Chapter 3 – Jordie
CHAPTER THREE
A hell of a lot less trouble than men
Jordie
SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL
“Morning, Pops,” I say, kissing my stepfather’s smooth, brown cheek as I enter the kitchen the next morning.
“Morning, Jordie girl. Sleep well?”
“Fine,” I say, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge. When I turn back around, Pops is right behind me, his narrowed gaze on my face.
“Your eyes are puffy.”
Dang it. I’d held a cool cloth over them for fifteen minutes in the shower, hoping to eliminate any evidence of my previous night’s cry-fest. Luckily, I’d waited until I was inside the house before the tears came.
“Zack and I broke up,” I blurt.
Pops takes the orange juice from me and sets it on the counter before wrapping me in his warm arms.
“I’m sorry, honey,” he croons as I rest my chin on the top of his head. I’m the second tallest in my family, behind Bubba, and had outgrown Pop when I was in junior high.
“It’s okay. I was upset last night, but I feel better this morning.”
Pops releases me and pats my cheek with his warm, soft hand. “Sit, baby. I have breakfast ready for you. We can talk if you want.”
“Actually, I thought I’d go to Juliette’s after I’m done at the field house.”
Juliette is an amazing big sister, the oldest of us four siblings, and we’re really close, despite our huge age difference.
Bubba, at age thirty-one, is second oldest and the typical big brother, sweet and overprotective.
Xander is the third child, and I adore him, but we love to bicker since we’re only two years apart.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d miss him when he left for college.
“Of course, Jordie girl,” Pops says, nudging me toward the table where there are plates of biscuits, gravy, scrambled eggs, and savory sausage patties. “You’re lucky to have Juliette in your life.”
“I am,” I agree as he hands me the glass of juice he just poured. “Jules is the best.”
He sits beside me, and we both fill our plates. “I’m happy to listen anytime you need me, but I know a young girl needs a woman to talk to when it comes to these things. I’m sorry you don’t—” His eyebrows dip low, and he shovels a bite of eggs into his mouth.
I know he’s thinking about me growing up without a mother, so I pat his hand. “I love our family, and I haven’t missed out on a thing,” I assure him, sincerity ringing in my voice.
I don’t remember my mother at all. From what I’ve been told, Delphine was married to my dad, Emmett, and had Juliette.
Then they divorced and she married Isaac Ward—the man beside me—who we all call Pops.
They had Bubba, and Mom left shortly after that to God only knows where.
Over a decade later, she returned and remarried my father, having Xander and then me two years later.
Soon after I was born, she took off again, so I was raised by Dad and Pops, who shared fifty-fifty custody of me and my siblings.
Yes, it’s a bit of a strange situation, but they didn’t want to separate us kids, and I’m glad they made that decision.
We’re just one big, crazy, blended family now, and we all celebrate together for every birthday, holiday, and accomplishment.
Pops smiles through his chewing. “I have the best kids in the world.”
Though Jules, Xander, and I aren’t his biological children, I dare anyone to say that to his face. My sweet, gentle Pops will turn into a fierce papa bear at any insinuation that we’re not a real family, blood be damned.
I meant it when I said I haven’t missed out on anything. Both our houses were filled with nothing but love, and I never even thought about my absentee mother.
Well, to be honest, sometimes I did have thoughts, wondering where she was and if she ever thought about me. But it doesn’t matter. I have all I need.
“Hey, McNamara,” Coach Cooper says, sitting beside me in the film room where I’m once again going over past games of West Creek, our upcoming opponents in the playoffs. The rest of the team left thirty minutes ago.
“Sorry, sir, do I need to go?” I ask, pausing the video on the screen.
“Nope, just wondering how I can get you added to the payroll as part of the coaching staff,” he jokes. “You put in more work in the film room than half my coaches.”
“I enjoy it,” I tell him honestly.
Coach starts the video again. “Tell me what you see here.”
I check my notes. “Well, they have a really good cornerback, number twenty-seven. He has eighteen interceptions so far this year. He’s big and fast, so they’ll probably put him on me or Tyrell,” I recite.
“Their other corners are slower and smaller, so that will leave one of us always open. West Creek’s offensive line is pretty good, but not good enough to hold back the Ram,” I say, referring to Jay Ramsey, our fullback with legs the size of tree trunks.
Coach Coop smiles and nods. “I agree with all that.”
“Knock, knock!” a cheery voice says as a sliver of light widens from the door. “Jordie! I was hoping you’d still be here.”
