28. Jordan
CHAPTER 28
JORDAN
I ’m going to take a swing at Tyler at practice tomorrow. It’s like he’s a sadist who wants to see me suffer. That’s the only possible explanation for bringing me to karaoke–one of my top worst fears–while Lucy sits across the bar looking like…that.
Looking like a damn fantasy. My fantasy. That’s all it is because she’s not my reality anymore. Now, thanks to my “friend,” I get to have that fact shoved down my throat.
My gaze trails up her legs to the curve of her hips in that skirt, and the lace draped across her collarbone. She must feel my eyes on her–I wouldn’t be surprised if she could actually sense the heat coming off me right now–because for a brief moment, our eyes lock across the crowded room.
I’m taken back to the first time I saw her. Different location, same story. In a crowd, I will always search for her eyes first. In shorts and a jersey or in this heart-stopping, sexy look, her effect on me is the same.
I slide into the booth by Tyler and punch his arm slightly harder than necessary.
He rubs the spot, not questioning why I did it. That’s all the proof I need that this was planned. I knew he’d been talking to Britt. As if I’m psychic, he takes one sip of his Coke and stands up. “I’m going to go see who I know here.”
I slump back against the booth with a chuckle. “Dude, just go find Britt. I’m the only one here. You don’t need to pretend.”
The room is dark, but the discoloration on his neck is evident as he beelines for Britt without another word. I obviously can’t go with him. Lucy’s sitting over there, chatting with a guy I think is on the baseball team or something. My jealousy is aflame in my stomach.
What did these people think was going to happen tonight? I would see Lucy and realize I made a huge mistake? I already know that. I know how beautiful, talented, and funny she is. The reminder is unnecessary.
The only potential result of this evening will be me beating up the ten guys gravitating toward Lucy, waiting for their chance to shoot their shot. Shaking my head, I feel myself smirk. None of them are good enough for her. She knows it. I know it. I may be insecure that my place is being taken, but they are merely placeholders until she finds someone who knows her like I do.
Someone who treats her like I did.
Someone who will do anything and everything to make her happy.
Someone who will gladly live behind the scenes so she can shine the way she’s meant to.
Like I wanted to do. For her.
Her eyes find me again, and she catches my smirk as she chats with a golfer. Dang, these guys are relentless. I see a smile play at the edge of her lips as she turns her attention back to him. She caught me, and it’s clear she knows I’m still watching.
It’s also clear that she’s enjoying what this is doing to me.
She’s gotten a little more animated, laughing at whatever dumb jokes are being thrown out to impress her. And even though I can tell she’s not genuinely interested, seeing her laugh with someone else is eating away at me.
The magnetic pull I feel toward her is getting uncomfortably powerful. The longer I sit here, the harder it is to resist striding over there, sliding in next to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder, and pulling her face to mine.
For a while, she was my girl.
I never wanted her to be anything but that.
As if to save me from this misery, my phone buzzes with an incoming call. I don’t care if it's my bank or someone selling diet pills—I’m using this call to get out of this little bar of horrors. Thankfully, the caller is a welcome one.
I step into the chilly night.
“Hey, Mom. Were your spidey senses tingling? Your timing couldn’t have been better.”
I hear the sounds of the nurses’ station in the background. Beeps and voices and inconsistent footsteps. My mom laughs.
“A mother’s intuition. How are you? And how’s Lucy holding up? I watched her game and saw the injury. The commentators said her recovery shouldn’t be too bad–you’d better be taking good care of her.”
I let out a deep breath. “Lucy and I broke up.”
All I hear is beeps and clicking for a few moments. When she finally speaks, my mom’s tone is thick with worry. “What happened?”
Good question. How do I explain it all without making my mom feel guilty for my dad’s actions? How do I summarize everything I’m feeling for this girl and how hard it was to walk away and how badly I want to keep her safe?
The words that come out are honest and cut to the point. “I’m terrified I might hurt her.”
More silence.
I’m starting to wonder if she left the phone to go tend to a patient. The words she finally utters are not what I was expecting .
“Jordan, I need you to listen to me. You are not your father.”
My throat catches as I try to swallow. I really don’t want to cry outside a bar.
