19. Lucy
CHAPTER 19
LUCY
I think my family likes Jordan more than me.
We just drove back to Maverick City after spending Christmas at my house. My mom had the whole place decked out, just like she always does. The constant smell of cookies baking would’ve put Mrs. Claus to shame.
When I told her that Jordan hadn’t ever experienced an over-the-top Christmas celebration, she decided to pull out all the stops–outdoor inflated reindeer, garland on every railing and ledge, and so many lights, our house was definitely visible from space.
Jordan loved every bit of it.
I don’t think he stopped smiling from the moment he crossed the snowman-themed entry rug to walking out the door carrying four Tupperware containers of leftovers and gingerbread cookies. The only time I noticed his face fall was when we were sitting around the Christmas tree drinking hot chocolate and giving gifts.
I asked him if everything was okay, and he told me his mom would’ve loved this. My heart broke a little for her. I knew she was working, but she’d still be alone when she got home. Even if his dad was there, I know Christmas was full of special memories with Jordan.
I got to meet her on Facetime, and it became crystal clear where Jordan got his warmth and silent resilience. Even a single conversation revealed just how wonderful this woman was and is. She and my mom are going to get along so well.
The idea of them meeting brings all sorts of butterflies and overwhelming feelings into my stomach. Unsurprisingly, Jordan already succeeded in winning over my family.
He entered the living room where all my grandparents were playing cards, and the room instantly fell silent. My grandma then dropped her hand, lowered her glasses, and let out a whistle. My other grandma whispered, intentionally loud, “Hot damn. Good work, Lucy-Lu.”
I don’t know who was redder, me or Jordan. He had a smile plastered to his face while I used my hands to try to hide from this moment. It was equal parts embarrassing and hilarious. These ladies haven’t lost any of their spunk, that’s for sure. They’ve also definitely gotten more inappropriate with age.
The rest of the day went similarly to that. A lot of fawning over Jordan when he offered to do the dishes or talked about how much better I am at shooting than he is. They really loved that one–especially my grandpas. They helped me perfect my shot after my dad died.
I spent most of the day staring at him. He caught me a couple times and either winked, which made me want to wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, or gave me a subtle smile, which made me want to climb in his lap and kiss him.
Basically, everything he does compels me to want to make out with him.
It’s certainly an awkward emotion while surrounded by your grandparents, but I don’t think anyone would blame me. As he now strides across the gas station parking lot toward me, my reveries about him are interrupted by very current emotions surrounding him. The pink tinge in his cheeks from the December cold, the winter coat still somehow emphasizing his frame–which quite honestly makes no sense–and the curly hair still wet from a shower, now frozen from being outside. I would look like a drowned rat, but he looks like a runway model.
He climbs into the driver’s seat, hands me a bag of popcorn and candy, intertwines his fingers with mine, kisses my hand, and pulls out of the parking lot. During this sequence of events, I’m staring at him like he’s a piece of meat. I just want to get back to my house so I can nestle into him and stay there forever.
I loved bringing him home. I loved seeing how much my family loved him. But I missed being with just him. I missed our sarcastic fights that end in kissing and laughter. I missed laying on him watching our favorite TV shows while he traces patterns on my back and I run my fingers along his jaw.
We park at the curb and he carries our bags in. We settle under a blanket on the couch. Now it’s time for us to exchange presents. We agreed that we would only do one item, and it had to hold some sort of significance beyond just being something cool.
We each wanted to give something meaningful.
I give mine first.
I hand him a leather-bound binder. He runs his hand over the cover. Then he flips it open. I can’t keep quiet anymore. Overexplaining gifts is a habit I’ve never been able to get over.
“You said you don’t have any family recipes. This is a binder to fill with recipes you can pass down. I got some from my mom and I actually texted your mom to get some of hers, plus I got some from Pete and Angie. There’s obviously a lot of room to add, so whenever you cook something, you can put it here. I know you don’t cook a lot yet, but I feel like maybe?—”
He pulls my face to his and kisses me hard. Then he plants little kisses all over my face. He settles back and continues flipping through it, perusing the recipes.
“Lucy, thank you. Seriously, I love this. I want to go make one of these after I give you your gift, and then we can watch a movie.”
“Wow, I'm a genius. I gave you a gift that led to you making me food. What an incredible move on my part.”
“And you’re super humble.”
I nod enthusiastically. “Yup, that too. Just a true innovator in every way.”
He tosses me a wrapped package. “All right, innovator, shut up and open your present.”
