When Sparks Fly (93 page)

But it has changed. It’s broken and I’m not sure it can ever be fixed.

I gaze into his eyes. He’s not looking at me, just staring off into nothingness.

Finally, his eyes drop to mine. I smile and for a second I see a flicker of the happiness I used to see in his face. But he quickly frowns.

“Why do you hate me, Grant?”

Deep creases line his forehead and he stares at me like I have three heads.

“You’re a smart girl, Jordyn. I’m sure you can figure it out.” He looks away.

I drop my head. “Chicago.”

“Bingo.”

“I sent you a letter explaining everything that happened that weekend and the months after. Didn’t you get it?”

“Yeah, I got it. It doesn’t change anything.”

The music ends. Grant steps away from me and walks off the dance floor. I didn’t realize how much I was leaning on him for support until he let me go. I stumble backwards, bumping up against Beeper and Cindy.

“Whoa, there.” Beeper steadies me, gently wrapping his hands around my upper arms. “You okay, Jordyn?” He tosses a look at Grant, taking a seat next to Carly. “Did he push you or something?”

“No, nothing like that. I guess I’m just not very graceful in heels.” I try to laugh it off. Beeper’s lips are pursed tightly together and he continues to stare at Grant. “I better go sit down before I hurt someone.”

He releases me and Cindy gives me a small smile. They seem so nice. My heart tears a little more with the realization that we could all have been friends if things had worked out.

But Grant read my letter and doesn’t care. And that shreds me.

I walk past my table and out the door. I can’t do it anymore. My heart is broken. My back is about to give out. And I’m just done. An open door leads into an empty conference room, so I duck in there and take off my shoes. My lower back seizes.

I suck in a deep breath, waiting for the pain to pass and the muscles to release. It’s quickly getting to a point of no return, where I’ll be unable to walk. I need to get back to my room and rest. Get off my feet, and let my back heal.

I need just another minute to gather strength and make it back up to the suite. Carlos will be there. He’ll help me.

“Jordyn.” Grant is standing in the doorway and I’m instantly filled with resentment.

“What, Grant? What could you possibly want from me?”

“I want to know why?”

“You read the letter. What more do you need to know that wasn’t explained in the countless number of pages I sent?”

Another burst of red hot pain stabs into my back. I grasp one of the chairs and suck in a deep breath.

“Oh, you mean the letter where you tell me it was all you and not me. That I’m a great guy and someday I will find a woman who deserves me? Yeah, I got your letter. I didn’t read it.”

“What? Why?” He might as well have sucker punched me. He didn’t read the letter. He has no idea the pain I went through. The months of rehab. The loss of my very identity and life. He doesn’t know any of it.

“I didn’t need to. I heard everything I needed to hear from Jeremy. At least he was straight with me.”

“Jeremy?” My knees buckle and I hold onto the chair with both hands.
What the hell?

“Oh, he didn’t tell you I called on Valentine’s Day? Can’t really blame him, I guess. Wouldn’t have been the best way to propose – bringing up the guy you fucked countless times over Fourth of July weekend. The guy who was actually stupid enough to think it was more.”

Oh, God, he called on Valentine’s Day… and Jeremy answered my phone.

My legs are going numb, which would be a welcome reprieve from the pain, except that I’m not entirely sure how much longer I will be able to hold myself up.

“So,” Grant continues. “What is this weekend? On another break from Jeremy? Thought you’d see if you could have one last fling before you tied the knot? Were you hoping to get back with me this weekend – or one of the other guys?”

“No, Grant…” Pain stabs me in the lower back, ravaging my extremities. I know I won’t make it back to my room on my own.

“Did Jeremy come here to win you back? Again? Well, he can have you. I’m done with your mind games.”

I reach out for him. “Wait, please…”

“No, Jordyn. I already waited at that damn fountain in the middle of Chicago. You never showed up. Never called. Didn’t even have the decency to answer my voicemails and texts.” He takes in a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. “I’m done waiting for you.”

He walks out the door… and out of my life.

I fall to the floor, unable to hold myself up anymore. Tears flow and I can barely see. My cell phone skitters out of my reach.

I’m stuck. Paralyzed. Alone.

All I want is to curl into a ball. I wish I had never come out of that damn coma.

*

Grant

I’m halfway across the lobby when I stop. There’s something else I need from her. I have to know if she ever felt anything real for me – or if I was just a substitute while she and Jeremy worked through their issues.

I step back into the room. “So, just tell me one thing…”

She’s lying on the floor, gasping for air.

My world halts. Fear rushes through me. Two quick steps and I drop to my knees at her side. “Christ, Jordyn. What the hell happened?”

She turns her head to me. Tears stream down her face.

“I can’t walk, Grant.”

“Okay.” I place my hands under her arms. “I’ll help you up.”

“I can’t move.” She’s sobbing, her head dropping down to her chest.

What the fuck?

“What can I do? Can I carry you?” I ask.

She nods.

I place one arm around her back and the other under her knees and stand up.

She cries out, and then buries her head in the crook of my neck.