Coach Cooper’s wife enters on a cloud of energy. That’s the best word I can think of to describe Lainey Cooper. Energy. She’s brimming with the stuff. It seems like even her curly blonde hair is alive, bouncing with every step of her petite frame.
“Wow, it’s like I’m not even here,” Coach teases, and his gorgeous wife laughs before dropping a kiss on his head.
“Oh, I guess I’m happy to see you too.”
“Hi, Ms. Lainey,” I say, rising to accept her hug. She’s a big hugger.
“Girl! Great game last night. It was so exciting,” Lainey gushes, talking ninety miles an hour like usual. “I know we won by three touchdowns, but it was still a thrill just to watch y’all play. Here, I brought you these.”
She hands over a small paper plate with three iced cookies on it.
One has my name, another has a Bulldog paw print, and the other reads MVP!
!! Complete with three exclamation points.
She’s seriously the most adorable person I’ve ever met, dressed in head-to-toe maroon like the super fan she is.
Her sweatshirt reads, “I KISSED COACH COOPER” in sparkly white letters and has PTF BULLDOGS down each sleeve.
Even her fingernails and shoelaces have paw prints.
I give her another squeeze. “This is so sweet, Ms. Lainey. Your cookies are the best and always so cute.”
She pats my forearm and admits, “I used to be horrible at decorating, but when I became a coach’s wife, I took a class so I could make treats for the team.”
Coach Cooper looks at his wife with hearts in his eyes, like she’s the greatest thing since the invention of the forward pass. “You do an amazing job, babe. And the muffins you made for the team this morning were delish.”
I nod my agreement. “I ate a blueberry and an apple cinnamon, even though I already had breakfast with Pops this morning.”
“Oh, I just love Isaac. I sat beside him at the game last night. He’s so proud of you,” Lainey says, pulling a bottle of water from her giant maroon Bulldogs tote and taking a drink. “I swear, I screamed myself hoarse by the third quarter.”
Coach Cooper quirks a brow at me. “My normally sweet wife likes to heckle the refs.” I try not to giggle.
Lainey humphs. “They should get some dang glasses or something if they don’t want to be yelled at.
They missed at least four holding calls in the first half alone.
” She reaches into her bag again and rummages around as she changes the subject once more.
“Jordie, are you going to see your sister today? I have a book she loaned me. Not from the library, one of her personal ones.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m going over there after I wrap up here.”
She finally finds what she’s looking for and hands over a small paperback about writing. “Awesome. Tell her thank you for loaning this to me.”
“Are you an author, Ms. Lainey?” I ask, carefully putting the book into my backpack. I know she owns the town flower shop and that she’s the unofficial team mom, but I had no idea she wrote too.
“Oh, a little bit, but I’m much newer at this than Juliette,” she says, waving a dismissive hand at me. “Your sister has been amazing and has helped me so much with this process.”
“Well, I think it’s cool that we have two authors in our little town. Do you write romance like my sister?”
Her face pinkens in the cutest way, but she nods.
“I do. I have a few books out, but nothing you need to read, missy.” Lainey waggles a stern finger at me, and I don’t tell her I’ve been secretly reading Juliette’s spicy books for over a year.
“And please don’t tell anyone. I write under a pen name since my husband works for the school.
There are some judgmental folks out there who might take offense. ”
“Yes, ma’am.” I tap the ball cap I’m wearing. “I’ll keep it under my hat.”
“Okay, I’m gonna scoot. I have to get back to the flower shop.
I’m making maroon bows for all the businesses downtown to put on their front doors, and the cheerleaders are coming by to decorate signs and stuff to put up all over town.
I donated eight hundred yards of ribbon to them, so we’re going to turn this entire town maroon for the rest of the playoffs. ”
“We appreciate it, Ms. Lainey. It makes the team feel good to see all the support when we drive around town.”
Her shoulders scrunch happily. “That’s why we do it. We want you to know how proud we are of all you kids. Win or lose, though we all know the Dawgs are going to win state this year.” She flutters a hand in front of her now-wet eyes. “Oh, I’ve got to go before I get all emotional.”
Lainey hugs me once more and then gives her husband a kiss on the cheek. It’s chaste, but I don’t miss the way Coach’s eyes follow her from the room, probably checking out how fantastic his wife’s butt looks in those leggings.
“Ms. Lainey is the best,” I say, settling into the seat again.