Chapter 12 – Jaxon #2
“Quick. Someone capture the moment. Cooper, write down the date and time. It’s…
nine a.m. and I, Jaxon Greene, made Becky do something other than brood.
” Our goalie glances over the mug being swallowed by his hands.
Lips fall into a straight line, jaw sharp enough to cut glass.
I lean over the table to peek into his bowl.
“Did you put sugar in your oatmeal this morning? You dirty dog.”
His phone lights up, and I don’t miss the glow prickling his cheeks. Beck’s mouth ticks up, before he flips over the phone.
“Wait.” Elliot leans over Chase. “Was that Bearspace?”
“No,” Beck bites out suspiciously. He snatches his phone away before she can reach for it.
“It totally was. O.M.G. I can’t believe you have it and use it. Can I see your profile? Did you set a song? We better be in your top friends.”
“Elliot,” Chase calls gently to capture her attention.
“Huh?” She turns to look at him, body cutting diagonally across his, forcing their noses to brush.
Before Chase can respond, there’s a commotion coming from the entrance. Cooper shoots up from his seat at the sound of Jordan’s voice. I’m right behind him, knocking into my tray and spilling my second bowl of cereal.
“Scan it again.” Jordan’s voice stretches across the dining hall. “This is ridiculous, Tommy. You know we’re student athletes.”
Cooper and I weave around tables. He didn’t say anything when I pushed back from my chair, following him. He probably won’t ask, and that’s good because I’m not ready to admit to him that I care about Jordan.
Tommy’s swiveling the computer screen as we approach. “It says access denied. I can’t let you in.”
“Try hers.” Jordan thumbs at Xanie, ID resting between her fingers.
“Same thing. I’m sor—”
Cooper’s quick to bicker with Tommy, trying to find a solution. Jordan crosses her arms over her chest, damp blue hair tucked beneath bent arms. Their sibling similarities are blatant when Cooper mirrors Jordan’s position.
“Tommy,” I coo, dropping an arm around his shoulder like we’ve been best friends our whole life. “What’s it gonna take to let them have breakfast? Anderson reopened today, glitches happen.”
My best friend and I are in sync. Cooper picks up on my telepathic message, discreetly scanning his ID. The screen goes green.
“Look at that. Must’ve been something with their—”
“It says Cooper Carmichael.” He slinks out from me. Cooper and I both flash smiles, mine less apologetic than his. “This isn’t my only job, you know. I work in the Athletic Director’s office and know things.”
“Like what?” Jordan arches a brow, head bobbing right.
“That women’s hockey”—he nods at Xanie’s sweatshirt—“isn’t a sport at Lakeland anymore.” I hate his condescending tone.
Like mirrors of each other, the Carmichael jaws tense, nostrils flare, and if Cooper’s hair was also blue, it would be like a flame about to combust. I’m doing my best to tamper the situation, but internally I’m fighting the urge to not say or do something that might get me suspended from the team.
“They’re already here.” I shrug nonchalantly. “It’s one breakfast. Who is it going to hurt? My one meal is equivalent to like ten of theirs.”
Tommy sighs. “Fine, but I didn’t let you in…and only this once.”
I press a loud kiss to his cheek. “By the way, Liv is going to the football party tonight, and her favorite coffee is an iced mocha with oat milk.” He blinks at me, slowly and with surprise that I know about his secret admiration.
“Light ice, can’t forget that.” I spin, bolting back to our table. “Thanks!”
“A week. It’s been a week,” Cooper seethes, “and they’ve already updated their campus status. Elliot snuck in here for fuck’s sake.”
I raise my hand, pulling up a chair for Xanie and myself. Jordan takes mine. “Technically, I did too.”
I lean into Jordan’s orbit—wow, she smells nice. “You good?” I whisper, checking in. “I can go back over and fight him if I need to. Could use the warm-up for the season.” I flick my brows up.
“Could you even break a board in half?”
