The Row(64)

“I understand why you can’t let that happen,” I say softly, “but I don’t get what that has to do with me.”

He pauses for a moment, fighting through an obvious wave of pain. Then he takes a deep breath, and when he speaks again, there is a hint of desperation. “I need to feel like I can make things better somehow. I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t save her. You can’t understand how much I need to feel like I matter right now.”

The emotion in his voice is so raw that I’m filled with an immediate instinct to protect him somehow. But as much as I want to understand him, his words don’t make sense. Of course he matters. All I see in his life are people who need him. Why doesn’t he see that?

“You matter to a lot of people. Matthew and your father love and need you, Jordan.” I speak the words softly.

“Matthew needs a mother.” Jordan looks up at me and his eyes are wet. “Since he’s lost that, he needs a nanny—someone to make sure he’s loved and clean and fed. It doesn’t matter who it is if it isn’t her. But that isn’t what I’m talking about, Riley. I want someone to care that I exist, not because of what I can bring them or do for them, but because of who I am. I need someone to need me around because I am uniquely me and I’m exactly what this person needs. My mom needed me. My dad—my dad doesn’t need anyone.”

Seeing this amount of pain in his eyes tears me apart. I’d always thought he helped me because he could somehow see how badly I needed help even when I couldn’t convey it, but that was only part of the truth. As badly as I need him, he needs me, too. We heal the broken pieces of each other because we’re so opposite. We have both nothing and everything in common and I’ve never felt like someone could understand me the way he somehow does.

I tentatively lift one hand up to his cheek. I graze the tips of my fingers across the lines in his brow and they relax. As I brush my knuckles down the right side of his face, I’m surprised by the shadow of stubble I find along his jaw. The muscles fall slack and he closes his eyes, inclining his head toward my hand. I gently touch his eyelids with my fingertips, and slide the edge of my nail gently along his long, dark lashes.

Finally, I move my thumb down and hesitate for just a moment before lightly pressing it against his full lips. Jordan’s lips are soft but firm, and my heart races when he kisses my thumb. I look up and realize his eyes are open again. The heat in them could make a Texas day in July weep from envy. I’m suddenly self-conscious and I start to pull my hand back from his face, but he catches it. His eyes never leave mine, but he softly turns and presses a kiss on the inside of my wrist.

Tingles of pleasure shoot up my arm and through my body. Then he turns my hand over and kisses the back of it before lowering it to the table and holding it lightly between both of his.

“Anyway, if my dad gets mad because I’m spending time with you, it will be more because of me than because of you.” He squeezes my hand again and then gives me a pointed look. “Just let me worry about that, okay?”

I give a soft sigh, but I can’t even imagine disagreeing with him right now. “Okay.”

“Any more questions?” His smile is just rueful enough to make me laugh. And I know one thing for sure: Jordan is needed far more than he knows. Because despite our different pasts, there is no one else that I would want with me when I uncover my family’s hidden truths.





29

I SIT AT THE TABLE with Mama on Friday afternoon. The dark circles under her eyes have lightened a bit since this morning, but it’s fair to say that her hangover has mine after the park incident beat by a long shot. She was browsing through potential job openings; now her laptop sits forgotten in front of her as she stares at me in confusion.

“Why do you still want to go?” she asks with a tone that says she wonders if I’ve lost my mind.

“Because I want to confront him. I want the chance to ask him why he would do such awful things to our family. I want to understand what the hell he’s been thinking,” I say as I stuff my sunglasses and phone into my purse with much more force than necessary.

Mama closes her laptop. “Then I’m going with you.”

“No,” I respond so fast her eyebrows shoot up. “I think I need to face this on my own. Plus, seeing him right now is probably the last thing you need.”

Mama looks slightly offended. “I can handle him.”

“Please, Mama.” I reach out and grab her hand. “Just let me do this alone.”

She hesitates a moment more before answering. “Okay. Let me know if you want me to pick up some ice cream for after. We might need it.”

When I walk out to my car, I see a folded-up paper stuck under my windshield wiper. I can tell immediately from how tightly it’s folded that it isn’t a flyer and I sigh. Great. These kinds of secret messages are always super friendly.

Even bracing myself, my shoulders cave in a bit as I carefully open up the paper. I’m so tired of being surrounded by this kind of crap all the time. My eyes go first to the dark lines in a drawing at the bottom of the page. I can’t make it out at first, but when I realize I have it upside down I feel a little sick.

As I turn it over, the details become clear. At the top now is a drawing of a man in an electric chair. Jolts of electricity zing through his body and his eyes bug out of his face. This isn’t even the worst thing I’ve seen, but the timing makes me furious. Then I finally look down at the bottom half of the page and growl under my breath as I study it.