Jordan wiped her hand across her forehead. “Wow. I can’t believe it.” She reached for my hands. “Carly Ryan is your mom?”
I didn’t say anything, just lifted my brows in a ‘what can you do’ kind of way.
“Wow,” she said again. For a few seconds she didn’t say anything and then she looked at me and frowned. “All that stuff you told me- You don’t see her? The checks on National Rubber Duckie Day?” She touched my cheek. “That’s gotta be hard.”
I turned my face into her palm. “It’s not. I don’t remember anything ever being different than it is right now. I don’t hate her. I don’t blame her. In her way, I know she loves me.”
“Does anybody know? Nobody knows?” She shook her head with disbelief.
“People know. She hasn’t hidden me. You could Google her and I show up as her kid on wiki sites. All my friends back in Minnesota know. But I’m not around her much and never in public. There aren’t many pictures of us together.” The only one I’d ever seen on the internet was taken when I was about ten. You couldn’t even see my face. She was hugging me after one of her concerts, the only one my dad ever took me to. She’s talked about me in interviews. I try not to watch them. It makes her sad to talk about me. I know she has regrets. It’s easier to forgive her if I don’t dwell on it.
“I can’t wrap my head around it.”
I watched her closely. It always felt like a gamble, letting people in. Would Jordan act different around me now she knew? Would she expect things from me? My mom might be rich and famous, but that didn’t me I had access to her wealth or fame. And I didn’t want to. Sure, if I needed something, I knew she’d come through. But I didn’t call her up asking for things all the time.
“It’s cool. Thank you for inviting me to the concert. I’m sure we’ll have fun.”
That was it? I wrapped my arms around her and pulled the blanket more securely around us. “You’re not all weirded out?”
Jordan shook her head. “Nope. I mean, wow. But she isn’t really a part of your life.” She leaned against me, laying her ear against my chest over my heart. “Knowing who your mom is doesn’t change who you are. And I’m more interested in you.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, rolling onto my back and pulling her with me.
“Really,” Jordan giggled.
“What exactly are you interested in?”
Jordan’s eyes sparkled in the soft light from the moon. “I’m interested in this.” She kissed my chin. “And this.” Her lips grazed my jaw. “And this.” She reached for my cheek, but I turned my head so she kissed my lips instead. She giggled against them, but only for a moment before I deepened the kiss.
Forget falling. I’d already fallen.
EPILOGUE
Jordan
Two year later
Asher: Where are you?
Me: Calm down. We’re almost there.
Asher: I can’t see you.
Me: There are thirty thousand people here!
Asher: Just hurry. I need to see you. I swear I’m going to throw up.
Me: I’m coming, babe. Just breathe.
I could picture Asher pacing backstage. Jarom and the other guys never seemed to get as nervous for some reason, but Asher turned into a complete basket case just before walking on stage. Of course, this show would be unlike anything Breakout had ever done before. Tonight was their first night opening for Carly Ryan on her new tour.
As Carly’s security guys carved a path for me to the seat reserved for me, front and center of the stage, I thought back to the night two years ago when Asher made good on his promise to Payton and took us to see Carly’s concert. We’d collected our tickets at will call and almost immediately Carly’s assistant, Amanda, appeared out of nowhere and ushered us backstage where we met Payton’s favorite band, Carbine. We spent about ten starstruck minutes talking to Carbine before their set started. Once they left to go onstage, Amanda escorted us to Carly’s dressing room.
Asher hugged his mom, his clammy hand still gripping mine. He wouldn’t let me go. He acted tough, but seeing her wasn’t as easy for him as he let on.