*Jordan

I wake up in the ambulance and drift in and out as they take me to the hospital. Doctors ask questions, poking me, stretching me out for x-rays. I make myself answer. I hold myself still.

Before almost hitting the oncoming car, I accused Cole of being nothing but trouble. I looked at my bruised body and trembling hands. Eryn would find out I caused an accident and tell her mother. They would tell Trey. Everything I've tried to do in my whole life is broken, and I'm the only one to blame.

The window in my room darkens from blue to orange and then to purple. As I watch, it's turning black. Sharon knocks a knuckle on the door frame and comes straight in, bustling with energy and worry, knocking me back to reality.

She shakes her head. "Dangnabit, babe, you look like hell. Why did you go and have an accident? I told you not to do things like that."

"I know," I say, smiling despite my aches and pains. "Call it my rebellious streak, call it a desperate cry for your undivided attention and love, call it what you will. I screwed up." It's too hard to keep the joke running and as soon as the last words come out of my mouth, it hits me how true they are. I screwed it all up.

Tear sting in my eyes and Sharon slides onto the bed next to me, reaching out her arms. I lean into her hug, grateful.

"My little girl is all grown up. She's finally become a real adult and sees she can't be perfect all the time. You are just as flawed and normal as the rest of us. I'm really glad you didn't get injured, though. Besides that bump on your forehead."

She squeezes me a bit tight and I suck in my breath in pain.

"I'm sorry!" she cries. "Did the seat belt hurt you?" Before I can answer, she's tugging at my hospital gown and peering at my torso. "Yep. I see the stripe. I had one just like it..."

Her voice trails off and I push my gown in place. Her gaze travels up to my face and her expression has changed. "Did someone hit you? Because there's a bruise that's older than the red stripe. Now, I've been around my brothers and their stupid friends for years, and I've seen my share of fights. I've seen those boys the next day, walking around without their shirts on."

I don't say anything. I shake my head weakly and try to look confused.

"Who heck-fire hit you, Jordan? Because I'm going to have to find him. I've got five brothers to help me dispose of the body, all I need is the name."

I swallow, my mouth is dry and I've gone cold.

"The name, now." She's dead serious. She already has her phone out to call her brothers. "Was it that new guy? Cole?"

"No," I gasp. I have to head her off that trail. "You're right. Someone did hit me. Things happened, but I'm all right and it wasn't Cole. Quite the opposite. Please believe me."

She shakes her head. "It was him, I was right. How do you fall in the scum of the earth, like that? You are the sweetest, most wonderful—" Her voice breaks off in an angry grunt. She stands up, lips pressed tight and cheeks flaming. "Where is he now?"

"Sharon, listen to me. If I tell you who really did it, do you promise not to hire your brothers as hit men?"

"Yes. I promise my brothers won't kill him. It will be me who kills the guy."

I take her hand so she'll look at me. I have to tug hard. "Listen. It was Brandon. I drove home the other day and he was there. He started ranting about how he actually loved me all these years and I should be with him. When I didn't go along with it, he punched me. But you can't touch him."

"All right. Of course. I don't have to touch him to finish him." She shoulders her purse and I grab her shirt tail.

"Sharon, you can't touch him, he has too many friends and family on the police force."

She swivels to take my hands, eyes blazing in anger. "That isn't a free pass to beat women. Stop making excuses for men who hurt you, Jordan. Stop letting them get away with it."

"Who have I let get away with it?"

"Crapola, Jordan, look at yourself. Do you really think I'm an idiot that I can't figure things out? You might refuse to admit it, but I have seen bad things happening in your life. I know something was wrong in your house when you were a kid and it was just your dad and you girls. And Trey? Don't get me started. I've patched you up. I've put ice on your bruises, and you would say you fell down some stairs. Fudgesicles to this. And now Brandon? But no one can touch him because of his connections? Who will the next guy be? Cole?"

"No," said a deep voice from the door.

We both startle, surprised.

Cole is in the doorway, arms crossed, and jaw tight. "It won't be me. Not ever."

"Do you know about Brandon?" Sharon asks, too worked up to take time for hello.

He exhales audibly, studying her. He doesn't look at me and it's wrecking me. I want him to rush over and kiss me, but I also want to yell at him to leave. I am falling in love with him—I have already fallen so hard in love that I'm a stain on the ground. But I have to cut him out of my life before our brokenness destroy each other. He won't stay in this town—he can't, it would drive him mad. And I can't let him, it would push Trey away for good.

"I've been trying to get in touch with Jordan all day about the...discussion...I had with Brandon," he says.

"Good," she says.

"What?" I sit up too abruptly, tearing at my bruised ribs and muscles. "What the hell did you do, Cole? Ruin my life a little bit more than it already is?"

His nostrils flare and he steps inside the room. Pain flickers across his face—I can't help but notice. My hands twist in my lap, catching and abusing the thin cloth of the hospital robe.

Sharon huffs in annoyance. "Jordan, I don't understand you."

"It's simple," I tell her. "There is one thing that matters in my life, and that's getting Emma back. That's it. I won't apologize. Unfortunately, I don't have a lot of options, or room to maneuver. I can hope the police find her, but they really don't seem too motivated. Or I can prove to this town, and to Trey that I'm the best option for her. The second he gets tired of punishing me, because I don't amuse him anymore, he'll drop her off somewhere and she'll come home."

"Jesu—" Cole starts.

"That," Sharon says, interrupting him with a wave of her arm. "Is a load of bullfrog. And you know it. You will never be good enough for him, never be the perfect, saintly mother that will make him change his mind."

"Thanks. You can leave now," I say. My heart is in tatters—I'm never going to be good enough, my best friend confirms it.

"You know what I mean, Jordan. He's a monster, and he will never get tired of being horrible to you. It doesn't matter what you do."

"I said go." I refuse to look at her.

Cole takes her arm gently, murmuring something, but she shakes him off, frustrated.

"You're telling me to go? The one person who has been there for you through every high and low for ten years? Me?"

"Don't do this to me now," I say. I'm falling to pieces and I don't want her or Cole to see me.

"I will do this to you now." Sharon shushes Cole, who's standing behind her whispering, and points a finger at me. "I love you. I love you like a true sister, a sister who stays by your side and fights for you, instead of running away like your other two sisters. I have seen you survive crap that would have destroyed me. Somehow, you keep your head high. But I have also watched you lie to yourself for years. You cannot convince Trey to give you Emma by being the submissive, perfect, self-erasing wife that he wanted you to be. You will never win this way. He isn't here. He doesn't see you, and yet you are letting him win in every way, and it's killing me. Let yourself live. Let yourself love. And for Puck's sake, let yourself make mistakes."

"Are you done"? I ask, my voice stone cold to my ears.

She opens her mouth, but then snaps it shut. She drops her hands in defeat. "I guess I am."

"I can't afford mistakes, in any sense of the term. Please go, I need to talk to Cole."

"All right. I'm gone."

"Sharon—"

She stalks from the room without a backward glance.

Nausea churns my stomach and the weight of what I've just done curves my shoulders. Suddenly, Cole is there, cradling my head to him. His hands are in my hair and warm on my back, and he tells me that it will be all right—I'll figure things out.

I breathe in his warm, sea-spiced scent and let him hold me. I let him be my strength, and it feels wonderful. But it has to end. I have to end us.

*** Thank you for reading! More updates coming!!! ***