Lifers (42 page)

“Torrey, wait up.”

“What is it, Paul? I want to get going.”

He pursed his lips. “I am sorry that I said that about you. I didn’t mean it. I never did.”

I sighed. “Fine. Whatever. Apology accepted. I have to go.”

“Darlin’, please?”

“I can’t deal with this now, Paul. Yeah, what you said hurt, but I can’t, I just can’t!”

“You’re not the only one who cares about him, Torrey.”

I met his eyes at last.

“I know.”

I broke a few speed limits getting to the hospital. Jordan would have been pissed. He was always such a careful driver, which given the reason, wasn’t surprising.

It took several frustrating minutes before I could locate him. They’d moved him from post-op recovery to a unit on the far side of the hospital. I clip-clopped my way along the overly polished corridors, becoming irritated when slow moving patients blocked my path. Why the hell didn’t everyone stick to the right hand side? I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from yelling at a woman strolling along with a portable drip on wheels.
Out of my way! I’m in a hurry here!

She smiled at me pleasantly and I grimaced in return.

When I found Jordan, he was alone in a small room. His left eye was heavily bandaged, and although it barely seemed possible, he looked even worse than the day before. His entire face was swollen beyond recognition and his chest and arms were mottled green, purple, and black.

I thought he was sleeping and I tried to hold back a sob, but his good eye fluttered open.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he mumbled, his voice thick with tiredness and pain. “I’ve been waitin’ for you.”

“Yeah, well, I was going to get a manicure this morning, but the hospital was on the way, so … here I am.”

He managed a weak smile, although the effort seemed to tire him, and he turned his hand palm up on the bed, silently asking me to hold him.

He was right: I felt better being able to touch him and feel his warm, calloused skin. I leaned over and brushed a soft kiss over his forehead. It was about the only part of him that wasn’t damaged.

“So, how they treating you in here?”

“’Sbetter than prison,” he chuckled, hoarsely.

“Nah, you just have low standards,” I quipped.

He started to shake his head then winced.

“Not anymore, sweetheart. I have you. Pure gold.”

I tried to laugh it off, even though his words made my heart tremble.

“You may look like you’ve been run over by a truck, Jordan Kane, but you are one smooth talker!”

He tugged weakly on my hand. “Not smooth,” he mumbled. “I love you.”

“I know,” I said, quietly. “I love you, too.”

His good eye blinked open again. “You … you love me?”

“I told you last night, but you were too busy being unconscious.”

His eyelid fluttered closed and his face contorted with the effort of holding in the emotions that churned inside him. I saw a single tear roll down his cheek.

“Jordan,” I said, slowly, “we have to talk about this. About what you let those men do to you. It’s got to stop. You know that, right? Enough is enough. I won’t stand by and watch that again. I can’t.”

He looked up, watching me, measuring my expression. “Parole’s nearly over,” he murmured.

“Don’t tell me that was the only thing stopping you from fighting back. You told me last night that you were paying a debt!”

His brow wrinkled in confusion. “I said that?”

“Yes. Because it was Ryan Dupont?”

“Oh, yeah. I remember,” he said, thickly.

“The police were here last night,” I added, as his fingers tightened around my hand. “They’ll want to talk to you. They told us that Ryan turned himself in. He’s refusing to say who the other guys were, though. The cops are waiting to speak to you to see if you want to press charges.”

He shook his head minutely. “No charges.”

Which was pretty much what I’d imagined he’d say.

My voice took on a frustrated edge. “If you refuse to press charges then you have to
promise
me that this is where it ends. Because I’m telling you, Jordan, I don’t ever want to see you like this again. Ever. I won’t stand by and let you self destruct out of some twisted sense of … justice … or atonement. If you can’t move on, I don’t see that we can have a future.”

God, I didn’t mean those words but I needed to shock him, to make him see sense.

His fingers squeezed around mine more tightly.

“I’ll never forget what I did, Torrey.”

“And I don’t expect you to. But you have to
live
, not exist in some twilight half-world. I want to share a future with you, Jordan, but not like this.” My voice shook. “I can’t.”

He tried to take a deep breath but the pain from his broken ribs drained the blood from his face.

“No more,” he whispered. “Together. Us together.”

“The debt is paid?”

He hesitated.

“I’ll pay ‘til my dyin’ day, sweetheart, but by livin’, not wastin’ my life.”

“You promise?”

“Promise.”

He lay quietly while I drew slow circles over his wrist, rubbing my finger over his tattoo. Relief warmed my whole body, and I felt a glow of love for the man lying next to me.

Jordan had drifted back into a drug-aided sleep when his primary physician arrived for the morning rounds.

He ignored me completely, flipping through the chart on the end of Jordan’s bed then barking out some instructions to the minions following him.

When he turned to leave, still without speaking to me, I was fuming. I’d had a really bad 24 hours and I’d just reached my limit.

“Hey!” I barked. “I am sitting here! I do exist!”

“Excuse me?” he said, haughtily.

“Doctor…?”

“Dr. Markov.”

“Well, Dr. Markov, as it has clearly escaped your attention, I would point out that your patient has a relation sitting by his bed, waiting somewhat anxiously to hear a report of how he’s progressing after both a surgical procedure and a severe beating.” I was just getting into my stride. “May I remind you of your duty
primum non nocere
, and right now that includes not raising my blood pressure above its very comfortable base level of 120/80. So, please, be so good as to tell me how the hell my fiancé is doing!”

He blinked several times as my voice became louder, and several of the students accompanying him looked nervous. Yeah, well, they could learn a lesson in manners just as much as Dr. Jerk-off.