“If you care to know, I’m actually a black belt in Taekwondo.” Spent four years going between the rink and dojo. Gran’s a ninth degree, but that’s another story for another day. “I could show you sometime.”
“I don’t want to see your dick, Greene.”
“Ouch. There’s no need to say it like that.”
A Fruit Loop hits me in the forehead, my attention back on Cooper’s one-man monologue.
“Coach and I are working on a solution. He’s poring through budgets, seeing if there’s anything to get the women’s team back, and reaching out to former players about becoming donors.
I’ve never seen the man shaken until he needed to make a cold call.
Remember Lance Barnhart?” Only Beck says yes.
“He jokingly suggested we combine teams, let the girls join ours.”
“Like any of them would want to do that,” Dawson says.
“Your team could use a female touch. All the testosterone can’t be good.” Elliot takes over the conversation, winking at Jordan. “Now that classes are starting, when are you all taking another cycling class?”
Later that afternoon I’m bulk filming content when my phone beeps, Dad’s name and photo popping up on the screen. I answer his video call, propping my phone up against the glass I was using to film with.
What did you do to that shirt? He leans closer to the camera.
“Upgraded the hem,” I sign and speak, noticing he’s not wearing his hearing aids. “Where are your hearing aids?”
Uncomfy. Dead.
I give him a pointed look that doesn’t match the chuckle slipping out of me. I can’t be annoyed he isn’t wearing them; he’s spent over a decade without any. Up until this summer, we didn’t have the money to afford spiffy, expensive, sync to Bluetooth with your phone hearing aids.
Most of last year I was sending checks. And yes, I’ve shocked people with the fun fact: Jaxon Greene knows how to write checks.
I’m a hockey player with beauty and brains, a man of several wonders, and the one person who paid attention in home ec—to my grandma.
I’m doing what I can to assist in alleviating their day-to-day living costs.
Dad eventually found out, rightfully upset, and asked me not to.
It took some convincing, but he agreed that I could save up for hearing aids.
“Are you charging them at night?”
Yes, son. But if I wanted a lecture, I’d go tell Gran Wheel of Fortune is better than Jeopardy.
“You wouldn’t dare.” We both know better than to question Gran’s taste in evening game shows. The most surprising being her newfound love for Love Island. “Where is she tonight?” I ask, she usually pops in to say hi by now.
Dad laughs and it warms my heart. It might be different than the one I encapsulated as a child, but this one is just as special. Get this. She’s on a date, he signs, smirking.
“A date?” My jaw hits the tops of my knees. “With who?”
Someone she met at water aerobics. I haven’t seen my mother this giddy since they lowered the senior citizen age at IHOP.
“Did she make him take her there?”
Probably. That or Chilis. You know the woman loves her triple dipper.
I try to exhale, but it’s relinquished as a lonely sigh. A wave of homesickness crashes into me, and I sink deeper into the end of my bed.
“I wish I could have been there to see her,” I admit. The rock in my throat lodges itself deeper. “Take a video of her when she gets back or call me…if it’s not too late or if she comes home,” I add the joke for my benefit, needing to lighten the air.
Dad gives me a weary smile. I do my best not to let him see me like this, not to let him know how much I miss him. After mom left, she made it clear that she wished I were more like her stepchildren, all I had was Dad.
Our call goes silent for a moment, then another.
Eventually, Dad signs, You’ll be home in November. I printed out your schedule while I was at the academy. You have a weekend series against Cincinnati.
He knows I never look at our schedule ahead of the season.
“Really?” I perk up, surprised Cooper didn’t mention it. Or Beck, who probably already has it tattooed wherever he has space left on his body.
Dad nods. Gran and I already talked, we’re going to do our best to be there.
“I’ll see if there’s anything Coach can do, or if we’ll have free time. I’d love to come home,” I admit and there’s a burst of color that overtakes Dad.
Changing positions, I lie on the floor while we talk. He tells me about the academy, one of the guys I played high school hockey with a new recruit, and I tell him about the placement I landed for student teaching. We talk for an hour or so, finally hanging up when my stomach growls.