“I’m sorry, Jordyn. I don’t know what to do that won’t hurt you.”

“I’m okay,” she whispers, but I know by the death grip on my jacket lapel that she’s in some serious pain.

“I’ll get you up to my room and you can rest.”

“No, I need Carlos. He has my meds.” She lifts her head and I gaze into her eyes, so full of pain, and hurt, and need. She needs me and I don’t care if this is real or not, I have to help her. I can’t stand to see her like this.

“Where’s Carlos?”

“My suite – 902.” She lowers her head and takes in a ragged breath.

A hotel employee walks in and looks at me, his eyebrows knitting together. “She isn’t feeling well. Can you please get the cell phone and shoes off the floor and have them delivered to suite 902, please?”

I walk past him, not waiting for an answer and head for the elevators. When I knock on her door, a woman opens it. Her eyebrows scrunch together, her eyes big and wide as they fall on Jordyn. “Carlos, get in here. Quick.”

A Hispanic man comes from one of the bedrooms, rushing to my side as soon as he sees Jordyn. “Here, get her to the couch,” he says, guiding me into the room. “It’ll be best if you can just sit, holding her until I can administer a shot.” He disappears into the bedroom again.

The woman is at my side, trying to help me sit down. “Are you Grant?”

“Uh, yeah.” I’m not sure what else to say. Or how she knows my name.

The man returns with a small black case. He sits on the edge of the couch beside me, loading a syringe. I cut my eyes over to him when he unzips Jordyn’s dress.

He glances up at me. “You’re going to need to hold her still. This is going to be uncomfortable for her at first, but the pain meds usually kick in pretty quick.”

I nod and tighten my grip around her waist. Jordyn cries out when the needle goes in, and buries her head deeper into my chest.

“I’ve got you, Jordyn,” I whisper. A minute or two later she relaxes against me, her breathing slow and even. She looks as if she’s fallen asleep.

“We can put her to bed, so you don’t have to keep holding her,” the woman says. Her voice is soft and she has a small smile on her face. She’s pretty, but doesn’t hold a candle to Jordyn’s beauty.

I keep Jordyn close. I can’t let go of her, not yet. It feels too good to hold her again. And besides, the longer I stay, the better chance I have to ask questions. “That’s okay, I don’t want to move her.”

“Okay. Um, I’m Dusty, by the way, and this is Carlos.” She gestures towards the man.

He moves over to a chair, putting things back into the black case, and placing the small used syringe into a paper bag. He glances up at me. “I’m Jordyn’s physical therapist.”

“Physical therapist? Why does she need a physical therapist – that travels with her? What happened?” Things are coming too fast for me to make sense of – Jordyn collapsing, not able to move. Her personal physical therapist giving her shots in the back.

“Well, it’s not my story to tell, really, and I think you need to direct your questions to her. Seeing as she is a bit out of it and will be until the morning, however, I can tell you this much. She was hit by a car and was in a coma for about three months. When she came out of it, she experienced amnesia. Her memories only returned a few months ago. As for needing a physical therapist, she’s still recuperating from some lower back injuries affecting the muscles and nerves around her sciatica.”

I’m clammy and cold and sick to my stomach. Nausea flows through me like a wave.
Car accident. Coma. Amnesia
. It all hits me, knocking the air out of my lungs.

“Where? Where did this happen?” I barely manage to get out.

Carlos stares at me for a few seconds before he says, “Chicago.”

Oh, god… I’ve been so wrong
. I thought the worst of her – never considered that something had happened to her. What if her injuries had been more severe? What if she had died?

I drop my head, losing myself in the soft curls on the top of her head. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur.

I let it all sink in. Drinking her in.

Carlos clears his throat. “Do you need help getting her into bed?”

I shake my head. “No, I can handle it.” I scoot to the edge and stand, keeping Jordyn tight against my body.

“Okay, well, we’ll be in our room if you need anything.”

I walk into the other bedroom, flip on the light, and lay her on the bed. I’m able to get her out of her dress, decide not to worry about pajamas, and just pull the covers over her. I turn off the light, peeking at her one last time before I close the door.

Carlos is grabbing water bottles from the in-room fridge.

“Hey, do you have a room key I could borrow for a few minutes. I want to run to my room and grab some stuff.” I look back at Jordyn’s bedroom door. “I’m going to stay with her tonight. I don’t want to leave her alone.”

I’m pretty sure I don’t need to explain myself, but feel compelled to anyway. Carlos walks over to a small table and grabs a keycard off it, handing it to me.

“Yeah, this is Jordyn’s. The guy from the front desk just dropped it off, along with her shoes and cell phone.”

“Great, thanks. I should just be a few minutes.”

Carlos nods and walks past me to his room. “We’re going to bed. See you in the morning.”

Once in my room, I grab some clothes from my suitcase and rummage through the zippered pocket in the front. Down at the bottom is the letter Jordyn had written me. The one I never read. It’s time to read it, and find out what the hell happened to her.

‡
Chapter Three

Jordyn