Jordan's POV:

This afternoon, I picked up the phone to call Woody, but Garrett gently put his hand over mine . . . forcing the receiver back into the cradle. He protects me; he protects me from having to face all my demons personified. Woody reminds me of Danny . . . Devon . . . Malden . . . James . . . and Dad. Those people are not connected to my finest moments.

My words to Woody were careless; 'I'm sorry' aren't those words that I wanted to say. I wanted to sound much more sincere; I wanted to say something meaningful to Woody. I knew I was hurting badly, but whether I liked it or not, Woody cared for Devan more than I ever did. I wondered where he was, but the last time I let him into my bar . . . I made a huge mistake. Garrett reminds me that it was a mistake; it was something transient . . . my relationship with Woody would always be something transient.

We gathered at my bar. We talked about Devan; we all came bearing our guilty feelings. Lily was the only one that didn't have guilt; she loved people without considering what it might do to her. She let everyone in; I wished that I hadn't been so harsh with Devan. Death made me forget all the times that Devan truly made me feel small; all the times that she reminded me that I no longer had a father . . . all the times that she flaunted Woody right in front of me. I should have just let her have him; I made that decision a million times, but I don't think that I ever really placed it in motion. I had recently come to see that Woody might not have been worth the fight. I should have been friends with her rather than waging an unseen war.

We all talked for hours. We shared stories about Devan; all the stories placed her in a positive light. That's where she should be; maybe that's where she always was. I want to be a better person; I want to be more like Lily.

My suitcase sits in the corner. Nigel won't let me reschedule my flight for a few more days; he says that the vivid images of the wreckage needs to fade. Those images will never fade; they will always be engrained in his mind. I will never feel safe flying again; wheelchair batteries . . . ceramic bullets. They make me shudder. Garrett says that I should still go to Dallas; he says the miles will provide me with strength. Out of site, out of mind.

Garrett neatly made the bed in the spare room. He put my New England Patriots blanket on the edge of the bed. He is the only person that knows that blanket goes everywhere with me. It's a small piece of home; it's a small comfort in my times of need. It reminds me of all the Thanksgivings spent yelling at the television with Dad; it reminds me of watching the Superbowl. Those things make me happy. This Thanksgiving, I'll be eating a frozen dinner in Dallas. I'll be watching the football game alone. A few weeks ago, I thought that Woody might share this Thanksgiving with me; tonight, I know that will not happen. I can't let it happen. I feel so much guilt already; I'm not interested in feeling more. I forced myself to think of all the adventures I could have in Dallas . . . all the new people I would meet. I forced myself to think of seeing rodeos and meeting Southern gentlemen. It would be a growing experience if anything.

"Jordan, I just wanted to say good night," Garrett says as he gently taps on the door.

"Good night, Garrett. Thanks for making sure that I'm taken care of," I replied. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him; he's been one of the only constants in my life. I owe him so much; he's held my hand the entire time I've struggled to put the past behind me. He's helped me grow so much in the last few months. I'm glad that he had the balls to tell me that there was more to life than Woody. I had to stop clinging to Woody for support; I'm glad he took the cloak from my eyes. I had become the independent woman that I thought my father might be proud of . . . it just took me a long time to do it.

"Get some sleep," he replied. I hear him walk down the hallway; he doesn't have to say the words. I know that he cares; I could see it today when he ask me if I was okay. Even when all my family is gone, I always have Garrett.

"Cavanaugh," I say as I pick up my cell phone. I don't bother to look at the caller ID. Nigel promised to check in this evening; he was going to make sure the Pogue was ready to be re-opened tomorrow. I said I could do it, but Nigel also needed something to push the guilt into the corner of his mind. He too said unkind words to Devan.

"You're not in Dallas," Woody says. I'm not sure what that means; his tone is non-committal. There is a very good chance that he's trying to tell me that he wants me to be in Dallas. I'd understand it that were true. I said horrible things to him; I wasn't honest with him about Vegas. He wasn't totally honest with me either.

"I'm leaving in a few days," I replied. I'm not sure what to say to him. I want to say something perfect. I want to say something that is comforting. I can't mobilize the words that I want to say.

"You're at Dr. Macy's," he states. I didn't know what to make of that; he was confusing me. I figured Eddie started flapping his big mouth. Eddie was always good for that.

"I'm staying with Garret until Nigel let's me reschedule my flight," I replied. I tried to be honest. Even if I had rescheduled my flight, I wasn't sure if I would have been on it.

"You shouldn't go," Woody said.

"I need to go. Woody, I'm really sorry, but this is something you have to work through. I can't replace Devan . . . I can't be Devan. I'm probably the last person that you should reminisce about Devan with," I replied. I was still determined to find happiness for myself; I was determined not to always look for happiness in Woody. A man wouldn't solve my problems; being with Woody did nothing but complicate things further.

"I don't want you to go, Jordan. Don't leave me," he pleaded. He sounded like a truly broken man. I had to remind myself that I would only be needed until something more beautiful came along. I had to remind myself of how replaceable Woody made me feel. I had to remind myself that he wasn't ready for a commitment; he might never be ready for a commitment. This was a tangled high school love triangle; it took me a long time to realize that I wanted out. 'So Dawson's Creek' Garrett had called it; I asked him what he knew about Dawson's Creek. He smiled and reminded me that he had a teenage daughter . . . I reminded him that Abby didn't live with him.

"I'm sorry, Woody," I whispered.

"The last thing I said to Devan was . . . I told her that I loved you," Woody replied. That wasn't nearly as bad as what I said to Devan or how I treated Devan. Just because he says it doesn't mean that he means it; he said that to me when we were in bed. A few days later, he was sleeping with Sam. I wondered if Annie had really shaken his world so much that he was terrified to love; I wasn't sure if that was just an excuse for bad behavior. I knew what it was like to be terrified to love; I wasn't anymore. I was actually looking forward to finding something I could be passionate about . . . cowboys, barbeque, or leather boots. It made me smile. It made me feel free.

"Why now?" I asked.

"You're all I have left . . . you're all that I really wanted. Come see me, Jordan," Woody replied. He sounded so sincere; it was easy to want to give in to him. "Boston won't be the same without you."

I guess my silence answered his request. I knew Garrett wouldn't let me go even if I wanted to. I knew Garrett didn't want to see me hurt again.

"What about coffee tomorrow?" I asked; I tried to think of the next best thing.

"I need you, Jordan . . . I don't want to be alone tonight. You're all I have left," he sounded so desperate. I didn't even know what to say to comfort him; I didn't know what to say to protect myself from the aftermath. I told myself that I needed something more than 'comfort sex.' I needed someone that would be here for me tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and the day after that.

"Woody, I can't. I can't play this game. I'm sick of playing this game," I replied. I stood my ground. It made me feel good that I was able to do this for myself. It felt good to know that I would no longer define my happiness by the status of our relationship.

"Coffee tomorrow?" he asked sounding defeated. I knew he hated when I acted as grown-up as I had begun to feel.

"Coffee tomorrow. You can pick me up in the morning . . . after Garrett leaves for work," I replied. I cursed myself for making this back into a sneaky, high school relationship.

"Thank you."

"Good night, Woody . . . I'm really sorry about Devan. I know she meant a lot to you," I said. It felt good to say those words and mean them. I wondered if this is what it felt like to begin to fall out of love . . . I wondered if this was a good thing or a bad thing.