Ignoring everyone else, I keep my focus on Jordan. “Jordan.” He looks back to me. “I might not understand, but I don’t need to because I know that violence never solves anything. It won’t solve whatever this is.”
He stares down at me. I can see a war raging in his eyes.
After what feels like forever, he exhales. “Okay.”
I nearly cry out with relief when he takes my hand and shifts the car keys back to his.
“Not today, Donnie.” He turns, walking away, taking me with him.
“What? You’re leaving! You’re a f**kin’ pussy, Matthews! A motherfucking pu**y!”
My heart is beating so hard, afraid that Donnie won’t simply let Jordan walk away from this and that he’ll come after him.
Jordan pulls some bills from his pocket and drops them down on the counter as we pass by the wide-eyed waitress. “I’m real sorry for the trouble, ma’am.”
Then we are of out of there.
I glance over my shoulder to see if Donnie is following us. He’s not.
Jordan squeezes my hand, pulling my attention back. “He won’t follow us. Despite his bravado, he’s a f**kin’ pussy. He challenged me in there because he wants an audience. He wants me to hit him first so he can get what he thinks is his revenge.”
I don’t question what that revenge is. Jordan will tell me if he wants to.
We’re back at the Mustang in record time. He unlocks it, letting me in.
I’ve just clipped my seatbelt when I hear the sound of Jordan yelling. Seatbelt off, I’m back out of the car just in time to see Jordan’s fist connecting with the wooden fence by the parking space. “FUCK! Motherfucking f**k!”
Normally, in a situation like this I would be paralyzed by fear, but not with him. My feet carry me toward Jordan without a second thought.
He’s standing with his forehead pressed to the fence he just beat on and his hand clutched to his heaving chest.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look it.”
“Well I am.”
“Can I take a look at your hand?”
“Why?”
“Because you just punched a fence and the med student in me wants to make sure it’s okay.”
He tilts his face in my direction. The look on his face is hard. His eyes cold. The warmth I’m used to gone.
“I don’t need you to fix me, Mia.”
I feel my face flush under the harsh sting of his words.
Clearing my suddenly full throat, I say, “I’m not trying to fix you. I just want to make sure you haven’t broken any bones. Nothing more.”
His eyes close on a long blink.
Stepping away from the fence, he moves toward me and holds his injured hand out.
I take it in my own, ignoring the rush of sensation I feel, and begin checking his hand, making sure he hasn’t broken anything.
“All fine.” I look up at him a few moments later. “It’s just going to be swollen and bruised for a few days. Could do with some ice on it, and we need to clean that out.” I run my fingertip over the small graze on his knuckle.
I lift my eyes to his, finding Jordan already staring down at me with dark eyes. The air instantly shifts. My pulse quickens. Fireflies swarm my stomach, setting my insides on fire.
And what do I do?
I release his hand and step back, putting space between us.
I might not be afraid of Jordan, but I know what anger and sex combined can mean to a man.
Not that Jordan and I will be having sex. I just don’t want to confuse an already confusing situation.
He flexes his fingers out. “All you seem to do is fix us Matthew men up.” I notice his voice sounds gruff.
“I don’t mind.” I shrug.
“Mia…” He rubs his good hand over his hair, exhaling heavily. “I’m sorry I lost it just then. There’s just a real big ugly history with me and Donnie. It’s no excuse, but it was either that fence or his face. And better the fence, right?”
“Right.” I smile. “But I don’t think the fence would agree with you.” I poke my index finger through the hole his anger has left in it.
Jordan’s body starts to shake with silent laughter. His eyes smile at me.
I let out a little laugh. “Do you want to talk about it?”
His humor quickly dissipates. He stares at the ground for a long moment. “No,” he says, lifting his head. “Right now, I just wanna get drunk.”
It’s pretty early to be drinking … but what the hell. I can call day drinking part of the new me.
“I could go for that.” I smile.
“That’s my girl.” He grins.
His girl?
His girl.
***
We drive back to Durango and head straight into town where the bars are. Jordan says he’ll leave his car there and pick it up in the morning, so we’ll be getting a cab back to the hotel when we’re done.
I’ve never done anything like this before – going to a bar in the afternoon with the intention of getting drunk.
I’m kind of excited. Okay, I’m freaking thrilled. I feel like a rebel.
Sad, but true.
Jordan has brought me to a bar aptly called ‘The Bar’. I’m sitting at a table in the back. Jordan’s gone to get us some drinks. This round is his.
The next is definitely mine.
He comes back with four shots in his hands, two beer bottle under his arm. I guess we’re starting big.