by Jayne Denker
Jordan was frozen. Absolutely frozen. And it had nothing to do with the weather. Technically she was toasty warm; the Nash home was comfortable, brightly lit, and nicely decorated. But John had dropped a bomb on her that left her paralyzed in the foyer . . . after he’d taken her coat, so she couldn’t even bolt.
“Will’s going to be a little late. Old Betty Bergman’s car broke down on Route 237, and he’s staying with her till Jack can get there with his tow truck. But come on in and make yourself at home!”
Egad. It was like she was standing on the sidewalk on the first day of school and her mother wrenched away her woobie, shoving her into the building without its comfort and protection. Wait. That had actually happened, hadn’t it? Well, it was just like that. No Will? Just her and the Nashes? Dammit.
Jordan took a deep breath, smiled gamely, and let John usher her into the throng.
They were all incredibly nice once again—so much so that she felt guilty for dreading this so much. But she couldn’t deny it took a major effort on her part to get her rusty social gears turning, and it exhausted her. Kids shouting and playing with their new toys from Grandma and Grandpa, plus the ones they’d gotten from Santa and couldn’t bear to part with, even for a few hours, so they’d brought them along from home. Boisterous Nash men with their booming laughs. Annie, sweet as always, yet constantly nudging her—and everyone else—to have this appetizer or that one. Jordan managed to dodge them all, until she realized they were from the frozen-food section at the wholesale store. Then she dug in. She was starving, and with good reason—she must have burned a thousand calories last night.
Jordan smiled to herself at the memory. Memories, actually. Dayum.
“Well, somebody looks full of Christmas cheer today. Did Santa bring you everything you asked for?”
Jordan was pretty sure Cam had been too preoccupied with trying to placate a freshly incensed Summer last night to have noticed what she and Will had gotten up to, so she didn’t worry about any follow-up questions when she grinned like the Cheshire Cat and said, “And more.”
Cam obviously had no idea what she was looking so pleased about; he just blinked at her and said, “Good.”
“And what happened with you? Are things better or worse with Summer?”
“Well, she’s here. That’s a good sign, right?”
“Any indents in your skull from weighted objects?”
“None yet.”
“Did you talk to her like I told you to?”
“I tried. I don’t know how much got through.”
“Keep trying.”
Cam studied her, dead serious for once. “Why do you even care so much?”
“I don’t know. I guess . . . I just don’t want to see one more marriage crash and burn, okay? You got together for a reason. Just . . . remember what it was.”
“Okay, Dr. Phil. Whatever you say.”
“I’ll bill you. Or you could work it off by getting me a drink.”
“That’s a fair trade. Beer? Wine? Hard stuff?”
“Surprise me.”
Cam hustled off eagerly, and she realized he probably was going to cook up something so potent it would have her swinging from the chandelier, singing Christmas carols. But whatever it took to buy her some time. She made her way over to Summer, who was standing by a folding table by the bookcase, pairing up some cheese and crackers.
“Hey, Jordan. Great of you to come. How’s your Christmas so far?”
“Good. How’s yours?”
The pretty woman’s cheeks tinted rose. “Uh, weird, to be honest.”
Jordan nodded sympathetically, then jumped in before she lost her nerve. “Um, I need to tell you . . . I know. About Amelia. Cam didn’t say anything,” she rushed on. “I figured it out for myself.”
“Wow. You’re a better detective than Will. Maybe you should join the force.”
“Not interested, thanks. Look, I won’t say anything to anybody. It’s just . . . I mean, don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but maybe you can cut Cam some slack?”
Summer narrowed her eyes, and Jordan felt a little flutter of panic. She shouldn’t be talking about this. But she couldn’t seem to stop, either.
“He was wrong not to tell you, sure, but maybe you can look at it from his point of view. He promised Sera and Jaz to keep the secret from everybody—even his family. For Amelia’s sake. And . . . and . . . that’s gotta be a really hard thing for anybody to do. Just think how much harder it was for Cam. I mean, come on—it’s Cam!” When Summer laughed ruefully, Jordan felt more comfortable continuing. “And in this town? Please. It’s a miracle this bit of gossip didn’t make the rounds years ago.”
Summer sighed and looked down at the plate in her hand, but said nothing. Jordan charged on.
“He was young and stupid. What was he, twenty? He probably just thought it would be fun to get paid to . . . um, okay. Never mind that. But . . . trust me, I know all about keeping secrets for other people. He didn’t do it to hurt you, and it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. He just screwed up the timing—he should have told you sooner—but he’s sorry about it. Don’t trash everything between you just because he messed up.”
Silence. Jordan figured it was time to go hide in a corner. She’d done enough damage, and running her mouth much longer wasn’t going to win anybody over, least of all a wounded and still-hurting Summer.
Then the other woman raised her eyes to Jordan and said, “You’re more together than you let on, you know?”
“I get that a lot.”
Licking her lips and looking around the room uncomfortably, Summer said, “I’m a social worker. A counselor. So why can’t I use all my professional skills to move past this?”
“Well, if this happened to someone you had to counsel, what would you say?”
