, slid all but one beer into it and touched his hand to the side of the fridge and pulled out a bottle opener.

“That explains why I couldn’t find one.”

“First time I showed up with beer, Tillie didn’t have one. Next time I came by she’d bought this magnetic one and had it on the fridge for me.”

That was Tillie. Always taking care of people.

“How was she?” I asked as he opened his beer. “Did you see her?”

He took a long drink of his beer before carrying the wine bottle to me. He went to a cupboard above the microwave, moved some things around, and came out with a wine opener. Damn. He knew his way around this house better than I did.

“Saw her a couple days before. Knew she was getting sick. Knew she was getting old, but she wasn’t that old. I don’t even know if she ever went to the doctor. If she did, I didn’t know about it and people knew I was coming here, Des. They would have said something. It was strange, really.”

“She knew I would have come back,” I said, watching as he grabbed a wineglass from the same cupboard, opened the wine, poured it, and set it on the counter. Red wasn’t normally my thing, but I took it anyway. “Damn it. She hid it from me. And I know it was because she was protecting me.”

I was talking more to myself, but Jordan still asked, “Protecting you from what? Me?”

“Probably you hating me. She’d always had my back with this, and I’m not saying it’s okay Jordan, but she’d even suggested I leave. And I listened. Maybe she didn’t want both of us hating her, but I didn’t know you were so close to her either. She never mentioned it. She never showed any regret and somehow, even when I wondered if I’d done the right thing, I stayed gone because she always made it seem like the right thing. But a few months ago, and last summer, she started talking. Doubting.”

I stopped talking. A storm was brewing in his stance and his expression and we’d had enough of that.

He took another drink of his beer. “Last time I saw her she told me to forgive you. Had no idea what she was talking about but obviously now it makes sense.”

“I know it’s soon. I know it’s stupid of me to ask, but…”

“Don’t.” It came out harsh and firm and so quick my mouth snapped shut. “Don’t ask that. Can’t give you that and I have no idea. Don’t force me to make that decision. Okay?”

I picked up my glass of wine and started walking toward the living room, figuring he’d follow me. But I had to put my back to him.

It felt like every time he spoke, another dagger of regret was shoved into my heart.

I couldn’t lose it in front of him every time he hurt me. I deserved so much of it.

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