The Man Who Fixed Me
1351 Words
The Lake View Hotel Los Angeles, Penthouse Suite 161
Friday, August 22nd, 2025 — 11:58 PM
“Alright, ladies,” I huffed, shifting to get comfortable, my champagne glass nearly empty. “Let’s talk about Jordan, the man who rebuilt my life after Austin, only for Austin to tear it all back down again.”
“You better start from the beginning, Ava,” Keisha said, sipping her drink. “Because from the outside looking in, Jordan sounds like Prince Charming in a tailored suit.”
I gave her a gentle, knowing look. “That’s exactly what I thought at first. But trust me no man or woman is perfect. Everyone has flaws, even someone as wonderful as Jordan.”
“Fair enough,” Camille nodded, her expression softening. “Tell us how you met him.”
Mount Saint Greon Medical Center, Los Angeles
April 12th, 2017 — 10:32 PM
By the time Jordan Harrington rolled through my ER, I was knee-deep into a twelve-hour shift, running mostly on coffee and adrenaline. The night had been slow until suddenly it wasn’t, trauma patients pouring in like clockwork. I was charting medications when I saw a stretcher rush past, paramedics shouting vital signs and orders.
“He’s stable!” Dr. Ruiz called out sharply, stepping back to glance at me as he finished his initial assessment. “Ava, get him prepped. He’s headed upstairs once we finish down here.”
“Got it, Doc,” I responded quickly, grabbing the chart and moving toward the bed.
Jordan lay on the stretcher, face bruised but still impossibly handsome, his eyes half-open, clearly disoriented. He wore a tailored navy suit, now torn and stained, and his chest rose and fell steadily beneath it. Even injured, he radiated calm confidence and undeniable strength.
“Hello, Mr. Harrington,” I greeted, placing my hand on his wrist, checking his pulse manually despite the monitors. “I’m Ava, your nurse. You’re at Mount Saint Greon Medical Center. You were in an accident, but you're safe now.”
He blinked slowly, eyes finally focusing on me. A faint smile played at the corner of his lips. “Well, if this is heaven,” he said hoarsely, voice deep and resonant, “I guess the angels look like you.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Save your strength, Mr. Smooth Talker. You took quite a hit.”
“Jordan,” he corrected softly. “Call me Jordan. Mr. Harrington sounds like my father.”
“Okay, Jordan,” I replied gently, checking his IV fluids. “You’ve got a mild concussion and a bruised shoulder. We’ll get you upstairs soon so you can rest.”
He reached for my hand weakly, eyes serious despite his condition. “Promise me you’ll be there to check on me? You’re about the only thing making this night bearable.”
I smirked gently, feeling warmth rise to my cheeks. “You’re quite the flirt, even post-accident.”
“Only when properly motivated,” Jordan whispered, eyelids drooping softly.
I squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I’ll come check on you later, I promise.”
“Thank you, Ava,” he said softly, eyes fluttering closed again. “I’ll hold you to that.”
And he did. A few hours later, as I stood beside his hospital bed upstairs, Jordan looked far better, now awake, alert, and charming as ever.
“I hope you know,” he said with a gentle smile, “I’ve been rehearsing what I was going to say to you when I saw you again.”
“Oh?” I teased lightly. “Did it sound better in your head?”
Jordan chuckled softly. “Much. But how about this I’d like to thank you properly. Dinner, maybe?”
I folded my arms playfully. “Is that your way of asking me out?”
“Depends,” he said. “Is it working?”
“It’s not bad,” I admitted, smiling warmly. “I’ll give you my number, Jordan.”
He smiled triumphantly, resting his head back against the pillow, relaxed and confident. “Now, that sounds perfect.”
La Bistro, Beverly Hills
April 20th, 2017 — 7:15 PM
Our first date was effortless, good food, easy laughter, and conversation that felt genuine. Jordan looked incredible in his casual attire, his tailored shirt hugging broad shoulders, his aura confident but humble.
“So,” Jordan began, swirling his glass of wine. “Let’s jump straight into the deep end, shall we?”
“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Bold start. Go ahead.”
“Do you want kids?” he asked bluntly, no hesitation. “I mean, eventually.”
I smiled faintly, surprised but appreciative of his directness. “Honestly? I’m not sure. Maybe not. My life has been complicated. I’m just now finding stability. You?”
He exhaled nodding slowly. “Same. If it happens, great. If not, I’ll survive.”
I tilted my head slightly. “What about marriage? Is that something you want?”
Jordan smiled genuinely, eyes warm with honesty. “With the right person, yes. But marriage, to me, means something serious true partnership, friendship, respect. Not just a piece of paper.”
“I like that,” I agreed, swirling my own wine thoughtfully. “My last relationships taught me a lot about what I don’t want. I want someone real, someone I trust completely. No secrets.”
Jordan leaned forward slightly, gaze intense but kind. “Then we’re on the same page. I can’t stand lies or deception. Honesty is non-negotiable.”
I smiled, heart warming at his sincerity. “That’s refreshing. Rare, even.”
“Call me old-fashioned,” Jordan said warmly, smiling into his glass, “but my mama raised me to be honorable. Treat people well. Respect your partner. Protect the people you love. Work hard. Do right.”
I reached across the table, touching his hand gently. “Your mama raised you well, Jordan Harrington.”
He smiled broadly, squeezing my hand affectionately. “Thank you, Ava. That means everything.”
The Lake View Hotel Los Angeles, Penthouse Suite 161
Saturday, August 23rd, 2025 — 12:22 AM
“Damn, Ava,” Toni spoke softly, eyes wide. “Jordan sounds like the perfect man. What’s the catch?”
I grumbled and grabbed one of the bags of hot chips. “No catch. Just flaws. He’s wonderful, caring, intelligent, generous, stable. But everyone has their shadows. Even Jordan.”
Keisha raised her brows skeptically. “But Ava, nothing you just said sounds flawed. You sure he wasn’t just the perfect guy, and you weren’t ready for it?”
I shook my head, smiling sadly. “Trust me Jordan Harrington is as amazing as he sounds. But perfection? That’s an illusion. Eventually, every illusion cracks.”
Camille nodded. “Exactly. Even the best of us carry hidden scars. Nobody’s perfect, Keisha.”
Nia leaned forward. “Ava, you don’t sound bitter, though. Just realistic.”
“Exactly,” I agreed, glancing down at my glass. “Jordan was the first man who made me feel safe again. But his flaws ran deeper than I could’ve imagined. And when Austin came back—”
Latrixa finished knowingly, her amber eyes intense. “Those cracks turned into craters.”
“Exactly,” I whispered, feeling heaviness settle into my chest. “Jordan healed me, made me feel protected, loved. But Austin he made me feel alive. Despite how good of a man I had I still thought of Austin.”
The room went quiet, everyone absorbing my words, waiting for me to continue.
“Ladies,” I said, “you asked for my truth. Jordan was everything I thought I wanted until Austin proved what I truly needed. But before you can understand why Austin’s return mattered so much, you have to understand exactly who Jordan was, and what he meant to me.”
And as they leaned in closer, champagne forgotten, I prepared myself to reveal the next painful chapter of my complicated, beautiful disaster of a life.
- Writer
