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“Right . . .” She’s quiet for a few minutes, just letting me breathe and hold on to the only connection I have with someone who actually cares. “What do you need right now? Do you need to be angry? Sad? Do you need me tell you he’s an asshole and you deserve better, or do you need me to walk you through it all logically?”
I bark a rough laugh at her questions. I love her. My lips tip up in a small smile knowing she has my back.
“Because it was an asshole move that he left knowing you lost your brother. You deserved better,” she states very matter-of-factly.
“I hear a but coming . . .”
“But I can also see how he would have struggled to face you after the trauma of seeing his best friend die.” She takes a deep breath. “I don’t know him, and I don’t know what happened, but I can’t imagine facing the person I loved if I felt at all responsible, or was harboring survivor’s guilt, after their loved one died while I was with them. It’s a fucked-up situation all the way around.”
Logically, I know that. “But how can I trust him not to disappear on me again?” I lean my head back and close my eyes, taking in a cleansing breath. “I don’t know that I could survive it again.”
“First of all, you have survived every bad day and fucked-up situation you’ve been in. Every single one. Did some of them leave a lasting impression? Yes, but you’re still here. You would survive it because I wouldn’t let you do anything less.” Her adamance makes me smile and lifts some of the weight from my chest. “Second, you can’t trust him. Not right now. Make him work for it. Make him earn it.”
I nod, biting on my lip and wiping the tears from my face.
“So if you need to fall the fuck apart, rage, cry, and scream, do it. Get it out of your system because after that, we’ll pull on our big boy panties and move on with life.”
“You’regoing to wear big boy panties?” The giggle that escapes me is so unexpected I cover my mouth to hide the sound. The smile feels foreign on my lips. How sad is that?
“I’ll wear whatever damn panties I want and dare you to argue with me.” Her tone is playful, and I’ve missed it. I’ve missed the snark and love she shows me so unconditionally.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath and release the pressure on my chest to the world.
“You can only control what you do, how you react. If he wants to work to get back into your life, let him try. I think both of you deserve that.” She softens her tone and lets me hold on to that idea for a minute before continuing. “He fucked up, and it sounds like he knows it, but he wants to fix it.”
I stand up and brush the dirt from my legs.
“I’m scared.” I chew on the inside of my lip. “What if he makes me trust him, then walks away again? How much more of me is there left to break?” My words wobble.
“Love is fucked up that way. You have to have faith they won’t break you or walk away and not let them get close. If you’re willing to risk it, just be careful. I don’t know him, but I get the feeling he won’t do that to you. But if he breaks your heart, he’ll have to deal with me. You know I’ll mend your heart with coffee and junk food and movie marathons.”
I take a deep breath and allow myself to take comfort in her being there. I can trust Jordan.
“Okay, thank you. I love you.”
“I love you too, boo thang. Call me anytime, you know I’m here.”
We hang up, and I make my way back to the villa slowly, enjoying the sounds and breeze and warm sun that hits my skin between the branches and leaves. I don’t know how to let him in. How to face him after what he just told me. I don’t know how to stop it from hurting.
As I head to the pier, the same receptionist as yesterday stops me.
“Mr. Cushings, your package has arrived.” She smiles and hands me a box with my villa number on it.
Confusion has my eyebrows pulling together.
“Uh. I didn’t order anything?” Did someone send me something? The only people who know I’m here are my parents, Aston, and now Jordan. I can’t imagine anyone but Jordan sending me anything, but she wouldn’t have had time.
“Then I assume Mr. Vaughn ordered it. A call was placed last night for it from your room.” She holds out the box to me and smiles again.
“Oh, uh. Thank you.” I give her a small, unsure smile and take the box. It’s not very big, somewhere between a shoe and a boot box. It’s heavier than I expected, but I get it to my room and find Asher sitting on the edge of the infinity pool outside.
“Did you order something?” I finally ask when he quirks a brow at the box.
“Yeah,” he says. “Open it.”
Nerves flutter in my stomach as I set it on a table and pull the tape off. I open the flaps of cardboard and freeze. What the fuck is this?
I snap my head in his direction, not sure if I’m touched or angry, but it’s probably a mixture of both.
