“It won’t be the same,” she finally answered. “And I might not be as good.”

  Taylor’s gaze cut into her soul, and she felt the need to continue.

  “More than anything, I just don’t play—or even come out to this court anymore—because it reminds me of all that I had, all that I lost, all that I’ll never have again.”

  “Things are always going to change,” Taylor declared, “but that doesn’t mean you’ll never have it again. It will just be different, but it will still be the game that you love. Fight for yourself a little bit more, Jordan. I believe in you.”

  Jordan had looked away, but she let the words resonate within her spirit. Taylor believed in her and thought she was strong. While she had always thought she was strong, that feeling had been somewhat stripped in recent months.

  “Don’t forget how strong you are,” Taylor had whispered before hugging Jordan and walking away to grab a bottle of water.

  As Jordan sat in the empty room, she again heard Taylor’s final whisper.

  She wouldn’t forget how strong she was, and once she figured out what she wanted—and what she loved—she was confident that this time she would fight for herself.

  For the time being, though, she had no idea what she really wanted or needed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  After a quick stop at a convenience store for a soda, Taylor put on her oversized sunglasses and hit the road.

  She couldn’t stay in this tiny town—not this weekend, not when all she wanted to do was go kick down Janelle’s door and demand that she stop playing such wicked little games with an innocent like Jordan.

  Sure, Jordan was easily led. Scared people always were. It was a tactic used by many—from dictators to those conducting the types of therapy Taylor was sure Janelle wanted to practice on Jordan.

  She shuddered at the thought of “anti-gay” therapy. It was such a small-minded notion, and one that she would never have willingly submitted to, but this was Jordan’s decision. For what felt like the hundredth time, she had to remind herself that she couldn’t save Jordan. That would have to be her own doing, should she choose it.

  For now, Taylor was going to make herself scarce.

  With each passing mile, she felt the magnetic pull and could almost physically feel the pain of leaving Jordan behind in that awful place. More than anything, she wanted to take Jordan with her, but that was impossible.

  Trying to channel her inner optimism, she refused to cry. Still, the reality was crushing. At this very moment, a meddling counselor was attempting to cure Jordan of her love for Taylor, and Jordan was willingly allowing it. The truth of the matter was that Jordan wanted to be cured.

  Taylor’s heart fell again as she replayed that truth over and over in her mind. A sudden feeling of hopelessness flooded her entire being, and she feared that there would come a day when Jordan wouldn’t even want to see her, let alone love her.

  She couldn’t explain her intense connection to the girl, but she knew that it would be the hardest thing she would ever get over.

  Turning up her music as loud as it would go, she decided that would be the goal of this weekend away. After all, she was going back to the one place she felt at home. Out of all the places she had lived, only Oklahoma was home.

  Determined to put it all behind her, she watched the landscape as the miles passed. The golden wheat fields of rural Kansas caught the sunlight and gave her a glint of hope. Each small town and city had its unique buildings and people milling around, all reminding her that everyone had their own story. As she crossed into Oklahoma and cattle filled the pastures along the side of the road, she took comfort in the fact that these were familiar roads, and she was on her way home. Nonetheless, she couldn’t deny that her heart was at war with her mind. While she wasn’t sure she wanted to forget and move on, she knew good and well that it was probably her only chance at escaping with a shred of sanity left.

  Pretty girls were always the downfall of an otherwise smart and strong person, she reflected. It seemed that the pretty, smart, and funny ones, however, might just be the cause of sheer insanity.

  As dusk fell, and the air cooled down somewhat, Taylor rolled down the windows to drink in some of the fresh, country air. Although it smelled of cattle and alfalfa hay, she relished it as though it was a long-lost friend.

  When she finally pulled into her old friend’s driveway, she sat for a minute, remembering life before Jordan. Lately it seemed like everything had spiraled out of control. Ever since that beauty walked into her life, she had been upside down and inside out. Even now her thoughts drifted away to those green eyes and those soft lips—and the tenderness with which they caressed Taylor’s own lips. She sighed, pushing the thoughts away.

