The Row

“I’m not saying that I won’t disappear until we figure this out. I’m not saying I’m here until we find out if your father is guilty or innocent,” Jordan gives voice to my fears. Then he brings my hand up, kisses the inside of my wrist again, waiting until I meet his eyes. And then he says the words that I never thought I would hear anyone say. “I’m saying I don’t care if your dad did it or not. I don’t care because it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I’m saying you never have to be anything more than just my friend, and I’ll still be here to help you. I’m saying I’m here for you as long as you want me around, Riley—no matter what.”


When he looks in my eyes, I believe him. In spite of all my parents’ lies and the fact that I just found out my dad is a cheater. In spite of the fact that everything between us started out balanced on a finely woven tangle of lies from both sides. In spite of all the reasons my mind gives me not to get any closer to him than I already am.

My heart wants to believe him, and although my heart has given me so many reasons not to trust it, somehow I still do.

“I believe you,” I whisper, reaching my free hand out and brushing his soft, dark hair out of his eyes.

“You do?” He looks like he isn’t sure he believes me and I can’t blame him.

“I do.” I pause, searching for the words I need to say in return. “I promise, but you have to trust me, too.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Jordan’s lips. “You make me nervous.”

“What?” I laugh.

His smile fades, but his gaze holds mine. “This whole situation scares me. This—what we’re doing—it could be dangerous. I’m scared that someday I may say something stupid to drive you away—and it would lead to you winding up dead somehow. I couldn’t take that again.” His face is full of the same emotions I’ve tried to hide from others: anger and sorrow, grief and pain, desire and desperation.

“What do you mean—again?” My fingers itch to reach out for him, but I force them to remain by my sides until I get the full explanation.

Jordan winces and presses his chin into his chest. I can tell he hadn’t meant for that word to slip out. Several seconds pass and I wait, biting my tongue, holding my breath.

When he finally looks up to answer, it feels like a knife going through my heart to see his eyes so full of pain. “I’ve never told anyone this … but my mom called me on the night she died, before she left the hospital. She said my dad wasn’t there to pick her up and she was going to be late. I—I was selfish and I made her feel guilty because it was going to make me late to hang out with some friends. It’s my fault that she borrowed someone’s car and left right away instead of waiting. It’s my fault she was driving that night. All mine. Now … I can’t ever take that back, Riley.”

Without thinking long enough to second-guess myself, I reach up and brush the fingers of my right hand against his cheek. He leans his head into my palm and closes his eyes tight against the onslaught of emotion. I try to reassure him. “You had no idea, Jordan. It was just a mistake. People make mistakes all the time.”

“I told her that her schedule was ruining my life.” He whispers the words, and his breath is hot against my wrist. “Those were the last words she ever heard from me. The last thing I can ever say to her.”

“She knows you better than to focus on that.” I’ve seen flashes of something painful that he’s been hiding, but I never dreamed he’d been keeping something like this buried. Something this painful, this poisonous—it can eat you from the inside out. It can turn you into someone else, and I can’t let that happen to Jordan. I bring my left hand up and place it on the other side of his face until he opens his eyes to look at me. “She wouldn’t want you punishing yourself for what you said. You know that, don’t you?”

I move my hands down to his neck, watching the shadows play across his cheekbones. His eyes hide nothing from me now. He is haunted and damaged and in pain, so much more than I knew. He hides his secrets better than I ever have, but he isn’t hiding them from me anymore. He’s trusting me with something he hasn’t told anyone else. Shouldn’t I be able to put the same kind of trust in him?

“What about you?” he whispers, and his voice is rough as it breaks through the quiet.

I consider dropping my hands back to my sides, but I can’t make myself let go of him yet. “What about me?”

“Do you know me better than that yet? Do you still want me punishing myself for not telling you who I was from the beginning?” He lowers his head so I can’t see his eyes anymore. “I never meant to hurt you. That has never been my intention. I’m still so sorry, Ri—”

Suddenly, I can’t stand to let him apologize again for something so stupid that I forgave him for a long time ago. I do what I’ve been trying not to think about doing every day for a while now. I kiss him. I pull his neck down, stand up on my tiptoes, and bring my lips up to his.

J. R. Johansson's books