CHAPTER FOURTEEN
She eyed her parents’ modest, two-story colonial house nestled in an older suburb of Newport News, as Jordan turned into the drive-way. trying to shift through the feelings raging through her.
Jordan eased to a stop, shoved it in to park, and shut off the engine. He leaned close and rubbed his nose behind her ear. “You okay?”
Turning her head, she gave him a tight smile. “I’m nervous .” And scared, but she didn’t admit that to him.
“About what?” His voice was soft and deep, smoothing over the edges of her emotions.
She took a deep breath. How to articulate it everything she was feeling? “Mom’s going to cry. And then I’m going to cry.”
“Okay.” His brow narrowed in that way guys do when they have no idea what a woman is saying.
“And as soon as we walk in that house, we’re over.”
Jordan reared back from her. “What?”
She winced at his shout in the tight confines of the car. “Not like that,” she rushed on. “But when we get out of this car, it’s not just us anymore. The bubble we’ve been in is going to pop.” She dropped her gaze to her clenched fingers. “I want to stay in the bubble.”
God, she sounded desperate. And needy. She hated being that clingy, needy girl who couldn’t stand on her own two feet, but all he’d done for the last two weeks was take care of her. She wanted him to know she neededhim, not what he could do for her.
“Emme.” He threaded his fingers into her hair and she nuzzled his hand cupping the side of her face. “Babe, look at me.”
The backs of her eyes stung when she lifted her gaze.
“Is that why you didn’t want them to meet us at the airport?” The pad of his thumb brushed back and forth on her cheek.
“Partly. Mostly I didn’t want a huge scene in the middle of baggage claim.”
He dropped his forehead to hers. “It’ll be okay. Our bubble won’t pop. We’ll have to make it a little bigger.” He kissed her forehead, then the corner of her eye. “You ready to go in?”
Taking a bracing breath, she nodded.
“Come on. The sooner your mom starts crying, the sooner she’ll stop.”
Emme smiled and released her seat belt. Opening the door, the pressure in her ears finally equalized.
Pop.
He pulled their suitcases out of the trunk of the rental car and slammed the lid closed. Throwing the straps of his black duffle bag over his shoulder, he took Emme’s hand and grabbed the handle of her larger, rolling suitcase.
He wasn’t sure if she believed his reassurances. He needed her to because he needed to believe them too. She was right in some regards — everything would be different from this point forward. There was no escaping that, but they would make it work.
The front door opened and an older version of Emme ran out and down the steps, catapulting herself at Emme. She was crying. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs and Emme had her head buried in her mom’s neck.
Her dad came down the steps more slowly, but that may have been to give himself a few seconds to gather his composure.
Jordan held out his hand. “General.”
The older man pulled him into a bear hug and pounded his back. “Thanks for bringing my girl home.” His voice caught at the end and he cleared his throat. He released Jordan and clapped him on the shoulder.
“Quit fussing Lori and let me in.” General France grasped his wife’s shoulders and pulled her back a step and to the side. He took her place and wrapped Emme in his arms, picking her up off the ground.
“Hi, Daddy,” Emme whispered.
“Never again, Emmeline.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
