Chapter 18 – Jordan
EIGHTEEN
JORDAN
Cooper honks, his Jeep rolling into the turnaround in my dorm parking lot. Clinging to the last few days, potentially weeks, of warm weather, he has the soft top rolled back and doors off.
I climb in, turning down the playlist I regretfully recognize as one of Jaxon’s. Each time we’re on the ice or in the weight room, and even when we run, he ditches his earbuds because I don’t use them. There’s always a new playlist. Cooper turns off the music entirely.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“All good.” A mischievous smirk curls the corners of his mouth, dimples popping. “Plus, now we can eavesdrop. Get ahead on the summer gossip.”
Freshman move-in was over the weekend; and the remainder of upperclassmen are back, reviving Lakeland. On my way back from the arena this morning, the lawn in the center of campus was already littered with students and brick pathways overrun with bikers and an occasional Razor scooter.
“Nosy.” I jostle his shoulder.
“Oh, come on. You know you want the gossip too.”
“That’s what Elliot is for,” I remind him.
“True, but now we can beat her to it.” He changes gears, heading out of the parking lot and toward downtown Bensen.
Ten minutes later, our gossip bank empty, we’re walking through the door of a popular breakfast joint as someone calls out, “Sit anywhere you like.”
Cooper slides onto a cracked linoleum bar stool next to me, shuffling menus out from between glass condiment bottles.
All aspects of The Hamburger Inn scream retro diner.
Besides the new appliances, everything in here is original down to the studs, including the white-haired older couple who are behind the wrap-around counter, taking orders and whipping up three-egg omelets.
It’s quaint, and a staple for Lakeland students needing work. Speaking of—
“Hi, Cooper Carmichael.” Our waitress bats her eyes at my brother, greeting him by name and with a cheeky smile, before even acknowledging my presence. Life of a campus celebrity’s sister.
“Hi”—his warm brown eyes flick to her name tag—“Michelle.”
I stare at them, eyes dropping to confused slits. Pretty positive we did a group project together last year and her name isn’t Michelle.
“Oh, it’s actually Michaela. They printed the wrong name, and now these specific name tags are on back order, but we are expected to wear one, and—I’m rambling. You can call me Michelle if you want.”
“Got it, Michelle-Michaela.”
That makes the corners of her mouth touch her ears, cheeks deepen to a darker shade of her blush. “Can I get you started with any drinks?”
Cooper side-eyes me over the top of a laminated menu. “You ready?”
Sometimes there are such things as a stupid question. I nod in way that screams duh. We’ve been coming here since his recruiting visit, and if I had to guess we’ve both ordered the same thing every time. It helps that the menu hasn’t changed since the eighties.
“Ladies first.” My brother gestures to me, dropping his menu onto the checkered placemat.
I rattle off our drink orders. Cooper is one of those people, the subset that enjoys black coffee.
“And the vegan pancakes with a side of bacon, please.” So maybe their menu has changed since the place opened in 1956, but I won’t question their selection of vegan and nut-free offerings—their daughter is vegan, and granddaughter is allergic to peanuts.
Cooper, as expected, orders what he refers to as the gauntlet. Three over-medium eggs, bacon and sausage patties, wheat toast, loaded hashbrowns, a side of fruit, and a stack of chocolate chip pancakes.
And he claims to dislike breakfast food.
“Plus a cinnamon roll,” I tack on while he scans the menu for something else he could potentially fit in his stomach.
“But—”
I wave him off. “Cut in half and grilled.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope, that’ll be all.” Michaela reads back our order before skipping back to the kitchen. “I took my lactose medicine this morning on the odd chance we ended up here.”
“When they don’t work, and you’re complaining of a stomachache, don’t call me.”
“It won’t.”
“Wanna bet? If you have one later, then you—”
“I’m a girl, my stomach always hurts.”
“If you have a stomachache, severe enough to miss class, then you have to dye green streaks into your hair,” Cooper lovingly ignores me to continue his thought.
“And if I win?” I arch a brow.
“I’ll let you paint my nails.”
“Beck’s sister already does that.” I lift and drop a purple glitter nail. “Nice sparkles by the way.”
“Goes with my eyes.”
“If I win,” I continue, “you have to spend twenty-four hours here or eat twenty-four pancakes.” Extending a hand to him, he takes it.
Michaela drops off our coffees along with two waters, never once minding me. Her golden eyes locked in on Cooper and his friendly smile and charming way he says thank you.
I scoff, muttering, “Flirt.”
“I am not a flirt. I have a girlfriend, you know.”
Pretend shock nestles in my features. “Really?”
He balls up the paper from a straw and throws it at me, hitting me square in the temple. I pick it up from where it’s landed on the table and drop it into his coffee.
Cooper and I have always been two peas in a pod. We’re eighteen months apart, a surprise third baby when Mom was only six months postpartum. What felt like always a milestone behind him, I think our competitiveness started before either of us could string together full-fledged sentences.