“Furthermore, this is your life. This is your future. Not mine or your dad’s—it’s yours. What do you want? I think it’s time to stop trying to please everyone and stop taking a back seat to the way your life is going. You are not powerless here.”
Dang, Mom.
It’s obvious she’s fighting tears now.
“Honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t more involved in all of this when you were growing up. You are not powerless anymore, but there was a time when you were, and I didn’t protect you the way I should have.”
I shake my head. “Mom, stop. You did nothing but work hard for me. I know that.”
“Yes, but it wasn’t until it was too late that I realized what you needed more than that. You needed someone who made it clear to you how loved you are. You needed someone to tell you that you’re so much more than an athlete. Your dad pushed you to be the best, but your mom should’ve told you that even if you weren’t, you are so loved. And you are a pretty amazing person.”
My eyes are closed as I absorb her words. Is this what AJ was talking about when she mentioned difficult conversations? When she was talking about having a relationship with your parents that goes beyond sports performance?
“Thanks, Mom. I didn’t even know how badly I needed to hear that.”
“It’s all true. We definitely need to talk about this more, but I’m at work and don’t have a lot of time, so let’s get to the more pressing matter at hand. What do you want to do about Lucy?”
What I want to do and what I’m actually going to do seem to be two different questions, although this conversation with my mom is blurring that line. She’s making it feel like a life with Lucy isn’t off the table.
“I just want to protect her. Mom, she’s literally going to the WNBA and will be working with Nike and Gatorade and doing big-time stuff. Making big-time money. I don’t want to drag her down or hold her back. I don’t want to be worried about being a leech.”
My mom cuts through the BS. “So, you’re worried your dad will be a leech?”
I sputter. “I mean, yeah. I feel like that’s a fair concern.”
She yells something to someone far away, presumably another nurse, then speaks quickly.
“It’s a fair concern when you have no control. But you do. You are going to have to set some boundaries and decide who has authority over your life. I know your dad isn’t perfect, but I chose the life I wanted, and I’m working every day to make it a reality. You’ve got to decide what kind of reality you want. And truly, Jordan, if your dad and I need to take a back seat or get out of the car for a while for that to happen, then so be it. Don’t be a victim of your life.”
My eyes widen at that. What is she even proposing? It’s never crossed my mind that I would cut them out in any capacity. My mom leaves me with one final sentiment.
“I think you love Lucy and are terrified of hurting her or losing her. But the answer is not to run away from your problems. Sooner or later, you gotta face them–even if one of them is your father. Lord knows I’ve had my fair share of stern conversations with that man. He’s far from perfect. But so am I. Love is complicated. It’s messy. It’s not always easy. But when you find the person who makes all of that worth it, you gotta jump.”
Who is this woman? How have I missed out on so much wisdom? This one phone call gave me more nuggets of truth than any book I’ve ever read .
“Mom, I’m sorry I didn’t come to you sooner. You are incredible. Have you been reading or praying or meditating or something?”
She laughs and I hear more typing, like somehow she’s spewing proverbs and also saving lives. Unreal.
“Ha, funny. No, I’m just an old lady who’s made a lot of mistakes. I would love to stay on here the rest of the night and solve all the world’s problems, but I gotta run. I love you. Be brave, Jo. Go get her.”
“I love you, Mom.”
The call ends, and I’m left speechless. All this talk of building the life you want and jumping into the great unknown and facing fears. One phone call just changed my entire perspective on who my mom is.
She’s right. And so was AJ, even if I didn’t want to admit it. My decision to end things with Lucy was motivated by fear. I was being a coward. Sure, I would save her from any of the baggage I’m carrying and any interference from my dad, but we’d live mediocre lives apart from each other.
I never had an opinion on soulmates until now. This girl is it for me.
I need to go win her back.
We can figure out the details later, but right now, I need to jump.
As if divine intervention is at play, the idea comes like a stroke of genius–tinged with desperation. Someone this incredible deserves something incredible.
When that someone also loves rom-coms and has forced you to watch a multitude of them, there are a plethora of romantic gestures to choose from.
With karaoke humming inside me, I know exactly what to do.
Time to channel my inner Patrick Verona.