Two Heartbeats on One Page

Chapter 37

"I love you." When the line went dead, Jordan sat still, quietly, for a few minutes, the phone still pressed against his ear as he stared, unfocused, at the wall.

He jumped when his text tone went off, and he checked his screen.

I can borrow the car but I have to have it home by 1.

Okay.

When Jordan finally placed the phone down on his bed, the soft jolt of his hand stopping against the sheets triggered something, and his eyes welled and his throat tightened and he dropped his face into his hands and cried. The walls to the apartments in this building were thin, so he tried to be quiet. Despite having lived there for so long, he didn't know any of his neighbors, but he still didn't want them to hear him fall apart.

His eyes burned, like someone had ground coarse salt into them, and his air came in short, unsteady, wheezing gasps that didn't do much but make him dizzy.

Nothing had changed, and Jordan knew that. He'd lost his grandma years ago. But even though it was unrealistic and would never happen, he'd still been hoping, somewhere, that things would change, that she'd come around even if his parents and brother wouldn't.

And now she was dying, still hating him.

She probably didn't want to see him. According to Vince, she was still saying terrible things about him and his transition. He didn't know if she knew he'd been on hormones. She definitely didn't know about the surgery. She might not even recognize him.

Even if she did, she might kick him out anyway.

But he had to at least say goodbye. Even if she hated him. Even if she cursed him out. He had to at least try.

He managed to get himself back under control and clean himself up to be mostly presentable by the time Darcey arrived. He knocked, even as he let himself in, to announce his presence. Jordan was still barefoot and shirtless and he stood as the door closed, meeting Darcey halfway across the room. He pulled Jordan into a tight hug and only whispered, "I'm sorry, Jordan."

There were no 'it's okay's or 'we'll figure it out's because both of them knew that none of it was true. But Darcey was there, and it eased the pain, even if only a little.

"Have you eaten yet?" he asked. "Do you even want to?"

"Not really," Jordan murmured. He rubbed the back of his arm across his face and sniffled one more time, then added, "I could really use a cup of tea, though. Do you want some?"

"I'm okay," Darcey said. "Want me to join you in the kitchen?"

Jordan nodded. Darcey followed.

They were quiet as Jordan filled and put on the kettle, leaning back on opposite counters, feet out and almost close enough to touch. Jordan reached for his gunpowder green, part of a welcome back gift basket from some of his coworkers. It was loose leaf, so he grabbed a spice bag to measure it into, too. He turned his back on Darcey to watch the kettle, even though he'd be able to hear it across the apartment, and he tapped the top of the tin, hollow and metallic in the quiet kitchen. After a few minutes of quiet punctured only by the tap, tap, tapping, Darcey stepped up behind him, placing his hand on Jordan's hip and pulling him a little closer. But he still gave Jordan his space and Jordan was so grateful for that, because even though he wanted Darcey to wrap him up in his arms and never let go, it would be too much right now, and he would break down again.

"Things were going so well," he finally whispered, almost a whimper, a whine of protest. "With my promotion and the surgery and everything going so well in my new position. With you finding a job you can really thrive in and finding Puff. Your insurance and everything being reinstated." He paused and took in a shaky breath. "What happened?"