Of course, thank you to Cittykat17 and Tracey for your lovely review, and I hope all of you who are continuing to read are enjoying as well. It looks like there will be two more chapters to go before this one's finished. We're nearly done!
Chapter 11
Many hours later as they were snuggled under the covers of their bed, Jordan gazed out the windows at the lightening sky. Neither of them had done more than doze yet. She was currently resting against Woody's chest, their legs still tangled together and his hand playing with her hair. A soft, satisfied sigh escaped her lips and she closed her eyes, listening to the beating of his heart under her ear. It was still going at a quick pace and she smiled, knowing that that was because of her and what they had just spent the last few hours doing.
"Hey, Jo?" Woody asked quietly, his voice cutting smoothly through the pre-dawn darkness and his hand never stopping its movement through her hair.
"Mmm?"
"What's going to happen when we go back to Boston? With us?"
Jordan propped herself up on an elbow so that she could look down at his face, somewhat taken aback by the distanced concern in his question. His hand fell away from her hair and moved down her bare back, coming to a stop just above the base of her spine. "What do you mean?"
"I dunno," he muttered, trying to find the right words for what he was wanting to say without it coming out wrong. "I guess it's just that every time something big happens with us, it's never while we're at home. You know, the California desert, then in LA. What we did at the inn last year. And then, when we go back home...everything returns to where it was before - sometimes even worse than it was. I just..." His words trailed off again, and he took his hand from her back and touched her face. "I've gotten so used to being with you while we've been here. I don't know if I could let go now."
Jordan grinned at him, covering his hand on her cheek with her own to hold it still. "Didn't we just have this discussion a few hours ago? I have no intentions of going anywhere. Especially not now."
"Yeah, that was kind of incredible, huh?"
"I'd say mind blowing is a more accurate term," she purred, taking her weight off her elbow and lying down against him again. But then she quieted and took a deep breath as she actually thought about what he'd said. He was right, that was for sure; going home always seemed to force them to take so many steps backward it was hard to even see where they had been trying to go.
"Woody, I don't know if it matters, but… Well, I've heard some of the colorful rumors people like to spread about my personal life and I just want you to know that you're the only man I've…been with since we came back from Littleton Village. I never even tried to look for someone else when you -" When you were with Lu. The words caught in her throat, and she cringed. That was not exactly what she had wanted to say. "It was always you."
Her admission took him off guard, and his face flushed. True, he had heard those rumors. Some flew that she and Ivers had had an affair, as had some about her and other random men in the last year. He had taken them all with a grain of salt, but hearing her mention it so casually made him burn with shame about Lu – about the way he had treated Jordan during that whole ordeal. They had both made so many mistakes. "I'm sorry, Jordan, I never -"
"I'm not looking for an apology," she interrupted, reaching up to press a finger to his lips. "I just…wanted you to know that I'm ready to try this if you are. When we get home, I mean. And really, man, I told you all of this last night."
"Yeah," Woody agreed softly. "Would you maybe consider, um…no, never mind. That'd be a bad idea."
He shook his head as Jordan watched him, now too curious to let it go without prodding. He'd backed himself into a corner and she grinned like a cat who had found a mouse. "What were you going to ask me?"
"It's nothing, Jo. Really."
"Nuh-uh, it's something. Why Woodrow, you're blushing!" She used her arms to prop herself up this time, one of either side of his chest, effectively pinning him to the mattress with her upper body. Slyly, she lowered her face and kissed his neck, dragging her lips over his skin and up toward his ear. "Ask me," she breathed.
"You'll say no." It was a weak protest, and they both saw that he was fighting a losing battle.
"Will I?"
Her teeth grazing the cusp of his ear as she finally reached it was his undoing. "Live with me, Jordan." The words spilled out more as a moan than a question as she continued to torture him. "I don't want to be without you for another day. Please…don't say no."
She stopped her seducing to stare down at his face, and he immediately regretted letting the thought take form. But she didn't look angry, or even upset. Rather, her eyes were amused and they glinted in the darkness as she smirked at him. "You really think I'm going to say no?"
Before he could answer, she pressed her lips to his in a kiss that seared through his soul. His arms came up to wrap around her, and she melted against him, moving her legs to straddle his hips so that she was completely on top of him. The heat of her body sent wave after wave of desire through him. One of his hands flew up to tangle in her hair, pulling her even closer.
