10. The Invitation

Jordan

Go where exactly? I never made any friends aside from Justine, even until the end… how about making a difference this time, not everyone gets a second chance at life. I leaned back in the chair and dragged a hand down my face, feeling the tiredness settle into my bones. It was past ten. The house had gone quieter, but not peaceful. The kind of quiet that meant everyone had chosen their sides and gone to bed with them. Well, peace is one thing I've been unable to associate with at the moment.

I reached for my phone.

For a moment, I just stared at the screen, scrolling through contacts without really seeing any of the names. Contacts here are mostly business. Damn it Jordan, what kind of life did you really live in your past? That's why they easily hurt you. 

I needed somewhere not too loud, someone I could be comfortable with.

My thumb slowed when I saw a familiar name, my mind riding back to the night at the bar, how it felt so natural around him.

I frowned slightly, unsure when that had happened, when he had stopped being just my lawyer in my head and turned into… this. An option. A person I could think of at this hour without feeling like I was imposing.

It didn’t make sense. I barely knew him. We had met only for the case, the other night had been a mess of alcohol, bad timing, and things I hadn’t fully sorted out yet. Still, my chest tightened in a way that wasn’t unpleasant.

I hesitated.

Then, without letting myself overthink it, I tapped call.

It rang twice before he answered.

“Jordan,” his voice came through, steady, not sleepy. “Everything okay?”

That alone caught me off guard. Jordan? When did we get to that point…Just my 

“I…” I cleared my throat. “Sorry if this is late.”

“It’s fine,” he said easily. “I just left the office.”

Of course he was. Somehow that felt fitting.

I shifted in the chair, rolling slightly away from the desk. “This might sound random, but do you drink?”

There was a pause on the line, short but noticeable.

“Only when the company’s interesting,” he replied.

The words caught me off guard, and before I could stop myself, I laughed as it slipped out of me, light and real, surprising both of us.

“Is that a yes?” I asked.

“It’s a yes,” he said, amusement clear in his voice. “Are you asking professionally, or…”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Personally, I think.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

“Give me twenty minutes,” he said. “I know a place.”

I didn’t ask where. I didn’t ask why. I just said, “Okay,” and ended the call.

As I stood, grabbing my jacket, the memory came back uninvited. The weight of exhaustion pulling me under while I half-felt, half-dreamed someone leaning close.

His mouth against mine.

The memory made my chest tighten.

I shook my head once, like that could dislodge it, and left the study without looking back.

The bar was cool, no loud music. No crowd pressing in. It sat at the top of a building, quiet and dim, the city lights spread out beyond the glass like they belonged there.

Jagger was already waiting when I arrived.

He stood when he saw me, tall and composed, jacket still on, his presence filling the space without effort. His eyes flicked over me briefly, like he was observing me.

“You look like you needed this,” he said.

I huffed quietly. “You have no idea.”

He gestured toward the bar. “Drink?”

“Yes.”

He ordered for both of us without asking, and I didn’t mind. When the glasses arrived, we sat there, my eyes glancing around wondering why there's barely anyone in here. It's just us.

I wrapped my fingers around the glass, the cold grounding me.

“Mr Walker,” I started.

“Don’t,” he interrupted immediately. “Jagger is fine.”

I nodded once. “Jagger.”

“Well, why does it look like we are the only ones here?” I asked, looking around once more.

“That's because I rented the entire place.” I raised a brow…

“Sounds like what you hear in Kdramas…” I muttered loud enough for him to hear. 

He chuckled, “I don't even watch those,” I took a sip, letting the burn settle.

“I wanted to ask,” I said finally, setting the glass down. “About the girl. The blonde from the hotel.”

His expression shifted, professional without becoming cold. “I haven’t found her yet.”

I exhaled slowly. “But you believe me.”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “It was a setup.”

That eased something tight in my chest.

The conversation stayed on the case for a while. Things I could handle. But somewhere between the second drink and his dry comment about how terrible my wife’s lawyer was, the tension eased.

“I feel like I’m drowning,” I said quietly, surprising myself.

He didn’t interrupt.

“Everyone keeps acting like silence is better,” I continued. “Like if we don’t talk about it, it won’t hurt as much. But it does. It hurts more.”

He leaned back slightly, studying me. “You don’t strike me as someone who deserves what’s happening to him.”

I laughed under my breath. “Neither did I.”

He smiled faintly, just enough. “You’re allowed to be tired, you know.”

When we finally stood to leave, the city felt farther away than it had when we arrived.

At the door, he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Get home safe, and call me if anything…” he said.

I nodded.

As I stepped away, something caught me off guard, it’s the first time my chest didn’t feel tight.

Around him, I felt calm.