Chapter 5 – Jordie
CHAPTER FIVE
Don’t make a butthole of yourself
Jordie
ALMOST TWO YEARS LATER
“I’m so excited,” I squeal, hugging my new roommate as soon as she walks into our dorm room on a sunny day in August. I'm about to start my sophomore year, and my roommate from last year graduated in May, so I’ve been assigned a first-year player.
“Me too,” Carrie Broxton says.
My face freezes when a large man steps into the doorway.
Holy fucking shit. That’s Axel Broxton.
I mean, I knew Carrie was the daughter of the famous NFL tight end, but seeing him in person, in my dorm room, is a whole other ball of wax.
The man was just nominated for the Hall of Fame, and he is absolutely glorious.
Dark, wavy hair, blue eyes, and a body like a god, even though he’s in his early forties now.
“That’s my dad, Axel,” Carrie says oh-so-casually, like I’m not about to have a complete heart attack right now.
“Um, hi, Mr. Broxton. I hate to sound like a total fangirl, but you’re my favorite player ever in the NFL.
You’re the reason I wanted to be a tight end.
That performance you put on against San Francisco six years ago was the single best football game I’ve ever seen.
Five touchdown receptions, and I’m sure your season YAC average must have gone up at least ten points just from that day alone.
And oh my god, I’m rambling.” I fan my face. “I am so sorry.”
He laughs and enters the room, pulling one hand from the pocket of his navy-blue shorts to shake my hand.
Axel freaking Broxton is literally touching my hand right now, and I’m concerned for my health.
Is it normal for my heart to beat this quickly?
I have the biggest crush on him, though not in a sexual way. It’s more of a… football crush.
“Jordie, I’m a big fan of yours as well. You were a standout last season as a freshman. Very impressive.”
Holy hell, the best tight end in the history of the NFL has watched me play? I’m retroactively nervous at the thought.
“Thank you, Mr. Broxton. That means a lot coming from you.” Yeah, that sounded good. Nice and cool, Jordie. Don’t make a butthole of yourself. I clamp my lips shut before I do exactly that.
“We’re excited you two are going to be roommates,” the football god says, pulling Carrie to him with a big arm around her neck and kissing the top of her head. “Right, Care Bear?”
“Daa-aaaa-add!” she complains, drawing the word out. “I told you not to embarrass me.”
I laugh and assure her, “Don’t worry about it. My family will be here in a few minutes, and I’m sure they’ll completely humiliate me.”
Axel grins. “It’s our right as parents. Kind of a payback for getting puked on and having to suffer through the dramatic preteen years.” His nose scrunches up. “Not sure which was worse.”
Carrie elbows him playfully, and he gives an exaggerated wince. These two look so much alike. She’s around six foot three, so a few inches shorter than her dad, but Axel definitely branded her with his dark, wavy hair and sapphire eyes.
“I think you’ve met my brother, Mr. Broxton,” I start, but he corrects me.
“Call me Axel. Please.”
I stumble over my words. “I-I’ll try, A-Axel.”
He lets out a low chuckle. “You’ll get used to it. Your brother is Ward, the hockey player, right?” At my nod, he continues. “We did a commercial together a while back. Great guy. How the hell is he?”
“Good. He’ll be here with most of the rest of my family,” I tell him, rolling my eyes though I’m secretly pleased for their support.
“I didn’t realize you two were related until I ran into him recently,” he says, cocking an eyebrow but politely leaving out the obvious lack of resemblance between us.
Bubba is mixed race with dark hair and eyes, while I’m White with blonde hair and aqua eyes.
Not to mention we have different last names.
“We’re half-siblings. We share a mother,” I say before explaining. “She’s not in the picture.” I always feel the need to point that out before people inevitably ask where she is.
Carrie wraps an arm around my shoulder. “That’s okay. I can loan you my mom if you ever need anything. She’s super sweet.”
The gesture is so kind and sincere it almost makes me tear up. Then we hear a voice from down the hall.
“I swear to god, Dex, if you fart one more time, I’m going to plug your butthole with a wine cork.”
Axel quirks a brow. “And there’s my super sweet wife.”
I snort out a laugh as a gorgeous auburn-haired woman enters the room.