I tear open the paper. It’s a dark green vintage YMCA sweatshirt. And it’s gorgeous. I jump onto his lap and bear hug him. “I love this so much! Thank you! I want to go put it on right now.”
He grabs my hand as I stand up, pulling me back down to the couch. “Wait, there’s a second part to this present.”
Shaking my head, I wag a finger at him. “Nope. That goes against the rules, and I won’t accept it.”
“Wait, wait, hold on. I didn’t spend money on this, and it’s on the theme of the YMCA. It’s all technically one gift with two halves. Like a basketball game–see, it all makes sense. You’re welcome.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “The pre-law stuff is starting to permeate your entire life. Did you know that? I should’ve known better than to think you didn’t have a well-prepared argument ready to go. And you call me the crazy one.” I hold out my hands, feigning annoyance.
“Well, you are crazy. You ranted for fifteen minutes about Titanic and how selfish Rose was. ”
“I think if you took a straw poll on that one, I’m actually in the majority, and–”
A heavy envelope drops on my lap, shutting me up.
“What is this?”
“Just open it.”
He’s doing that thing I love where he’s a little nervous but also excitedly watching my reaction. I peel the envelope open and pull out the first piece of paper. Then I read.
Dear Lucy,
It’s tough to articulate how much joy you’ve brought to
my life. You are like a daughter to me, and I know my own daughter
would’ve loved you…
It’s a letter from Jeff. I wipe the tear from my cheek, flipping through the massive stack of letters. Each of the guys I play with at the YMCA wrote one. Then there are the letters from my roommates, a few of my teammates, Pete and Angie, and even my mom. I read and read, tears streaming down my face with each word.
They tell me how much I’ve meant to them–they share stories and memories, the times I’ve lifted them up, the joy and the love. I genuinely don’t know what to do with all these emotions. Every time I look up at Jordan, he just scoots closer to me and continues stroking my shoulders.
Finally I reach the end, and he hands over the tissue box. I wipe the tears and snot from my face and laugh. “This was not on the theme of the YMCA, you liar.”
He shrugs. “Yeah, well, it started that way. I was just going to have it be the guys you play with. But then I told AJ about it and she wanted to write one. It snowballed from there. It’s not my fault everyone’s obsessed with you. ”
I wallop him in the face with a pillow. He smacks it away and kisses the top of my head.
“Well, they are. You don’t even know the impact you’ve had here, Lucy. I’m not talking about basketball. I’m talking about people. You’ve affected people in so many ways by just being yourself.”
Now he’s getting choked up. Which is making me even more emotional because I’m a basket case right now and can’t be held accountable for my emotions. He swallows in an effort to gain some composure and continues.
“I’m just in awe of you. And it has absolutely nothing to do with putting a leather ball through a metal ring.”
He cups my face in his hands and gives me a piercing stare. “I really need you to internalize this. Who you are and the impact you’ve had is way more than basketball.”
How the hell did we start talking about this? Now we are delving into one of my most deeply held insecurities, just out of the blue, off the cuff. I wasn’t prepared for this. I need a good twenty-four hours to mentally and emotionally ready myself for this topic.
But it’s evident Jordan has gotten to know me even more intimately than I realized. He genuinely sees me behind the perfectly curated facade. A large part of my anxiety stems from feeling like basketball is the main reason anyone likes me or cares about me. It often feels like it’s the only value I have.
It feels like it’s my whole identity.
So without it, I am no one. Hence why an injury like tearing my ACL derailed me beyond just the physical. It ripped out the core of who I am as a person. Therapy helped, but that ugly insecurity is always there, ready to rear its head again.
Jordan giving me a gift that was not just thoughtful, but also helped affirm my identity as more than a basketball player, is almost too much for my little heart to handle .
My head rests on his chest, his steady heartbeat the soundtrack of my evening. My cheeks are still wet as I lift my head and kiss his cheek. He turns his head to make his mouth meet mine, and once again, I’m reminded how quickly I’m falling.
His soft lips move in rhythm with mine. I taste peppermint on his tongue, feel the heat of his breathing. I pull away for a moment, taking in every feature of his gorgeous face.
“Sometimes I worry you’re too good to be true. Like I’m going to wake up from this dream and the other shoe is going to drop.”
A glimmer of fear flashes across his face so quickly, I almost wonder if I imagined it. His expression is suddenly difficult to read, like he’s masking something below the surface.
What’s he so afraid of?
I sure hope the other shoe isn’t dropping soon.