Page 29 of Make You Love Me
“That’s the thing. She was distant and cautious. I expected her to be more…”
“More what?”
I shrug, disappointment setting in. “Excited. Relieved. Affectionate.”
“You know her better than me, but I’ve yet to see much emotion from her. She stays in control, no matter what.”
“Yeah.”
“Maybe she was overwhelmed from being the last to learn about the accident,” he suggests.
“Yeah.”
Each explanation, while adequate and believable, do nothing to ease the dread, tumbling like rocks down a mountain inside me.
We park outside the apartment building and make our way inside. After taking my meds, it’s not long before they make me drowsy, and he helps me lie down.
“Thanks, Jackson,” I mumble and drift off to sleep with a dozen more unanswered questions to add to the growing list.
But before focusing on answers, I need to make amends with Josie. I took my fears and frustrations out on her, and no matter what happened with Sergeant tonight, she didn’t deserve my wrath.
Chapter 8
Nora
Sitting in Jordan and Josie’s apartment on their new-to-them loveseat, I sip my coffee and watch Jordan sleep. He’s always been a peaceful dreamer. Soft breathing. Languid muscles. Limbs that never fidget or jolt.
Many mornings after spending the night together, his warm body and pine scent would register before the sound of his near inaudible inhales and exhales. But this morning, our first morning together without Josie, he’s restless. Maybe it’s from his medication wearing off and pain re-surging. Maybe it’s a nightmare or vision from his past.
We’ve spent no time together since his first seizure several days ago, and he didn’t contact me yesterday. Not one text or call. Under the circumstances, avoiding conversation makes things easier on me, but I grew concerned when Josie left this morning without waking him to say goodbye. She opted to leave him a note and her introspective mood put me in one, too. My thoughts are all over the place, and I’m not thrilled with being left here alone with no idea what to expect when he wakes up.
A quick glance at my phone tells me it’s nearing the hour. His body may no longer be operating on a military schedule thanks to his three-week hospital stay, but Josie said he starts every day at six o’clock.
I watch the seconds tick by, and his eyes flutter open at 6:03. They land on me first, and there’s bewilderment behind his stare that rattles my system.
“Hi,” I say, needing to break the hold he has over me. “I brought muffins and bagels if you’re hungry. Got strawberry cream cheese just for you.”
He tries to push up onto his free elbow, but the loose bed sheet shifts, making him fall back on his pillow. Fingers pinch the space between his eyes as he takes deep breaths through the pain. This is only the third time I’ve seen his sunny temperament clouded with an emotion. He doesn’t upset easily, but this morning, he is a lit match hovering under dynamite.
Unable to decipher what he’s experiencing, I drop to the floor beside him. “What can I do?”
“Nothing.”
“How about breakfast in bed?”
He doesn’t grace me with a response.
“Okay. I’ll pack it up, and we can go do something.”
His hand drops, and his head rolls to face me, his brow still pinched. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. What would you like to do?”
Rolling to the other side, he gazes out the window and ignores me.
“Do you still have that bucket list in your wallet?” I ask to get him talking.
“Yeah, but what good is it in my condition?”
