WOODY'S APARTMENT, 1 A.M.

Jordan: (nocks on door)

Woody: (opens door, looks at her; he had been sleeping)

Jordan: Do you sometimes think about things so much you can't sleep?

Woody: (opens door for her) Come on in.

(they go sit on the sofa, Woody gets blankets to snuggle into)

Jordan: I miss her …

Woody: … Your mother.

Jordan: I don't know, Woody. I don't know how to be a mom. I don't know how moms are.

Woody: You'll do great, Jordan.

Jordan: You don't know that.

Woody: I do. When it comes to those you care about, you're one of the most caring women I know, Jordan. And that's the most important thing about a mom. Caring for her kid. You'll do great.

Jordan: Tell me. About moms. How they are. How yours is.

Woody: (looks away, sad) I wish I could. I don't remember much.

Jordan: (looks at him questioning)

Woody: She died when I was four, Jordan. Cancer.

Jordan: (moves over, hugs him, near tears) Oh, Woody. I'm sorry. I didn't know. I'm so sorry.

Woody: (hugs her back) It's ok, Jordan. I never told anyone. It's just … We, Cal and I, we were always 'those poor Hoyt boys'. I was sick of that when I first came to Boston. I didn't want anyone know about my past. My family. I wanted to start over. Be me for a chance, not just a son of my parents.

Jordan: (hugs him closer) Tell me? (snuggles into him)

Woody: She was diagnosed in the first months of been pregnant with my brother. I was two. She refused to get treated. She didn't want to hurt the baby. By the time she was ready for chemo, when Cal was a few month old, it was too late. She got sick. Dad was deputy back than.

Jordan: Your dad is a cop too?

Woody: Deputy Sheriff, Sheriff later. (faint smile) We're more alike than you thought, huh? So he didn't have time to take proper care of a sick wife and two little boys. We kind of moved in with Aunt Marge and her family. Mom's sister. There was this little house next to her bigger one. So aunt Marge could come over whenever needed. And after mom … after she died we stayed there. Aunt Marge tried her best, but she wasn't mom. And she had her own kids. And dad … he was distant, strict sometimes. Guess he missed mom and didn't know how to deal with us. And then, when I was sixteen, some eighteen year old gas station robber shot him. He died two days later. Then it was just Cal and I. They let us stay on our own with Aunt Marge checking from time to time of course.

Jordan: Oh, Wood. I'm sorry. I always thought you had a model childhood and no worries. You seemed always so happy. I shouldn't have assumed you didn't have any hard time. I'm sorry.

Woody: Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong. (wipes away a stray tear on her cheek with his thump)

Jordan: I should have asked.

Woody: (strokes her back gently, hugging her closer)

They sit like that for a while until Jordan starts to fall asleep.

Woody: It's late. We should both go to bed.

Jordan: (snuggles closer as a respond)

Woody: (lifts her up and carries her to his bed, tucks her in and starts to leave)

Jordan: (sleepy) Where you goin'?

Woody: I'll sleep on the sofa.

Jordan: No, stay, please.

Woody: You sure?

Jordan: Yeah, please?

Woody: (climbs into the bed next to her)

Jordan: (snuggles into him)