“Skating is a workout on its own,” Jordan said as he turned off the engine.
They trudged up to the porch, and Alicia wrapped her coat tighter around her. The chill in the air stung in her chest with every inhale. Clouds spanned the sky above the wide-open ranch.
“I think I’ll sit out here for a little bit. Want to keep me company?” Alicia asked.
Jordan held up a hand. “Let me get you a blanket.” He disappeared inside and came back a few seconds later with a thick blanket.
He wrapped it around Alicia, and she sat on the bench swing. Jordan sat beside her, and she swung the blanket over him.
Jordan hesitated but finally accepted the blanket, scooting closer to her so they could share.
“I’m exhausted,” Alicia whispered.
“It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, but I keep thinking about that interview. I’ve had bad interviews before, but I’ve never frozen up like that. Now I’m hating on myself for breaking down like I did.”
“They were talking about things you’d recently gone through. The wounds are probably still raw.”
She picked at a stitch on the blanket. “I still don’t know what to think about Mom and Dad. Getting over Ashton has been a lot easier than I expected. I always knew he wasn’t emotionally invested in our relationship, but my parents…”
When her sentence trailed off, Jordan whispered, “I don’t understand how they could have done that to you.”
“Mom and Dad like money. It’s why they had Stacy and me audition forFamily First. Losing the money isn’t as bad as losing that trust.”
“I don’t understand how they could have done that either. I mean, you might have liked acting, but knowing they were motivated by money makes it–”
“Icky. You can say it. They used the money to hire nannies who took care of us most of the time. We had tutors, assistants, and someone paid to be with us twenty-four-seven. My parents came around when the cameras showed up.”
Jordan rested his arm on the swing behind her. “I hate that they treated you like that.”
Alicia hated it too, but it didn’t change the fact. His family was building her up when she’d been slowly sinking. “Being here with you and your family really showed me what I missed out on. They’re great, you know that?”
“I do. They’ve been there for me through everything.” He sighed, releasing a foggy breath into the cold. “I haven’t been home in a while. I always thought I’d come back for good one day, but I didn’t know I’d come back like this.”
Alicia wrapped her arms tighter around her. “I feel like that’s my fault.”
Jordan’s arm rested on her shoulders and pulled her in. “That’s not what I meant. I thought I’d retire from the Marine Corps, then settle down here. It just didn’t pan out that way. I also felt bad coming here after the incident.”
“Why?” she whispered against his shoulder.
“Because I lost a leg. My friend lost everything. He died in the explosion.”
Alicia tightened her grip on the blanket and swallowed past the tightness in her throat. “I didn’t know.”
“Our mission was recon, so we were on the front lines. Neither of us were hit directly, but…”
She pressed her cheek against his chest. “You don’t have to tell me, but you can if you want. It must be hard to relive it.”
She didn’t have any idea what that would be like.
But she did, in a way. Her parents not only left her but stole from her as they fled. They hadn’t been ripped from her like Jordan’s friend. Her parents made a choice. They chose to walk away, taking a part of her heart and hope with them.
There were few people she clung to in her life, and losing any of them would be terrible. Her sister. Lillian. Now, Jordan and his family.
Alicia didn’t want to imagine life without any of them, but her international tour started in March, and between rehearsals and interviews, she’d be going nonstop for months with no way out. The path was already decided for her. Those months of her life were locked into a service, and she couldn’t back out.
She scooted closer to Jordan, and his arm tightened around her. She’d always loved the lights and performing. Writing songs and singing new ones lit a fire inside her that had kept her going through many lonely years.