Chapter Two

Leave a Message

He was gone.

Just like that, one day she came into the hospital after getting off work and he wasn't there. She entered his room and found a neatly made bed and no sign of Woody.

Words could not begin to describe the panic that ran through her system. She whirled around and ran to the nurses' desk. "Detective Hoyt…room 108…has he been moved? He's not there…"

"Oh, honey…didn't he tell you?" the head nurse responded.

Jordan shook her head no.

"He's been air lifted to Walter Reed in DC. They have a better rehab program than we do…the best in the nation. He's going to be there for several months…hopefully, they'll at least be able to get some feelings back in his legs. We've done all we can do here," the nurse concluded cheerfully…as if she was offering Jordan all the hope in the world.

"When….when did he leave?"

"This morning…about nine. I'm surprised he didn't tell you, with you coming in every night and helping him with his therapy." The nurse looked confused. "I mean… this has been planned for three or four days now."

Jordan turned from the nurses' desk and slowly made her way back to her El Camino…and then back to her apartment. No. He didn't tell her. Not a hint. Not a suggestion.

He didn't say a word.

Well…he said he didn't believe you…she thought…that he didn't believe you really loved him. That he didn't want you hanging around out of pity. Maybe he figured you'd follow him to DC for the same reason – you felt sorry for him. He said it was over between you two, Jordan…that night when you gave back his ring. He said it was over. He wanted to just be friends.

And that's what you've said you've wanted for three years. To just be his friend. And now you've got what you wished for…it sucks that it isn't what you really want. What your heart is feeling. But in a way it's your fault…you took too long to make up your mind.

She fought back the tears as she got ready for bed. Maybe it was really over. Maybe he had moved on too far…out of her reach…maybe he had really put her out of his heart. She felt cold and empty as she sat in her bed … as cold and empty as that day after his first surgery when he had jerked his hand from hers and told her he didn't want her any longer.

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head against them….letting the tears come. And when the morning light filtered itself across her apartment…she was still sitting there…the tears had finally cried themselves out, but she felt colder and more alone than ever.

"Hey…this is Woody. Leave a message after the beep and I'll get back with you as soon as I can…BEEP."

It was the third time she had called this week. It was the third time she had gotten a voice mail. It was the third time she had left a message.

It was the third time he didn't call back.

For the first two weeks after he had flown out of Boston, she left him alone….thinking he needed to adjust to his new surroundings, schedule, and doctors. She told herself he needed to concentrate fully on that….and just that for a while.

This week, she decided it was time to make contact. She wanted him to know that there was someone back in Boston that still cared….a great deal…even if he wasn't sure what his feelings were. She had actually thought about asking for a week off from the morgue and flying down to Walter Reed herself, but Slocum said she could have no time off until more progress had been made on Macy's case. It was pressing.

And she had reluctantly agreed Slocum was right. Woody had the best medical attention in the nation. Macy…and whatever the truth was surrounding that case…needed her immediate and complete attention now. "But I'll tell you what," he told her, "if Detective Hoyt's condition changes in any way for the worse, I'll have you one the first plane to DC," he promised.

So, she had called. Woody had ignored her. At least that told her one thing – he had moved on. He truly no longer wanted her.

Now she would have to adjust. Adjust her way of thinking…that he wouldn't always be there for her on at least a friendship level. Adjust her concern … he obviously didn't want her to care. And the most difficult of all, adjust her heart. Try to fall out of love with a man who held hers in the palm of his hand…and no longer wanted it.

She wasn't so sure how successful she was going to be with any of the adjustments. Especially the last one.

It took her time….weeks of it. Weeks of forcing herself to put down her cell phone when she wanted to call him. Weeks of not checking by his apartment to make sure everything was still alright there. Weeks of not asking his fellow detectives if they had heard from the boy-wonder from Wisconsin.

The adjustment took time…but after a couple of months, Jordan had forced her heart into lock-down. She would not allow it to jump at the sound of his name, or when she saw his familiar signature on a file, or smelt his cologne in the department store. Between forcing herself not to react to anything about him any longer, and working her ass off for Slocum, she made a successful transition from want-to-be girlfriend…to nothing at all.

Until one afternoon…she came into the crypt and Nigel and Sydney were there packing up the evidence to the cop killer shooting….and she saw Woody's flak jacket, with the gaping bullet hole and his blood still covering the front. She put out a shaky hand and gently touched it.

And felt the emotions rush back and the tears gather.

She left work without saying a word – and went home and cried her eyes out. She needed him. She needed to see him…touch him…smell him….just make sure he was alright…make sure he was still alive. Tentatively she reached for her cell phone and dialed his number. '

"Hey…this is Woody. Leave a message after the beep and I'll get back with you as soon as I can…BEEP."

He hadn't changed his mind. He had moved on. He no longer wanted her.