I recognize her instantly as Dr. Blaire Broxton, wife of Axel, mother of five children, and successful orthopedic surgeon.
She’s the team doctor for her husband’s team, the Fort Worth Wranglers, as well as for Bubba’s professional hockey team, the Dallas Brewers.
She’s followed by three boys who appear to be around eleven or twelve. Two of them are tall and a bit lanky, while the third is a couple inches shorter with the broad build of a linebacker. A younger girl enters behind them, her nose buried in what looks like a young adult mystery novel.
Their mom crosses and engulfs me in a hug, the soft scent of sugar and expensive perfume invading my nose. She smells exactly how I’ve always thought a mom should smell, and I return the embrace.
“Oh, we’re just thrilled to meet you, Jordie.” The woman pulls back and holds me by the shoulders, her smile white and beaming. “I was so hoping our little Care Bear would get a good roommate for her freshman year.”
“Yes ma’am,” I say, trying not to laugh at Carrie’s exasperated sigh at once again being called Care Bear. “We’ll have lots of fun, and I’ll show Carrie the ropes around here.”
“Thank you. It’s hard when your first-born leaves the nest.” She reaches over and strokes an affectionate hand down Carrie’s curls, and a twinge of something like envy spikes through my chest. “But I felt better the instant I saw that you two were assigned as roommates.”
“Coach Berry likes to pair freshmen with someone who’s been here at least a year, to help with the transition.”
“Great idea,” Blaire says, taking my hand and dragging me across the wood floor.
Our rooms are surprisingly large for dormitories, but it’s starting to get crowded with eight of us in here.
“Let me introduce you to the rest of my kids. These are the triplets, Dex, Max, and Rox,” she says, pointing at each boy.
Dex, the apparent gassy one of the group, is the broader boy. He and Rox greet me politely before Max steps up and takes my hand, kissing the back of it.
“Charmed, I’m sure, your royal hotness,” he croons formally before flinching when his dad cuffs him on the back of the head.
“I mean, it’s very nice to meet you, Jordie.
” With his back to Axel, he flashes me a cheeky wink that has me rolling my lips in to stifle a giggle at his antics.
This kid is going to be trouble with a capital T when he’s older.
Blaire pulls the youngest forward. “And this is the baby of the family, Danica. Dani, can you please put the book down for two seconds and say hello to Jordie?”
The young lady pulls the book down and tucks it beneath her arm, offering a shy smile. She looks so much like her mother, though her red hair is a few shades darker. “Hi, Jordie. Nice to meet you.”
I shake her hand. “You too, Dani. You like reading?” She nods enthusiastically, and I add, “My sister, Juliette, is a librarian. I’ll bet you two will get along great.”
“Really? I love libraries. I want to be a novelist one day and fill the shelves with my words.” She speaks so earnestly for a girl so young.
“That’s awesome. My sister also writes books.” I realize my mistake as soon as the words are out of my mouth. Juliette, a.k.a. Julie Mack, writes super spicy scenes that are definitely not for the eyes of children.
Dani’s green eyes brighten, and she pulls a phone from the pocket of her denim shorts. “That’s so cool. Are they on ?”
My guilty eyes flash to Blaire in apology before returning to the young girl. “They’re actually mushy love stories, so probably nothing you’d be interested in,” I say in as dismissive a tone as I can muster. “But I bet she’ll have tons of recommendations for you.”
As if summoned, my sister’s cheery voice enters the room. “We’re here!”
She pops in, followed by Pops, Dad, Xander, Bubba, and his wife, Holly. Thank goodness Juliette finally broke up with that douchebag, Collin, a while back.
My family members greet the older Broxtons and are introduced to their five kids before Blaire claps her hands and announces, “Okay, there are too many people in here, and it’s starting to get stuffy.
” She’s not wrong. We’re cramped, fourteen people standing shoulder to shoulder in a space designed for two. “Let’s divide and conquer.”
“We could take the girls to Home Goods while the men use their muscles to bring in boxes,” Juliette suggests. We all agree, making our collective way out into the hallway, where other athletes and their families are busy with move-in day.
On her way out, Blaire calls over her shoulder, “Remember to lift with your legs, guys. I’m not in the mood to perform back surgery today.”