  Back home, she knew the hammer was about to drop, and she didn’t want to be anywhere near when it did. This was no time for her superhero complex to come roaring in to save the day. Nor was it any time to look her parents in the eye and see their disappointment and judgment. It was simply the time for a little bit of rest, relaxation, and remembering what was important in life.

  Before she could get out of the truck, she saw her oldest friend Amy bound down the steps of the house, her blond hair blowing in the breeze, fully capturing her free-spirited approach to life that had initially bonded them so closely as kids. When she was in plain view, Taylor could see the smile spread across her face. Even though a year had passed since they had seen each other, nothing had changed. Amy didn’t look a day over twenty-three, and she looked genuinely happy. For a brief second, Taylor envied that.

  “Taylor!” she exclaimed, bringing a smile to Taylor’s face. “I’m so happy to see you,” she added, opening the driver’s side door before Taylor could do so herself.

  Taylor was about to share the sentiment when a look of concern clouded Amy’s eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Right there, suddenly feeling the support system she had been missing, Taylor felt tears stream from her eyes. Without missing a beat, Amy wrapped her arms around Taylor’s shoulders. “What is it? You can talk to me.”

  Taylor knew that Amy was telling the truth and not simply feeding her empty words, but she couldn’t put what she needed to say in words just yet. Instead, she shook her head. “We’ll talk later,” she promised. “For now, let’s get an umbrella drink in this hand and some party lights out on the patio.”

  Amy smiled, and nodded. “Whatever you need, you’ve got it. We’ll get you back to your old self in no time at all.”

  Taylor smiled, but she knew it looked forced. There was no way to explain to Amy that she would never be her old self again. No matter how brief their relationship had been, Jordan had left her mark on Taylor’s heart. She had come in and shaken up her world, and Taylor knew she would never be the same again.

  She grabbed her bag and followed her bubbly blond friend out to the patio. If there was a cure for the hurt she felt, she would find it here.

  For the time being, she needed to try to forget what it was like to love Jordan Weston, and a few minutes later, as she felt the sting of the rum in the back of her throat, she could think of no more fitting way to drown her sorrows than with alcohol.

  * * *

  Water splashed out of the pot onto the stove. A sizzling sound filled the room. Janelle fought the urge to curse out loud. She wasn’t sure why she was trying so hard to impress this girl, but she wanted her to at least feel at home and be well fed. As she cooked, she tried to ignore the look of disgust on the girl’s face.

  To say the air between them was tense would be a gross understatement. She recalled the fire with which Jordan usually spoke and the passion with which she lived her life. Now she was nothing but the defeated and angry shell of the girl she had once been. That would have to change.

  It was best if her clients—or projects as her son called them—felt at ease. As it was, though, Jordan looked like she either wanted to vomit or run away from the house screaming.

  Hoping to avoid both options, Janelle cleared her throat. “How are you doing?” The question came out sounding flat, but it was the best she could do.

  Jordan looked at Janelle, her eyes full of darkness, and merely shrugged. It was the type of expression that would have driven any half-decent parent mad, but she took a deep breath, reminding herself that this was not her child.

  “Are you settling into your room? Do you need anything else?” She knew she was just desperately reaching for some kind of response from the girl, but again Jordan just silently gestured.

  With a shake of her head, she said everything she needed to say. The silent “fuck off” was as clear as if Jordan had shouted it throughout the house.

  Turning her attention back to the stove, she decided she would try again later. Perhaps after a meal and a little time to herself, Jordan would be ready to talk. Then, Janelle could ask the necessary questions and begin the therapy that she knew needed to take place.

  There was no way that she was going to let this sweet girl succumb to the evils of the homosexual lifestyle. Her parents had raised her better than that, and Janelle wasn’t going to stand by and watch someone as vile as Taylor Reeves suck Jordan into a lifestyle of sin.

