Page 1 of Burn Point

Chapter 1

Jordan

“Jordan Ashley, I swear. It’s like pulling teeth to get you to talk to me sometimes.”

My mother’s voice pierced my ear. Thank God she couldn’t see my eyes roll through the phone line. Conversations with her were a test of my nerves.

“Mom, I don’t have anything to say. I don’t want to talk about Gerry. We’ve been broken up for months and still, he’s all you want to talk about.” I gritted my teeth in frustration.

The late March evening air was thick with humidity and unseasonably warm as I relaxed in my favorite rocking chair with my feet propped on my front porch rail. I sipped a much-needed glass of wine, studying the high white cirrus clouds in the bright blue sky. On the horizon, lofty clouds melded into a deeper, darker blue-gray, but the neighborhood was alive with people enjoying the break from cold rainy days, out walking dogs, enjoying a late run. The squeals of children echoed in the distance.

The green of fresh spring grass provided a vibrant backdrop for the last of the jonquils that had been in full bloom since I’d moved in last month. But all the beauty surrounding me couldn’t override the frustration that a conversation with my mother brought on.

“He’s a good man, Jordan. You should try to work things out with him,” she continued, ignoring my request to drop the subject. Her ludicrous statement sent me right over the edge.

“Mom, are you serious right now? He cheated on me.” I threw my free hand up in disbelief. This was why I kept my conversations with my mother to a minimum.

She was delusional.

I drained my wine to calm down, then took a deep breath to gather the right words.

“Mom, a good man is one who takes care of the people in his life. He doesn’t cheat, or lie, or try to place blame on anyone else. A good man takes responsibility for his actions. Gerry is not a good man.” I hated the tremble in my voice. Why was it so necessary to her that I have a man in my life?

She huffed into the phone. Of course, she didn’t agree with me. My mother had relied on men for most of my life, each choice she made based on what they could provide for her.

“Well. At least when you were with him, you had a stable income and a place to live, instead of renting some two-bit shack in the backwoods. I swear. You are just like your father. Taking off at the drop of a hat, with no backup plan. Just living your life by the seat of your pants.”

Not this again.

How many times had I heard this? If I’d thought she could be reasonable, I would’ve told her the truth about my move.

Coming to this small town south of Atlanta had been a last-ditch effort to start over. A safe place for me to sink into something peaceful while I figured out my next steps after coming home to find my fiancé in bed with another woman. Quitting my day job as a copy editor for a marketing firm in Washington, DC, had come next, followed by moving to the one place that had been constant in my childhood.

Growing up as a Navy brat had meant lots of moving around and no lasting friendships. Starting over in a new place was normal for me. But visiting Grandma in Newman, Georgia, had been the place I could always return to and know that life hadn’t been rearranged.

In the weeks I’d been here, I’d concentrated on building my freelance editing business. I had a couple of new clients, and my calendar was filling. I still had enough money saved to last a bit longer before I needed to worry about getting a part-time job to supplement my income.

I had a roof over my head, transportation, and enough business to keep me busy. Things were finally looking up and through hard work, I’d made my dream a reality. Why would I want to get back with the man who made me feel like total shit? Who’d brought me so low? How could my mother even suggest it?

“Mom, I need to let you go,” I said flatly. The sooner I could end this call, the better.

“I just worry about you, Jordan. You shouldn’t be alone.” And that was the crux of her issues, because the woman had never learned to just…be alone. “What’re you going to do if something bad happens?”

“I’m fine, Mom. If something happens, I’ll take care of it. Look, I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you soon.” I hung up quickly, cutting off her goodbye.

I hated this push-pull feeling I had when I talked to her. I loved her, sure, but she was hard to talk to because she always overreacted. Our disagreement over my independence didn’t help matters much.

She didn’t understand my need for independence, and I never understood how she could jump from man to man, without ever living her own life. Just once, I’d like her simply to be proud of me—of the strong, independent woman I’d become.

Regardless of her opinion, I was happy living on my own.

Looking for a distraction from my troublesome mother, I scrolled through my Instagram feed, clicking on photos from my favorite van-lifer. How awesome would it be to have that lifestyle, to work from anywhere? To see and experience so many new and wonderful places?

Setting my phone on silent and placing it on the chair next to me, my gaze landed on a sweet labradoodle puppy learning to walk on a leash.

“Good evening.” His owner, a cute older woman sporting short, curly hair, waved at me as she passed.

“He’s doing much better,” I called to her, waving back.

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