‘Jordan, please...’ she whispered, her hand white on the railing. She had managed one step down the stairs, but had then frozen.
‘Mila, look at me.’ He waited as she did so, letting those behind him pass as he stood with Mila. ‘You have to do this. The event depends on it. The vineyard depends on it. For my father.’
It was a low blow and he knew it, and he saw the responding flash of red in her eyes. But the look quickly fizzled out as he took her hand again, and was replaced by a combination of fear and...trust? he thought, and felt that punch in his gut again.
He couldn’t ponder why that look had that effect on him now, though, and instead focused on taking another step down, waiting for her to join him. After taking a breath, she did. He saw the temptation in her eyes to freeze again, and decided that distracting her would soften the tough-love approach.
‘Do you think it’s because we did everything so fast that we didn’t talk about our pasts?’ he asked her, and patted himself on the back when he saw confusion in her eyes at his change of topic.
‘That was a part of it.’ Her voice was shaky, but she had taken the next step with his encouragement. ‘But definitely not the biggest part.’
‘What do you mean?’
She rolled her eyes, and he thought vaguely that his attempt at distraction was working. Except that she was distracting him, too.
‘We told each other about the most important parts. You knew that I didn’t have any family, and that I grew up in foster care, and I knew that your mom had passed away from cancer.’
‘And we were just content with that...’ he said, more to himself than to her.
Ever since he had realised that there had been things in their relationship that were broken even before the accident, the more he saw them. Yes, they’d known the basics—like the fact that her father had died before she was born and her mother had died shortly after her birth—but he’d had no idea how that had made her feel. Just as she hadn’t known how his mother’s death had affected him. And how much he blamed himself for it.
‘You were,’ she scoffed, and took another step down, still leaning on him. ‘I wanted to know everything about you. About your father, your mother, your childhood... Everything,’ she repeated. ‘But you didn’t seem willing to offer the information...’
She took a deep breath, but he knew it had little to do with the fact that she was going down the stairs.
‘And I never wanted to push.’
He frowned. ‘You didn’t want to ask me about my life?’
She was silent for a moment. ‘I didn’t want to push you to give me any information you didn’t want to.’
‘Why not?’
She looked at him, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. ‘Because I didn’t want to tell you things either.’
It was a strange conversation to be having while she was facing her fears, he thought briefly, but in that moment the only thing that had his attention was what she was saying.
‘What didn’t you want to tell me?’
He felt her hand tighten, felt her resistance as she tried to pull away from him, but then she stopped. Maybe because she’d realised that pulling away from him would mean she would have to deal with her fear alone. Or maybe because she had chosen to be cordial and her refusal to answer his question would be going against that. But still she didn’t say anything.
‘Why did it embarrass you to tell me that you went to school here?’ he asked, with a sudden urgency lighting up inside him that made it imperative for him to know. The same urgency that told him that whatever she didn’t want to tell him about her life was somehow tied to that.
‘It didn’t,’ she replied quickly. Too quickly for someone who had only a few minutes ago stiffened next to him.
‘Mila...’ It was a plea—one that came from that urgency—and it seemed to make a dent in that defensiveness she’d always had about her past. One he was beginning to realise he had, too.
She let out a huff. ‘I just didn’t want you to think about my crappy unstable childhood when you’d had the complete opposite.’
‘That embarrassed you?’ he asked incredulously, and a wave of shame washed through him. Had he said something to her that had made her feel embarrassed about her childhood? Did she really think his had been so wonderful?
‘Yes, it did,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘You had an amazing home—one you could go to every day. You had a father who loved you. I had none of that.’
‘Why were you embarrassed by that?’
‘Because...’ She had reached the bottom of the stairs, but she didn’t seem to notice. She took another breath, and said, ‘Because it meant that I wasn’t worthy of someone like you.’
THE WORDS HAD already left Mila’s lips when she realised how much they revealed about her. She was annoyed that it was the second time she had disclosed something to Jordan that she hadn’t wanted him to know, even if it had made her feel better. Especially since the disturbed look on his face made her think that he didn’t feel like what she’d said.
‘Did you really believe that?’ he asked softly.
‘I did.’
Maybe I still do.
‘It doesn’t matter any more, though, does it?’
‘You’re wrong, you know.’ He shook his head. ‘I haven’t met anyone else I respect more than you. You didn’t have family, but you’re more loyal than any family member I can think of. Even me.’
He paused, and she thought that he was sacrificing his own comfort to make her feel better. It melted her heart.
‘You looked after my father when I couldn’t. Thank you.’
His words made her blush, and she mumbled, ‘You know you don’t have to thank me for that.’
‘I know you don’t think I need to—which just proves my point. You are worthy, Mila. I’m the one who isn’t worthy of you.’ He shook his head. ‘I didn’t have the childhood you thought I did.’
‘What do you mean?’
He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked down. The gesture made him look so defeated she wanted to hold him in her arms, but as she followed his gaze she realised she was looking at grass. She’d made it down the stairs!
‘I did it...’ she said to herself, not quite believing this victory, especially after the fear had paralysed her for over a year.
‘Yeah, you did.’
Jordan smiled at her, and for the first time since he had returned, she could tell that it was completely genuine, despite the look of disconcertion on his face.
‘I did it. I really did it.’
She felt like a fool when her eyes started tearing up, but she couldn’t help it. A small piece inside her that had broken after she’d lost her son had become whole, and it gave her a sense of peace. She felt relief, a sense of accomplishment, and so many other emotions she couldn’t even begin to put her finger on.
When she looked at Jordan, she saw that his frown had cleared, replaced by a