“Ahem. Mr. Kane’s blood pressure is stable; his blood work looks good. I believe the retina reattachment was successful and that Dr. Linden was pleased with the surgery. There’s no blood in his urine, which is a good sign, especially after receiving blows to the kidneys. In short, he’s doing well.”

“Thank you so much,” I snapped back. “Next time you might like to offer up information without having to have it surgically extracted from your anus!”

His mouth dropped open then closed with a click. He swept out of the room, but not before I glimpsed a smile on the faces of some of the students.

Jordan opened his good eye. “I think you scared him, firecracker.”

“Oh, you’re awake!”

“Didn’t have much choice what with all the hollerin’.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just, he pissed me off so badly!”

Jordan gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I noticed. You sounded real lawyer-like right up until the part where you told him he had his head up his ass. But even that sounded classy.”

I smiled and stroked his arm, happy that he felt up to making jokes.

“Well, I was a paralegal for three years; I picked up a few tricks.”

He looked at me thoughtfully.

“You want to go back to doin’ that, sweetheart?”

I nodded my head emphatically.

“Yes, I do. More than ever.”

He frowned at me. “Why’s that?”

“Well, lawyers see paralegals as pretty low ranking—‘glorified secretary’ I’ve been called, when the lawyer is an asshole—but we’re the ones who can talk to the clients in plain English. I can’t advise anyone, but I can explain the advice they’ve been given in words they understand. People find lawyers intimidating. I’m not like that.”

Jordan laughed quietly and took my hand in his.

“Sweetheart, you just intimidated the shit out of that doctor. You intimidated me the first time I met you, and just about every day since.”

I was taken aback. “I didn’t! Did I?”

“In a good way,” he said, soothingly. “You’re just so fearless, a real straight shooter. You don’t take shit from no one, and you say it like it is. I love that about you. I think you’d be a great paralegal. Hell, you’d be a great lawyer if you wanted to be.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Nah, I tried law school. Couldn’t stick with it. I like my job, or I will when I get another one. I was thinking maybe I’d look into getting a Masters degree. Maybe.”

He was silent for a moment. “You know I’ll support whatever you want to do, right? If you want to go back to school. Whatever you want, we’ll make it happen.”

“That goes for you, too, Jordan.”

He closed his good eye, a peaceful expression on his bruised face.

“Kinda sounds like we’re plannin’ a future, sweetheart.”

I smiled to myself. “Doesn’t it just,” I agreed.

I looked up when the door to Jordan’s room opened quietly, and his parents stepped inside.

“Your dad’s here,” I whispered, running one finger down his neck. “And your mom.”

Jordan glanced up as Paul came into his vision.

“How’re you doin’, son?”

I think Jordan meant to shrug, but he winced instead.

“Been better. Okay, I think.”

“Momma’s here.”

Jordan didn’t reply as Gloria stepped forward.

“I hear you got engaged,” she said.

Jordan blinked a couple of times and flicked his gaze to me, then started to smile.

“Is that what you heard?”

I squeezed his hand. “Sure, goes a long way with the hospital staff.”

He looked confused for a moment and some of his bright smile faded. He gazed coolly at his mother.

“Why are you here, Momma?”

Gloria swallowed a couple of times. “Well, your father telephoned to tell me what happened. Despite … all the things … I wanted to make sure you were … all right.”

Jordan gave a short, cynical laugh that ended with a gasp of pain.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Momma. Nothin’ to worry about.”

There was an awkward silence and Jordan turned his head away.

“Right,” I said. “I think we should let him rest now.”

“Of course,” Paul agreed, quickly.

Gloria just nodded and left the room.

“Stay with me, sweetheart,” Jordan mumbled, his voice slurring with sleep.

“Always,” I whispered.

Jordan had been sleeping for over an hour. All that time, he hadn’t let go of my hand. I sat next to him, watching his chest rise and fall steadily.

When the door opened, I was surprised to see we had a new visitor.

“Hello, Torrey.”

I froze and eyed her warily as she hovered by the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Jordan. And you.”

“Really, Mom?” I said, snidely.

“Yes really, Torrey. To be honest, I’ve been trying to think of what to say to you for a while now. When this happened to Jordan, I realized that I’ve been so…”

“Hypocritical? Judgmental? Sanctimonious?”

She gave a small smile.

“Yes, all of those. Can I come in?”

“He’s sleeping.”

“I’d like to talk to you, if I may?”

I nodded tiredly, and she pushed the door fully open and walked inside.

As soon as she saw Jordan’s battered body, she gasped.

“Oh no!”

I stared at her.

“Oh yes, Mom. That’s what they did to him. They beat him to the ground, kicked him while he was there then beat him some more. When he was unconscious, they stopped. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t even try to defend himself.”

“But why?”

“Seriously? You can ask that question with a straight face?”

Her expression was confused and full of pain.

“Since he got out of prison and came back here, everyone’s been treating him like he’s trash, like he deserved this to happen. So guess what? He believed them. He believed people like you who thought he deserved to be punished. Congratulations, Mom. Jordan agrees with you. He thinks he’s a piece of shit.”

“No! I never … Torrey, no! I never said that!”

“Oh, come on, Mom! Your big speech to him about your ‘moral obligations’? He chose love, the same as me. And these people,” I waved at Jordan’s bruised face, “they chose hate.”

She swallowed several times.

“You love him?”

“Yes, Mom, I do. I didn’t choose an ex-con just to piss you off, no matter what you think. Jordan is a good person, a kind person, and he makes me happy when he’s not getting the shit kicked out of him because of some twisted sense of honor. And believe me, we’ve already had words about that. Before him, it was just a string of faceless guys. He made me believe in myself, Mom. Because he loves me.”

“Oh, Torrey! I’m so very sorry. I like Jordan, I do. But I
love
you. All I cared about was your well-being.”