All Signs Point to You Part Two, Navaura Campbell [best novels for students .txt] 📗

heart pounding ferociously in his chest, he realized he needed sleep. Inhaling sharply, he wobbled around the table, walked toward the door separating the kitchen and living room, he pushed open the door. That was when he blacked out.

Denise listened to him stumble in from the bedroom upstairs. Cradling her pillow to her chest, she released the tears she'd been crying for a month now. Why did he stumble in drunk as he had for weeks now. Ever since he'd gone out with Nate on his birthday, he'd been drinking. His attention was no longer focused on her. It was else where. It was like she was invisible now that his mother and Nicholas weren't in the picture. Swallowing largely, she closed her eyes and begged God for help. Any kind of help would suffice.

Jordan's eyes opened; everything around him blurry. He couldn't tell where he was at this time, just that where ever he was, the place was ice cold. Groaning, he tried to shift positions and froze before he even moved an inch. His head was pounding, body aching. Finally his vision came into focus and he spotted a gray and white colored fabric in his face. He groaned once more, pushed up on his hands and stared around. He was in between the living room and the kitchen, the swing doors encasing his body. Swallowing, he felt the throb began in his throat. He wiped his face and turned into the kitchen, taking the back steps, hoping that Denise wouldn't spot him. He really didn't feel like talking to her now. Dragging his feet behind him, he sluggishly made his way to the linen closet.

When Denise heard the shower running, she knew he'd finally gotten up. Swallowing she buried herself deeper into her pillow, trying desperately to wipe away the pain that had stored itself into her heart.

Two days later:

Again. He'd come home the third time that week drunk. The horrible thing was that he hadn't even waited till the dusk settled before engorging in this behavior. Exhaling sharply, she grabbed the suitcase from underneath her bed. She couldn't do this, wouldn't do this anymore. She wanted-needed more room to breathe than what she was allowed here. All alone in a silent empty house with nothing but four walls to talk to? She needed more. Swallowing, she pushed up on the locks. The suitcase popped open. Grabbing clothes from the dresser, she began packing them.

Jordan must have stood outside the door watching her pack for what seemed like an hour, before she finally turned around and noticed he was there. His eyes connected with hers. Dark, void of emotion. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut a knife. She held on to the suitcase and walked toward him. He refused to move from the frame of the door.

"Move, Jordan."

He glanced down at her, crossing his arms over his chest. Defiant.

Denise's eyes flashed anger. "Move out of my way." Her tone was stern. Jordan shook his head and reached for her bag. She pulled it up to her chest, out of his reach. He stepped closer to her. "Be reasonable Denise."

Denise bit her bottom lip, irritated. "I am being reasonable. I can't stand being here with you anymore. I need to leave."

"So, you're going to desert me now?" He asked, the smell of what ever alcohol he'd been drinking on his breath.

Denise turned her head to avoid saying something nasty about its stench. "You need help Jordan."

He laughed sarcastically. "I need help? You're the one traipsing around here like everything is fine."

Denise swallowed, "I am not. I'm just sick of your bullshit."

Jordan raised a brow, "Bull shit?"

She nodded, "Yeah, you're drunk now, just as you were yesterday and the day before."

He protested with a nod. "No. I'm just buzzed."

Denise sighed, her eyes looking up into his, "I thought you were supposed to be at work?"

He laughed, his tone sort of slurred, "I got fired."

Denise shook her head, "really? Why?"

He shrugged, "Said he didn't need me anymore." He'd leaned forward to grab her bag. Denise pulled it away from him. He reached out to touch her hair. She cringed.

"I'm not attractive to you anymore?"

Denise was repulsed. She couldn't stand for him to touch her when he was drinking. He knew that. Jordan pulled his hand away. He stood there staring at her, not saying much.

She exhaled. "Jordan, I am going to my mom's. If you need anything, you can call me there." She went around him. He grabbed a hold of her bag. She stopped, glanced back at him, "Let go."

He shook his head irrefutably "I'm not letting you leave me."

Denise pulled with all her strength. "Watch me, Jordan. I'm going to walk out that door."

He licked his lips agitated, "You're not leaving me."

She felt the heat spread in her stomach first, but then go through out her rib cage, and up to her chest area. "I don't want to stay here with a bitter man."

He held the suitcase to him, "I'm not bitter, I'm grieving."

"Whatever. I just want to go home. I want to be with my family."

"I thought I was your family." He whispered softly.

Denise pulled the bag to her, "Me, too. Now let go, before you make things worse."

His green eyes went stormy. "You are not leaving."

"Let go." She stated her eyes hard.

Jordan felt the anger flash through him in bolts. "You want to go?"