“Considering I work with delinquent girls barely into their teens, I’d say I’d be calling their parents on them.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do.” She sighed. “Thanks, Jordan. I’ll try.”
“It’s all you can do.”
Summer stopped her as she turned to go. “Hey, Jordan? Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure.”
“You said you studied social work in undergrad?”
Got her degree in it, she almost said. Nearly finished her master’s as well. She didn’t say that either. Just nodded.
“How would you feel about working with the teens in my program? Will said you have more community service hours to complete. I could get approval to take you on.”
“I met those girls.”
“Will said you were great with them.”
“I know how they think.”
“I sure could use some of that mojo to get through to them before they start making bad choices. Well, more bad choices. Care to help?”
Jordan felt a smile steal across her lips. “It . . . could be interesting.”
Then there was the sound of the back door opening and closing, some loud greetings (were there any other kinds in this family?), and Will was there, hurrying up to Jordan and kissing her on the cheek. “Sorry, sorry. Jack was busy playing with the new spot welder Santa brought him, and it took some convincing to get him to come out and rescue Betty.”
“Is that some kind of code?”
“This is from Cam.” Will handed her a drink, and she took a sip. A powerful Long Island Iced Tea. She should have known. “And no, not code. Jack’s a metal sculptor as well as a mechanic. You know Marsden.”
“I’m trying to.”
“Has it been horrible?”
Jordan took a bigger gulp of her drink, which made it easier to say, “No, of course not.”
“Jordan says she wants to help with the teens. That’d fit the community service requirement. Right, Will?” Summer asked.
“It’s a great idea.” He winked at Jordan, and she got the feeling he’d been plotting this all along.
“Presents!” Annie chirped befor
e Jordan could confront him about it. “The kids have gotten theirs, so we might as well do the grownups’ gifts before we eat.”
John directed Jordan to a seat on the sofa, and Will perched on the arm, his hand braced on the back, behind her. As Annie helped Pickle and Lucas read the tags and hand out the gifts to the rest of the family, Jordan looked up at him. He smiled down at her.
“You didn’t have anything to do with Summer’s idea to ask me to help her out with the teenagers, did you?”
“Who, me?”
She had her answer. “Quit helping me.”
Lucas pushed a large box toward Will, and he ruffled his nephew’s hair to thank him. “It’s my job.”
“You’re not my keeper anymore.”
“Settle down, lady. I didn’t do it as your ‘keeper’; I did it as someone who has a vested interest in your happiness. Besides, I didn’t ask Summer to do it. I just dropped some hints and let her come to her own conclusions.” He leaned closer to her and whispered, “Just go with it. Why do you always overthink things?”
Her mouth twisted in a smile. “Very funny. Open your presents.”
“And here’s one for Jordan!”
“Wh—me?”
Annie plopped a gift bag into her lap. “Just a little something to say ‘welcome to the family.’”
“Mom!” Will exclaimed, mortified.
“Oh, hush. Go on, Jordan. It won’t bite.”
Wanna bet? Cripes, they had her married off to the guy already. Jordan felt her chest tighten. Was this what a panic attack felt like? This had to be what a panic attack felt like. Everyone was watching her. She had to open it. She’d look like an idiot if she didn’t.
She reached into the bag and rustled past the tissue paper. Her hand closed around something heavy and soft. Fabric. She could deal with something fabric. An ugly sweater? How nice. You shouldn’t have. A throw pillow or set of placemats? Thank you so much. Whatever it was, she could—crap.
“Is this . . . ?”
“One of Will’s quilts!” Anne exclaimed, so excited she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Remember the ones I was saving for his hope chest? Well, this is the last one he made before he retired. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“I . . .” Jordan wanted to say she couldn’t accept it, but everyone was staring at her. Smiling. Welcoming. Okay, Cam was laughing behind his hand. Other than him, though, everyone was just . . . beaming. She lurched to her feet. “I have to . . . I’ll be right back.”
She tripped over boxes and gift bags and clumps of wrapping paper, squeezed between John and Summer, and stumbled into the foyer. The air was cooler here, and she found it easier to catch her breath. Then she was making her way down the back hall, toward the mudroom. Too cold to go outside, and she had no idea where her coat was. So she did the next best thing: hid in the powder room.
“Jordan?”
Of course Will had come after her. She must have looked like a crazy person, running out of the room like that. Hell, maybe she was crazy. Who wouldn’t want to be welcomed into as nice a family as this, especially when they were everything her own family was not and never had been? But . . . how could they just accept her, include her, without question? She didn’t deserve that kind of—
“Jordan? Are you in there?”
“No.”
The door eased open.
“Hey! What if I was peeing?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’d like to request a lock for this door, but otherwise, yeah. I’m fab.”
Will squeezed into the tiny room with her and shut the door behind him. “Nope, ’fraid I don’t believe you. What’s up?”
“My pee. Because you can’t let me go to the bathroom without following me.”
“Come on.”
Jordan sighed, crossed her arms, and leaned against the dollhouse-sized pedestal sink shaped like a fluted scallop shell. “I’m fine.”
“Right. Okay: new rule.”
“There are rules?”
“When we need them. And if you’re cowering in a bathroom—”
“I don’t cower!”