Jordan pulled away just long enough to smile and whisper, "Okay. I'll do it."
With that, he rolled them both over and showered her face with kisses. When his hands began to find their way down toward her thighs, though, the doctor in her paused and checked the pulse in his neck. She didn't have to count the beats to know that it was a bit too fast, too soon. "Woody, stop. Just for a second."
"What?" he asked. The sun was starting to peek above the horizon, and he could just make out her worried expression. "What's the matter?"
"You almost died recently, remember?" She gently levered herself out from under him and turned to her side, cupping his cheek in her hand and making him lie back down, too. "Your heart shouldn't be under so much strain so soon after being poisoned. I should have stopped you after the first time. I'm sorry." She pulled him close for a soft kiss and let him envelop her in his warm embrace, chest to chest with her head tucked under his chin. "Let's give it a few hours, okay?"
Surprisingly, he didn't protest her request to take a break. Truth be told, he was still a little dizzy, and he knew she was right. So he buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her and never wanting to let go. "You'll really live with me?"
"You sound so shocked," she mumbled playfully, scooting just a little bit closer. "I'm kind of attached to my place, though. Think you'd be able to live there for now? It would probably be less expensive, too." The unspoken words were clear: she would be more comfortable there.
"I would live in a cardboard box, so long as I was with you."
"How romantic."
"Really, though," Woody continued seriously, his voice low. "The lease on my apartment is up next month; I'll just not renew it. Are you sure you're okay with this? Really sure? I mean, it's a pretty big step."
"I'm sure." She chuckled and found one of his hands, squeezing it with her own. "Like you said earlier – I've gotten used to being with you. I don't really like the idea of having to be apart again; we've been through too much to let it go to waste now. I think you're on to something here, Farm Boy." She paused, taking a moment to think things through as the weight of their decision fell over her shoulders. "Could we start kind of slow, though? Maybe a few nights a week while you still have the lease? I seem to have a bad habit of self-destruction when things start getting serious, just in case you hadn't noticed."
Woody laughed softly at her attempted joke and rubbed his hand over her arm. "Of course. Whatever makes you happy."
Jordan had no idea how to respond to that, so she just closed her eyes and smiled.
xXx
Later that day, after changing the sheets and making sure Woody was comfortable in bed, Jordan drove herself over to the hospital to see Holly. She'd spoken with the woman's state-appointed psychiatrist the hour before, and was told that if she wanted to talk to her now was the time to do it. Holly had been on stabilizing medications since she had been admitted, finally lucid and clear-headed enough to understand what had happened.
Woody had wanted to go with her, but Jordan said no, telling him he needed to rest and not romp around the hospital with her. He had grudgingly agreed to stay behind. She felt a little weird, visiting Holly after seeing her at her worst, and she was honestly a bit relieved to be going alone. Finding a parking spot in the visitor's lot and getting a ticket, she made her way inside and took the elevator to the mental health ward – her least favorite floor of any hospital.
Holly was restrained in her bed, staring longingly out the window. The blinds had been raised, and bright afternoon sunlight was streaming in. When Jordan entered the room and the door had been locked behind her, Holly turned sad eyes to find her standing a few feet away.
"How are you feeling?" Jordan asked awkwardly.
Holly laughed humorlessly and raised her arms as far as they would go in their soft restraints. Her blond hair was matted and tangled around her head, and she didn't look like she'd had more than a sponge bath since she was admitted. "I've killed my husband – the man I loved more than anyone in the world – and almost took my best friend and your husband, too. How do you think I feel?"
"It wasn't your fault, Mrs. Whitaker," Jordan said softly, hurting for the woman lying on the bed in front of her. "You were taken advantage of."
"Call me Holly," she muttered. "I don't deserve the respect of titles. I should probably even take back my maiden name, after what I did to Paul." Feeling how torn apart she was, the medical examiner walked over to the side of the bed and undid one of the restraints. Holly watched her in surprise. "What are you doing?"
"You're not an animal, Holly. And as long as I'm in here, I won't let you be treated like one."
Tears formed in her eyes, and she used her freed hand to wipe them away, then hesitantly touch her hair and face. "Thank you."
Jordan smiled kindly at her before reaching into her purse and pulling out three photographs. One was Henry Sonders, taken before he was booked. The other was one Stone had pulled up of Dudley Evans, the dirty lawyer. The third was a random man arrested a few years ago for petty theft. "Are any of these men your doctor, Holly?" she asked gently, handing her the photographs.
