Chapter Fifteen

Starting Over

We need some closure. Four lethal words. Just like "get the hell out," these particular ones had an immediate, and totally unmanning affect on Woody's libido. Temporarily he prayed.

"Wha...wha...what are you saying Jordan?"

Jordan sat up leaving Woody feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the sudden absence of her body heat. He closed his eyes and prayed as Jordan tucked the bed sheet around her body.

She drew a careful breath like she was calculating the weight of her words. "Before we make any more mistakes, we need to clear the air..."

Woody sat up. His only answer was a nod. Clear the air. He didn't know if he could since he didn't seem to have the air with which to speak.

"I...I thought we did...last night...here. We said we were just going to move forward." Gently, he turned her face towards his. "Please Jordan. Are you having second thoughts?"

Her eyes darted to the side and her lips pursed before she could look him in the eye. She cupped his chin in her palm and tried to rub away the worry lines that framed the corner of his lips with the pad of her thumb. "No," she assured him breathlessly. "No, I love you Woody. I want a future together. I just think we need to do make sure there is nothing that can come back and bite us in the ass."

Through the dark shadows, Jordan flashed him a little smile that was more reassuring than anything she could say. Woody visibly relaxed, leaning back against the headboard, and pulling her loosely into his arms, hoping the darkness of the room would make it easier to talk. There was something about confessing your soul in the harsh light of day. The same thing could be said about having deep, meaningful discussions completely naked. There was no place to hide.

"Where do we start?"

"Two years ago. Boston General...maybe before."

Woody shifted uncomfortably, "I'm not going to make any excuses Jordan. My life had gone to hell in a hand basket and getting shot was just one more thing to add to the pile. I admit it, I lost it, and you were just the easiest person to take it out on."

"I deserved better, Woody."

"I know," he whispered kissing her temple. If he could take away every evil word, every cold look, every hurtful action, he would. "Hindsight's twenty-twenty, Jordan. I know now I pushed you away because for first time since..."

Woody stalled. What did he want to say? Since the first time he tried to be someone he wasn't? Since he tried to escape the boy he was and become the man he wanted to be? He drew her fingers through his, unconsciously reaching for some thread of unspoken support.

As if she could read his mind, Jordan brushed her lips against his, helping him to restore his confidence and prod him to continue. Boston General was the middle of the story. Woody started at the beginning:

"I picked Boston because it was a world away from Kewaunee. I thought if I wiped the slate clean, I could change. Maybe I could be that person that only good things happen to. I met you and I thought it was possible."

Jordan smiled softly in his direction. The Jordan Woody met all those years ago was a confused ten year old girl stuck in a woman's body. At first, his sweetness and kind heart made her a little envious and then she saw grimaces of the man inside. What a conundrum they were. Jordan knew now that as she was discovering the ability to trust and see the goodness in the world, Woody was rediscovering the pain of reality.

"When Devan died I knew that there were no such things as happy endings."

Feeling very naked and very vulnerable, Jordan clutched the sheet higher on her chest, feeling the lurch in her pulse through her fingertips.

"You loved her. Didn't you?"

"I don't know, maybe, in some selfish way. I realize now I love the idea of her. She was... you... without that knack of making me want to pull my hair out in frustration. And to top it off she always took me at face value and she never made me look too far inside myself."

Jordan raised her chin. "After she...after the plane crash, I thought we were heading in the right direction."

"We were, Jordan. We just couldn't agree on all the ground rules of what that direction was," he whispered softly, evenly. "But I don't think that's what happened. Cal...happened and then..."

"I'm so sorry, Woody."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for. You didn't do anything wrong, Jordan. If anything you've always been completely honest with me."

Jordan let out an unlady like snort and readjusted the sheet over her knees.

"I'm serious!" he smiled. "Come on Jordan, you've always been honest with me about...us, about the things that really matter. To tell you the truth, I always envied that about you."

Jordan bit her lip at the irony of hid declaration. Envy. They more of kindred spirits then she ever imagined.

It was time to turn the conversation to what she felt was the heart of the matter. She turned to give him a searching look.

"What happened? Where did we go wrong when you were shot?"

He raised her hand to his mouth kissing the curve of her palm. "Honestly? I wanted to hurt myself and I ended just hurting you instead. For that I'll never forgive myself," he stated plainly, like he was telling her what he had for dinner the night before.

"You did though, Woody," she whispered, barely audibly. "I put myself out there for you, opened my heart and you threw it back in my face. I don't think you have any idea how much it took for me to admit how I felt. After that, I swore I wouldn't put her heart up for target practice for you a second time."