"Yeah!" She nodded vigorously. Without thinking, he reached up and landed a slap to her face. First she didn't say anything. She just stared, dumbfounded that he'd actually hit her, but when he immediately grabbed her face, placing wet sloppy kisses over it, she felt sickened. She felt horror, absolute rage. What she did next made her stumble backward. She pushed him off of her and when he called out her name, trying to pull her back to him, she balled up her fist and punched him so hard, he moved back himself, blood spurting from his nose. He reached up and felt the small trickles come down. Her gaze locked on his nose, trembling with fear over her actions. She'd never hit him before. His gaze went down to hers; seeing the hurt, pain, frustration in her beautiful brown eyes. He inhaled, feeling as if he'd been stomped into the ground, bulldozed over and then flat ironed by a steamer. His chest hurt with every inhalation of breath. His gaze stayed on hers, until ever so subtle, his grip loosened on the suitcase

Chapter Fifty Seven:

"What happened?" Denise's mother inquired as she stepped through the door of her home.

"I don't want to talk about it." Denise's tone was set. She really didn't want to discuss what had been going on with her and Jordan over the last few weeks. She pushed past her mother, down the hallway, up the stairs and to her old room. Laying the two suitcases she'd brought with her on the floor, she let out a big sigh and passed out on her bed.

Jordan slumped down to the floor, the alcohol finally wearing off, leaving him to sober up. Staring out at the blank wall in front of him, he listened as silent emptiness filled his heart and his home. If he could call it that. Without Denise, Nicholas and his mother, it was just a big plop of land that he could stand to get away from. Sighing, he put a distraught hand up to his face, convinced that he'd just done the one thing his mother had always taught him not to do, hit a woman. Not just any woman, but the one he was completely in love with. One he'd loved for almost four years now. Inhaling sharply, he thought of his actions the previous morning with his boss. Yeah, he'd gotten fired, but only after he'd cursed her. She'd always been a nag, but he'd never thought he'd go so far as to be blunt when telling her off. She'd told him, body trembling, face red, that he had to leave and if he decided to come back, she would get a restraining order. In a mass of rage, he'd left the office and then went to the store, bought a twelve pack and was drunk by three o'clock. He'd immediately come home, assuming that it was time to be off, but only to find her packing and him three hours earlier than usual. Closing his eyes, he groaned and then released a sharp breath.

Shortly after his bought with the realization that Denise had left him, he fell asleep and woke up that same night, with a splitting headache. He needed something to calm him down. Sighing, he got up and made his way into the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of vodka, the stuff he really liked and twisted the cap off. As he lifted it to his mouth, a folded up piece of paper was on the counter. Grabbing the paper up, he set the bottle down and opened it. It was dated back two weeks ago.

Jordan,

Hi. I'm leaving this letter because I want you to know that I'm moving back in with my parents. I don't hate you or anything like that. In fact, I love you more now than I did when I first said it that day in the basement, remember? We were standing in front of the heater, just staring like two idiots and I blurted it out. (smile)

Jordan inhaled sharply, a smile coming to his face. He remembered well. He remembered the shock, the still of his body, and the pleasant warmth that took over after the shock. He'd been so happy that day, that he didn't think anything could touch what they'd built. A frown replaced the smile as he thought of the predicament he was in now. Turning his attention back to the letter, he continued on.

I often think about that day and smile because I'd never thought we'd come this far. I didn't think we'd last past high-school. Especially with the way I was thinking back then. Even now, remembering how I thought and behaved back then, it's a miracle you put up with me. I was so inconsistent in everything, couldn't make a decision to save my life, but now...here I am three years later, absolutely positive that I don't want this. I can't stand the drinking, it's too much. I know you're hurt because of your mother's death, and I know you're hurt because of baby Nicholas' death and I understand that, but why do you have to leave me out? Why do I have to be left here? Why can't we go away together? Why can't we heal together? I don't understand this because you've always been the type to work everything out with me. You've always made sure I could talk to you when I needed to. Even when I was dating Lamont back then, you were a great friend. You told me the truth, you showed me love. Now, I want to be there for you, I want to show you the love and support that I know you need. I want us to be able to move on together, but now that's not possible. You've stopped being you and become someone else. Someone I don't know. What do I do about that? How do I get past that? I can't. So, although my love for you is tenderest yet strong in the deepest parts of my heart, so is my disgust for the things you do, the way you treat me, as if I'm non existent. The way you come home and pass out on the floor, sometimes in your own vomit, it's disgusting. I can't do it. I can't take it.

I hurt too, I need you just as much as you need me.

I have to go now,

Love always,

Denise.

Jordan stared at the sheet of paper, the words becoming blurry. He'd known she hated it, but hadn't known she'd felt disgust that intense. His heart swelled with the pain. He hadn't known that she'd felt neglected. He'd been so wrapped up in his own grief, that he'd forgotten that she'd also lost a child. They'd made that baby together. Inhaling sharply, he set the letter down and picked up the bottle. Staring at it, he was suddenly overwhelmed with a hatred for the liquid. The last thing he intended was to cause the one person who'd been there through everything over the past three years with him, to be driven away. His heart was pricked. He loved her way too much to let this come in the way. He loved her way too much to allow the ache in his heart to be drowned out through the use of liquor. He hated that. Sighing, he tipped the bottle over the sink, watching it's contents go down the drain.