“It’s not weird,” she says gently. “It’sreal.You really care for him.”
I close my eyes, letting her words sink in. Itisreal. What Jordan and I have is the most real thing I’ve ever experienced. It also happens to be the hardest, with him being so far away.
“I miss him,” I say.
“I know. But you don’t sound like someone who’s lost something, hon. You sound like someone who found something worth missing. That’s special.”
That undoes me a little. In the good way. “Yeah. He’s willing to do long distance too, which… you know how big that is for me.”
She hums in delight. “I do. I like this guy already.”
We talk for another hour, and by the time we hang up, the entire carton of strawberries is gone, but at least the ache in my chest is softer.And at least it wasn’t ice cream.
I rinse the knife, wipe down the counter, and clean up the kitchenette space. When did it get so damn messy? Then, I open the windows. The fresh night air is wonderful and a little salty, coming from the lake. I close my eyes and breathe it in.
Finally, I reach for the bag that has been sitting at the foot of my bed all week. It’s time.
I pause when I see Jordan’s green sweatshirt—the one he’d worn that night at Sunset Cliffs. I hope he’s forgiven me for snatching it, but I just couldn’t resist. I pick it up and inhale, smiling. It smells like him. Earthy and warm and slightly sweet.
I sit on the bed with it, letting my heartache settle over me. Not in a deep, sad way, not like the last few days. But just… there. I miss him.
It’s been a week. Jordan and I have made it a week. It’ll be at least three more before I can visit him, thanks to my stupid schedule. But we’ll get through it. I have to believe that.
Picking up my phone, I send Sophie a picture of Jordan and I together, then I message Jordan.
Me:Miss you. Love you. Adore you. Cherish you. Always. (How’s that for poetry? Amazing, huh?)
17
JORDAN
Laughter rolls from the other side of the bar where Declan is telling a ridiculous story about a customer who tried to pay for his beer with a Costco membership card. Piper is practically doubled over, wheezing. I laugh right on cue when they look at me, but something feels off about it. The sound is right, but inside, it feels… flat. Hollow. Like distant wind chimes.
It makes me pause.Am I mimicking joy again?
Turning my back on the others, I tug at my necklace as I finish wiping the counter. Their voices blur around me. A week ago, I was with Miles. Holding hands and feeling whole. Now I’m… here, nodding at stories and smiling on the outside while something rots away on the inside. When did I let myself slip back into the sadness again?
I promised Miles I wouldn’t. I promised him I’d keep trying. That I’d hold on to the anchors, and I haven’t. Not really. Ihaven’t called my doctor. Haven’t checked in about the meds. I haven’t written anything since that poem. Or even journaled.
I’ve been coasting by, going to work, sleeping, eating as I should—at leastthat’sone thing I’ve managed to do right. I’ve been making easy meals with the food Miles bought me to avoid takeout. The supply is running low, though. I’ll need to buy more so the temptation for a drive-through isn’t there.
But at least I’m not drowning.
That, in all honesty, is shocking. I expected to crash harder than ever after Miles left, but I haven’t. I’ve slipped back into my routines, sure, but I haven’t crashed. Not like before.
“Hey, you guys ready?” Piper asks after a few minutes. “I’m just about finished here.”
I shake off my thoughts. ”Yeah, just let me put this away.”
Piper and Declan are waiting by the door when I come out of the backroom, and Piper gives me a small smile as we head out. “Tell Miles hi for me.”
The returning smile is less forced this time. “I will.”
“Hey, do you think he’d care if I send him a friend request on Facebook?” Declan asks.
“No, I think he’d like that.”
His grin is immediate, reaching his eyes. “Cool. I’ll do that then. Think he’ll be coming for a visit soon?”