The thought of another man holding her, talking to her, during these dark early morning hours, when the only two people in the world were them, had him seeing red.

Woody wasn't naive. He knew two years was a long time. He'd be crazy not to think there wouldn't be others in her life. Good men, smart men, better men. Men that would tell her how beautiful she looked, men that would tell her how good her lips tasted, men that were there when he wasn't. He'd be hypocritical to think she sat at home mourning about what wasn't meant to be. It wasn't like he wallowed in his own self destructive pity for long. He used Leighanne just as badly as he used Jordan. Worse. He let her believe they had a bright future ahead of them.

Woody bit back a mirthless laugh. He had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams. He had hurt himself right where he didn'twant to: Jordan.

What now? Was he supposed to get up gracefully and leave giving her space or was he supposed to fall out of bed and drop to his knees begging her ever loving forgiveness? In his current state of dress neither plan seemed to be the most desirable scenario. Egotistically, Woody thought there were times a man wants the woman he loves to see him naked ...and this wasn't one of them.

Instead he brushed the hair back from her face and studied it gravely. It maybe hard for Jordan to open her heart, but it was just as hard for Woody to let her see his real-utterly-flawed-never-good-enough-little-boy self.

"Are...are you saying that...even though you love me, its not good enough? I'm sorry Jordan. If I could do over the least two years. Hell, if I could do over the last thirty years, I would. But it's not possible. Believe me I've tried to more than once and I've made a lifetime of mistakes because of it. I'll do anything to make this up to you Jordan, but if you want a guarantee, that is something I can't give you. "

Before he could say another word, Jordan touched her fingertips to his lips.

"No. What I'm saying is I don't need a guarantee Woody. All I need is you. The real you, not some picture perfect version you want me to see. I need to feel your pain as well and your elation. I need to know your passions and your doubts. I want to be the one you turn to when the demons get to strong to fight by yourself. I've said it before. You are not alone in the world, Woody. And you don't need to protect me, especially from yourself.

"There is no such thing as happily ever after. I don't want that perfect life," she smiled. "I want a real life. I want to argue over trivial stuff. I want to fight like cats and dogs about everything from baseball to politics. I also want to know you'll always have my back, like I have yours. I want to hold you when life gets to you and I want to hold you for no other reason than it's Tuesday. I love you. I never thought I ever say this, but I'm in for the long haul. I want a relationship; an honest-to-God-toothbrush-caddy-sharing relationship.

"I just needed you to know you hurt me by not letting me in. Maybe I should have pressed harder than I did. I admit I was scared if I pushed you too hard I'd find out I was wrong about you..."

Woody eyebrows narrowed with confusion. "Wrong? I don't understand."

Jordan settled back into his arms as she continued. "When you pushed me away I thought it was only your fear talking. I don't believe a person can turn they're feelings off like a light switch. Love can turn to disgust maybe...but never to indifference. I was worried that if I pressed I'd find out that that the indifference was real..and you never did care for me to begin with..."

Woody groaned like a knife had just been stabbed into his heart. "Now what, Jordan? I'm a terrible, horrible person that hurt you where I could do the most damage. I've totally destroyed my life more often than I can count and dragged you down in the process. You say you want a relationship, but does that mean with me? Because I'm very confused right now. Is this your way I getting back at me? Turn the tables, up the stakes and then cut me to the quick? Because if that is your aim, you're pretty damn right on the mark."

"No Woody. I just wanted you see where I was coming from," she smiled smugly against his chest. "And I think I succeeded."

"So are we even?" Woody's pouting pride spoke.

"No, we're clearing the air. Starting over."

"I'm so done starting over my life, Jordan," Woody snorted.

"You never started it over with me before, Cowboy. You and me, together, a new beginning. No more shadows from the past. The real us. For better or worse."

"Are you proposing to me, Doc?" he smiled.

"Now? When we have to get up in two hours to go to work? No."

"Good. Because I'm an old fashioned kind of guy."

"The bended-knee-lots-of-flowers-velvet-boxes kinda guy?" she asked biting her lip.

"Add moonlight and soft music and you get the picture."

"Mmm…. well," she said rolling him over with a siren's smile. "I can wait. But, since we have two quality hours to kill..."

"...Yes?" he murmured through a welcome feeling of life in his lower body.

"Maybe we can work a little on the part that comes after I say 'yes'."

He only nodded his head and opened his hand, sliding it between her legs, finding the perfect way to end their conversation.