  She straightened her shoulders and slid the noodles further into the water. The entire time, she could feel Jordan’s eyes boring holes into the back of her head. It was an eerie feeling, similar to what a gazelle must feel as the lion stalked it prior to devouring it.

  The front door opened and slammed shut, and she saw Trevor blaze into the kitchen. “Hey Mom,” he shouted, his voice far too happy for his typical behavior.

  For a moment, she wondered if her son had come back to her. Then she couldn’t help the doubt that settled into her brain. Maybe he had just found some happier drugs to take. She hated herself for having the thoughts, but she knew that there had to be some sort of explanation, and he hadn’t exactly been in the business of making it easy to trust him lately.

  “Hey Trev,” she said. “Go wash up and let’s have some dinner.”

  Trevor scanned the room to see what was for dinner, before spotting Jordan sitting at the table. Completely ignoring his mom’s request, he sidled up to the table. “Hi,” he said, his voice suddenly both deeper and softer. “How have you been, Jordan? I haven’t really seen you recently, aside from church stuff.”

  Jordan gave him a smile, but it was obviously out of sheer politeness and devoid of any interest. “I’m good. It’s good to see you.”

  Trevor’s smile grew as he pulled out a chair and sat beside her. “You’re staying for dinner, I hope.”

  Janelle fought the urge to laugh at her son’s shameless flirting and willingness to invite anyone to dinner without checking with her first. In this case, she was glad, though. It had been a different story when he was a child and would bring anyone and everyone over for dinner. Now, she watched out of the corner of her eye as Jordan nodded. Her eyes showed signs of defeat, and she was quickly caving to Janelle’s plan. It would be better this way. Soon, Jordan would see.

  Trevor chatted with ease, seeming not to notice how little Jordan gave in response. Janelle listened quietly, hoping that maybe this type of interaction would be beneficial for Jordan. If Trevor could get her to open up and talk a little bit, it would make Janelle’s therapy easier. Similarly, maybe Jordan would be good for Trevor to bring him out of the angst-filled teenage behavior he had been exhibiting.

  She tried to ignore them and focus on the task at hand. There were so many things she had read about but never had to try. Homosexuals just weren’t that common in her circle of clients, so this was going to take her full attention.

  Finishing up the dinner preparations, she glanced over to the table to find Trevor completely mesmerized by everything Jordan was saying. Truth be told, she wasn’t saying much. But at least she was making progress, reliving her knee injury for his entertainment.

  He hung on every word she said, and Janelle saw an attentiveness in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in years. The sight gave her a small bit of hope. It meant he hadn’t lost interest in all things. Instead, he was just a teenage boy with an adoration for getting high and a lack of interest in anything his mother condoned.

  Quizzically, she eyed them, assessing the situation. They were only a couple of years apart in age, and if she played her cards right, maybe she could work some magic there. It was no doubt that Trevor needed a good, strong girl in his life, and Jordan needed a man—any man to make her forget about Taylor.

  “Dinner is ready,” she said, reluctantly breaking up the moment by setting the spaghetti on the table.

  “Thanks, Mom,” Trevor said.

  Janelle laughed. This was obviously part of the show he was putting on for Jordan’s sake. She couldn’t remember the last time he had thanked her for anything. In fact, last time she had made spaghetti, he had refused to eat.

  Shaking her head, she took a seat and watched as he dished some first for Jordan and then some for himself. Jordan squirmed uncomfortably in her chair, accepting the plate of food with as much tact as possible.

  Unable to take her silent disgust any longer, Janelle cleared her throat. “Is something wrong?” The question was more pointed than she had intended, so she did her best to offer a smile to soften the blow.

  Jordan shook her head. “Thank you for dinner,” she said, sounding more like a petulant child than a grown adult.