“Cowering in a bathroom,” he repeated, “hiding from something as harmless as a Christmas gift, then it looks like we need a rule right about now.”
“All right, here’s one: Your mom shouldn’t entrust me with one of your precious handmade childhood keepsakes. There. Done.”
“Yowza. That was a mouthful. Can I talk now?” Will waited, and when she didn’t respond, he took it as permission to continue. “Okay, here’s our rule. Ready?” He closed the distance between them—which only required about half a step—and gently placed his hands on her hips. He said softly, “When you feel like freaking out, when you get the urge to cut and run for whatever reason, come to me first. Even if,” he went on, cutting her off as she started to speak, “even if it’s me—or anything connected to me, like my family—you’re freaking out about. Deal?”
“But—”
“I’m not letting you get away with it this time, Jordan, you hear me?”
“Kind of hard not to, when you’re all up in my face,” she grumbled.
“I like being all up in your face. And I think you like it too.”
Jordan unlocked her arms. Her hands gripped his biceps—always a surefire way to ground herself. “Yeah, well, lucky for you you’re cute.”
“No running away anymore. Tell me what the problem is, and we’ll work on it together. Got it?”
“Yeah . . .” she said reluctantly.
“Going to tell me now?”
“What, here? Won’t we use up all the oxygen in this room?”
“Jordan.”
She sighed. “I’m just . . . not used to all this, okay?”
“What, the presents, my family, or the dicey eggnog?”
“All of the above.”
“A little more info, please?”
“Well . . . there were no goofy, homey, ugly-sweater Christmases in my parents’ house, let’s put it that way.” Her voice got quieter. “I just remember the silence, mostly. It was what they liked, every day, no exceptions for holidays. It was easy for them, because they never talked to each other.”
“Never?” Will was shocked. Of course he was.
“They hated each other—as long as I’ve known them, anyway. Still do. But they stayed together because . . . honestly, I have no idea what for. The lifestyle? The security? Pride? Maybe it was just habit. Whatever their reason, it sure made for a toxic environment, but when I was little I didn’t know any better.”
“And now I think I know where you get your ‘relationships are stupid’ opinion from.”
“First-hand observation, you mean? Definitely. Anyway, Christmas. No guests, no parties—too chaotic. A fake tree because real ones made a mess—couldn’t have that. Gifts were everywhere, though. Mom and Dad always laid out the cash. Too bad it didn’t make up for the other stuff. Then dinner at a restaurant—also almost completely silent. Then . . . done for the day. Getting a picture?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
He kissed her, pulling her into a warm embrace, but she stiffened in his arms. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I hate that. I got used to it; it didn’t bother me. Still doesn’t. Until I see the alternative. Then I get pissed.”
“You feel like you missed out?”
“Maybe.”
“God, if I could change your past, I would. As it is, all I can suggest is to go back out there right now, rejoin the party, and O.D. on every tacky Christmas cliché known to man. In just one day, you could make up for every one you missed out on.”
Unbelievable. He’d actually made her laugh. “I could try.”
“Thank you.”
“But before I give it another shot . . . think there’s enough room in here for a quickie?”
“Normally, I would do everything in my power to make that happen, but I think this one’s even beyond me. Why don’t we put it on hold till later?”
Chapter 28
> When Jordan came out of the powder room and rejoined the Christmas celebration, Will was ecstatic he’d been able to talk her down. When they made it through the rest of the holiday season without incident, he wanted to take a victory lap. He wanted to turn cartwheels. He wanted to try BASE jumping. Maybe he’d get some advice from Holly, their resident daredevil. She’d tried every death-defying stunt he could think of. In the meantime, he settled on taking longer runs early in the morning to work off the sudden surplus of energy he had. It kind of worked. He still had enough on reserve to spend as much time with Jordan as possible—and take her to bed (or, you know, wherever was most convenient)—whenever he could.
Sometimes he sat back and boggled at the whole thing. Jordan Leigh? The whole notion was crazy, unbelievable. But he couldn’t deny how he felt. She made him happy. Really happy. She made him laugh, she challenged him—God, how she challenged him—and now that she trusted him enough to let her guard down all the way, he was able to marvel at her soft, gentle, caring side. And all of her together—the soft part and the prickly part and all the other stuff in between—made up a woman that Will just wanted to gather to him and hold close, forever.
Or somebody had drugged him. He’d heard it could happen.
The thing was, he didn’t really care what was making him feel this way. If it was drugs . . . well, bring ’em on. More please. Because up till now, he’d had no idea he could feel this much joy. He just wondered how he’d lived without it for this long.
His cell rang, and he smiled. There was nothing better than seeing Jordan’s name on the screen. “Hey. How’s your day going?”
“Dude. Did you just seriously ask how my day is going?”
“I did.”
“I don’t think I can respond unless you go full-on cliché monster and tack ‘honey’ on the end.”
Will laughed. “I’ll do it if you want.”
“Don’t you dare. Listen, I thought you might want to be the first to know, what with you being a police officer and all . . .”
“Did you break the law?”
“Not today. As far as you know. Anyway, the girls confessed.”
He sat up straighter in his desk chair. “Really?”