Later that evening, Carrie and I are finally alone, resting on our beds in our newly decorated room. She’s a little bit girly while I’m more of a tomboy, but we coordinated her pinks and my blues with a couple simple prints on the wall that blend our styles nicely.
“Thank god they gave us larger beds than normal dorm rooms,” Carrie sighs, stretching out on her cotton-candy-pink bedspread.
“They are really nice,” I agree before rolling onto my side and propping my head in my palm. “I love your whole family.”
“Yours is pretty awesome too.” Carrie mirrors my position and grins. “You even like my little brothers?”
That makes me laugh. Having dinner with the Broxton triplets was an experience. Rox, the most outgoing of the three, had flirted shamelessly with me from the antipasti to the Italian entrees and all the way through dessert.
“Even them. And I hope I didn’t embarrass myself in front of your dad. He’s seriously my idol.”
She giggles. “You were so nervous at first, and then by the end you were all, ‘See ya later, Ax.’”
“I wasn’t the only one fangirling. Did you see all the women flocking to him when we entered the restaurant?”
Carrie rolls her eyes. “It’s always like that. And they were all over your brother too.”
Though hockey isn’t as big as football in Texas, there seem to be quite a few puck bunnies in the Lone Star state, and they were all apparently in the Italian restaurant where we ate tonight.
Thank goodness Axel had the foresight to rent out the private back room for our large party, so we got to eat in relative peace.
“I’m not really accustomed to seeing that because everyone in my small town is used to Bubba. I thought Holly was going to punch that one chick.”
“If she wasn’t pregnant, I’m sure she would have,” Carrie says, reaching over to dig out two bags of spicy almonds from her drawer. “They already have a little boy, right?”
I nod. “Yes, Aiden. He’s a little over a year old now.” My roommate tosses me one of the bags, and I tear it open. “Did your dad pressure you to play football?”
Carrie uses the band on her wrist to tie her curls up into a messy bun.
“Not at all. I was actually supposed to play basketball in college, but when we started hearing rumblings about a professional football league for women, I shifted my focus. After the combine, I got invited for a tryout for the team here and made it.”
“I’m glad you did,” I say warmly, popping two savory almonds into my mouth and chewing. “What made you decide to play defense instead of offense like your dad?”
She shrugs. “I guess I didn’t want the comparison. Kinda forging my own path or something.”
“I can understand that. You don’t want to live in your dad’s shadow.”
“Exactly. I’m sure the only reason I got invited for a tryout was because I’m the daughter of Axel Broxton, so I just decided to play on the other side of the ball.” Carrie wets her lips with her tongue. “I need a drink.”
“I’ll grab us some waters,” I say, rising from my bed.
“You know, I always thought it was brave of Laila Ali to become a boxer. I mean, her father was one of the greatest of all times, and for her to go into a sport that’s historically a man’s sport…
I don’t know, I think that took a lot of guts. Just like you with football.”
“It’s always been my favorite. Football has been in my blood since I was a little girl.” Her voice turns contemplative and a little dreamy. “I remember running up and down the field, tossing the ball around with the other players’ kids after games.”
“I love that,” I say, pulling open the door to the kitchen and lounge we share with our suitemates. Before I can reach the refrigerator, a knock sounds on the main door of our room, and I backtrack. “Wonder who that is.”
When I swing open the door, I’m surprised to find our head coach, Adeline Berry, standing there in a team T-shirt and athletic shorts. She’s about my height, with mahogany skin, short braids, and her customary look of fierceness.
“Coach Berry, hi. Is something wrong?”
“Is Broxton in here with you?” she asks, cutting straight to the point, like always. If you looked up no-nonsense in the dictionary, there would be a picture of Adeline Berry.
Carrie appears beside me in an instant, standing at attention like she’d been summoned by a drill sergeant. “I’m here, Coach, sir, I mean, ma’am.”
Our coach’s brown eyes narrow, holding the moment for longer than necessary before saying, “Both of you. In my office. Six minutes.” Then she turns and marches away, leaving Carrie and I scrambling to find our shoes in a panic.
“Holy crap,” Carrie hisses as we jet out the door a minute later. “I’ve been here for five minutes and already getting called into the coach’s office. What do you think this is about?”
“I have no clue,” I tell her, “but I’m sure it’s nothing bad.”
At least I hope not.