  In that moment, Janelle wanted to wring her neck. Of course, the situation was less than ideal, but if this girl couldn’t understand that Janelle was simply trying to help, they were going to have issues. “You’re welcome,” she said finally, scooping up the noodles with her fork.

  Trevor continued to make small talk until he had scarfed down his dinner in nothing flat.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said, looking at the clock on the wall. “But will you be around later?”

  Jordan let out a small, sad laugh. “Yeah, I’ll be here.”

  “Cool.”

  With that, Trevor was gone, not even acknowledging his mother’s presence again. For what felt like the millionth time, she thought about chasing him down and telling him to at least ask permission to leave, but she didn’t want to appear weak in front of Jordan. Besides, he had long ago established that if she refused to let him go, he’d sneak out. He was her biggest losing battle, and his stubborn nature showed no signs of ever wavering. She had done him no favors by giving him the authority in their relationship, but she wanted his love more than she wanted control. She pushed the thoughts away, focusing on the situation at hand. Trevor was fond of this houseguest, that much was certain. Some of the others she had brought home over the years had not gone over so well. She could remember him begging her to leave her job at work, but it wasn’t that simple—especially when it was the daughter of one of her oldest friends. With Trevor gone, she knew it was time to break the ice.

  She let out a deep breath and then pushed her plate aside. “Is something wrong with the food?” Janelle asked, noting that Jordan hadn’t taken even a single bite.

  Jordan shook her head. “I’m not really crazy about spaghetti.”

  “You should have said something.”

  Jordan sighed slightly. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m not hungry anyway.” She pushed the plate away and looked down at the table.

  “Do you want to share with me what you’re feeling?” Janelle invited.

  “Not really.”

  “Can you try?”

  Jordan’s forehead wrinkled as if she was trying to pick her words carefully. “I feel like hell,” she suddenly blurted out. “I feel trapped. I feel like I’m a mess. I don’t want to be this way, but at the same time, I don’t want to be held hostage and forced to stop contacting my best friend.”

  “You’re still holding on to her, I see,” Janelle noted disapprovingly.

  “What?” Jordan’s voice was incredulous.

  “I mean, you’re still calling her your best friend. You obviously haven’t let go of anything the way you should have.”

  “You have no idea what it’s like to be in love, do you?”

  Jordan’s simple question shot a barb through her heart. Once upon a time, she had known. Now, she wasn’t so certain.

  Janelle straightened in her chair and narrowed her eyes at Jordan. If this girl was going to get the point, she was going to have to be more blunt and forthcoming. “I may not understand what the two of you had,” she said, trying to keep her tone even despite her boiling blood. “But I know it wasn’t love. I know that you are just a young girl who got caught up in a bad situation. You made some bad choices. You fell into sin, and now it’s time for you to make a choice to lead a better life.”

  “Taylor and I are somehow lesser. Is that what you’re saying?”

  Janelle cleared her throat again. Jordan wasn’t going to make this easy. She had always been a stubborn child.

  “I’m not saying you’re any less than anyone else. I’m simply saying that what you and Taylor had was wrong. Plain and simple. It’s black-and-white. There is no gray area. It’s wrong. You can’t be with another woman. I forbid you to do that.”

  She watched as the storm of anger brewed in Jordan’s eyes, and she knew she had crossed a line. Jordan was not her daughter. It was not her place to forbid her from anything. But at the same time, she was the girl’s only accountability for the time being.

  “Unless you want to tell your parents, you follow my rules,” she said with a shrug. “It’s your choice. You need help, and I’m willing to give you the help and guidance you need so that you don’t have to go to them with this problem. If you fight it, though, or if you decide the rules need to be broken, I’ll have to tell them.”

  “I don’t need guidance,” Jordan argued. “I’m fine. I just need to do this on my own.”

  “Doing things on your own got you into this mess, and into Taylor Reeves’s bed.”

  She watched for the obvious signs of torment to come up at the mention of Taylor’s name. As they always did, Jordan’s eyes almost filled with tears at the name.