Holly looked at each one carefully. "This man," she said quickly, holding up the one of Evans – the lawyer who was not a doctor at all. "I never liked him much. I recall thinking at first that he wasn't very good at his job."
Jordan took the photos back and pulled a chair toward the bed to sit down. "Why were you transferred to his care? Do you remember?"
"I don't…I don't know. My psychiatrist just gave me a referral one day; he didn't say why. What's going to happen to me?" The question was quiet and frightened, and the other woman took her hand and squeezed it in a show of support.
"I'm not sure," Jordan told her honestly. "But I don't think any murder charges will be drawn. Not against you, anyway. You may have to spend time in a state psychiatric hospital, though, at least until you can fully recover. You're going to be okay now, Holly. I promise."
Holly just stared at her, face pinched with painful emotions. "No, I'm not. I killed my husband. I am never going to be okay."
Jordan broke her gaze, knowing that what she said was true. Nothing would ever be the same for her again. This poor young woman had no one left – not anymore. "Would you like some company for a while?"
"Please."
And so Jordan sat there, holding Holly's hand as she cried for everything she had lost.
xXx
Not long after Jordan left, Woody rolled over in the bed and ran his hand over the spot she had occupied the night before. He knew the sheets there were new and cold now but, if he closed his eyes and imagined, he could still feel the warmth of her body so close to his. The thought alone was enough to thrill him.
He knew better than to ask her to marry him. Not yet. Maybe not for a few years. As much as he knew she loved him, that kind of commitment might still be enough to frighten her off. Try as he might to forget it, he could still vividly remember the sheer panic on her face when she learned – from him, incidentally – that Pollack had wanted to propose. Marriage was not something Jordan would take to easily, regardless of who would be standing at the altar with her.
So they would live together during the interim. Not a bad trade-out, really. Waking up beside her every morning, kissing her lips before work, having dinner together on the nights neither had to pull a double shift, talking with her in bed at night, holding her as they fell asleep. Loving her every chance he got. It was finally happening. Just like he had hoped it one day would since he first met her all those years ago.
Woody sat up in bed to reach for a glass of water on the bedside table. His stomach immediately flipped, and he cringed as a surge of nausea overtook him. Jordan had warned that he may have to deal with those side effects – dizziness, nausea, and headaches – for a few more days as his body fully purged the toxin from his blood. She'd left him instructions on how to take care of his himself, though, should he be sick while she was gone, and he reached for the paper she had written everything on.
"Headaches, take two ibuprofen," it read in her tidy doctor's script. "Nausea, take one zofran." He set the paper down and closed his eyes, trying to get his stomach settled enough to stand. She'd told him that both pill bottles were in her makeup bag on the bathroom counter, and she had even set another clean glass by the sink, just in case.
He was still kicking himself for getting into that whole situation with Holly. If he had stopped to think about it, if he had just called Jordan before he ran off… So many "if"s that could have prevented the whole thing. He was very aware that he would have died if Jordan hadn't been so close on his heels. He'd have to thank her for putting the pieces together so quickly – for saving his life yet again.
Forcing himself to stand, he made his way to the bathroom and braced his hands against the countertop while the room stopped spinning. Then he reached for her pink toiletry bag and unzipped it. Rather than being filled with makeup, as he was expecting, the bag was filled with pill bottles. Sure, there was a tube of mascara and some blush, but he counted at least six medications mixed in. Suddenly feeling like he was invading her privacy, he hesitantly pulled them out one by one to find the zofran. But unable to stop his curiosity, he glanced at a few of the others.
They'd all been prescribed by Doctor Skinner. And while he was unable to recognize any of the names, he knew with a sinking stomach that each one was given because of the tumor. The nausea flared again, this time for a completely different reason. He thought back, trying to remember if he had seen her take any of them. He recalled the two in her purse, but those were for her new headaches. These…she probably took these before her shower, or when she came in to brush her teeth. Sometime when the bathroom door was closed.
"God, Jo," he whispered, putting the bottles back with shaking hands.
I dodged a bullet, she had told him the night before in the diner. But it seemed now that she would never be given cover from the firing squad. It was just a matter of time before she was hit square in the chest and taken from him forever.