CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jesus. He’d never been so nervous about anything in his entire life. Jordan stared down at the phone number he’d tapped into his phone. His finger hovered over the screen, Taking a deep breath he pressed the green circle and put the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Doug?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“It’s Jordan.”
“What the fuck, man. Fuck. I want to tell you to go fuck yourself and hang up, but I want to know where the fuck you’ve been more.”
“Doug—,”
“Emme cried her eyes out for two weeks.”
A knife pierced his heart. “Doug—”
“I’ve never seen her so unhappy.”
“Doug—”
“Not even after that fuckwad in high school.”
“Doug!”
“What!”
“I’ve been in the hospital.”
“What?”
“I was injured the same night Emme found out about my promotion. I’ve been in the hospital for almost a month.”
“Shit.”
“I tried to email her, but it bounced back and I couldn’t remember her cell number.”
“Did you send it to the right email?” His voice was calmer, but still held an edge to it.
“I hit reply. I don’t know why it wasn’t delivered. Can I have her number?” He held his breath in the silence. “Please.”
“I’ll give it to you, but you need to go see her in person.”
He picked up the pen from where it lay on the table. “Where is she?”
“Charleston.”
He’d been wrong. Now he was nervous. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Maybe he should have called instead of showing up at her office, but he hadn’t wanted to give her a chance to hang up on him.
Fuck it. He stared at the closed door of the office he’d been directed to. Knuckles poised over the door, he hesitated. Maybe he should walk in. He titled his head back and forth and rapped twice.
“Come in.”
Sweat beaded on his upper lip and a litany of ‘fucks’ ran through his head. He inhaled, exhaled, and opened the door.
Maneuvering around the door on his crutches took some effort. Stepping into the office, he scanned the small room, taking in the cubicle-style desks in the far corners, one of which was occupied by a brunette, but no Emme.