I went everywhere Cooper went, did everything Cooper did—despite having an older sister.
I never wanted to raid her closet or steal her lip gloss when she wasn’t looking.
Sure, I teased her about boys and even tattled when I found her kissing one in her bedroom in middle school.
Or came to her for help when I had my first crush, insecure about what to wear on our first date.
Molly and I are close; I loved flying to New York over the summer to spend weekends with her, but nothing compares to my relationship with Cooper.
“Anyone on the horizon for you?” Again, nosy.
I kissed your best friend. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him.
A warmth floods my insides at the memory of Jaxon’s mouth and body on mine yesterday, but I extinguish it as soon as it morphs to Jaxon leaving without a word, without even a glance back at me, and an unanswered midnight call when I was wide awake, turned on, and curious what transpired between us.
“No.” I aggressively cut into my pancakes after dousing the stack with warm, homemade syrup.
“Youknowyoucantellme,” he says mid-chew.
The thing is I could tell Cooper…
He wouldn’t be happy, probably storm out of here, track Jaxon’s location and go all big brother on him, get the answers I’m suddenly too chicken to ask for myself.
Protectiveness is ingrained in him, albeit annoying.
Being a grade below Cooper had its perks, but it also meant he knew everything…
and everyone. When junior prom rolled around, he set up a table in the cafeteria to host interviews to be my prom date, and again during my senior year, recruiting one of the guys from the hockey team to take notes and send them to him.
At least last fall, he opted for printing photos of eligible students I could take to our annual donors’ gala.
I roll my eyes. “And this is why I dated someone who didn’t go to Lakeland.”
“That piece of shit?” He scoffs, shoveling a forceful bite of pancake into his mouth.
Melted chocolate clings to his chin. “We don’t play them till after Halloween, and I’m glad I don’t have to see his smug face till then.
” Same here, and hopefully it’ll be when we beat him.
“Should I set you up? I’m a pretty good dating tutor, if you didn’t know. ”
“You’re dating your tutee. I think I’ll pass.”
He shrugs, a blush descending from his cheeks to his neck while he layers a sausage patty onto buttered toast, then adds bacon and eggs smothered in hot sauce. “Suit yourself.”
It’s good to see my brother smiling again—an authentic one. Guilt ate at me after I learned of his burnout. The panic attacks and dread that accompanied him out on the ice, and the strain on his relationship with Dad.
How could I have missed all the signs? I failed him as a sister.
I wasn’t there for him like he’s always been for me.
I leaned on him when he was the one needing a crutch.
I didn’t think twice about the name emblazoned on our backs and the weight it carried for him.
The media has never cared for me like it cares for Cooper.
After last semester as Sutton’s case study for her independent sports psychology project, he started therapy.
Spent the entire summer meeting with Lakeland’s new student-athlete psychologist—Coach Mathieson had all the guys on the team meet with him at the end of the season, and I know they’re all scheduled again prior to the season starting.
He’s got his spark back, even if part of it is due to a curly-haired redhead. A few days ago, I was early to ice time with Jaxon, catching the two of them out there together. They were goofing off, Cooper doing little to hide the boy who moves like he was born with skates on his feet.
I take another bite, eyes fixated on his second dimple, the one that only shows up when he’s really smiling. It almost pulls a smile out of me, but then I watch him roll up ketchup-splattered eggs on a pancake.
Cooper swallows, pausing his feast to tug a small composition notebook from the back pocket of his worn Levi’s.
The Lisa Frank stickers scattered on the cover have my throat going dry.
It’s been eight years, and it’s never gotten easier.
I blink, giving myself a second before reading the green and pink bubble letters that make up our names.
I’m not surprised he has it. Not surprised he pulled it out, or the matching green and pink pens I have tucked away in my fanny pack.
The last day of summer used to be Katie’s favorite day of the year.
It was her New Year’s Eve. Every year for a decade, we’d spend the day doing the same thing: woken up by her mom to the smell of fresh, homemade cinnamon rolls—which she insisted on being split in half and grilled—setting goals for the school year, followed by ringing out every last drop of a pool day at her townhouse complex pool, and then picking out outfits for the first week.
My style wasn’t much different then as it is now, but she always—like Xanie—tried to get me into dresses and non-neutral colors.
Mom had two best friends growing up: Sutton’s mom and Katie’s mom, Bethany.
She had a falling out with Bethany during their senior year of high school.
But when Bethany called after finding out she was pregnant and needed to leave her abusive boyfriend, Mom, pregnant with me, dropped everything to help her.
They rekindled their friendship, and I was lucky to get a built-in friend.
We may have been forced to be friends, our birthdays days apart, but I like to think Katie chose me. The only person who never minded my rougher edges. Katie dulled them, softening me up and dragging out a spontaneous side of me.
Yolo was her favorite motto.
She passed away in eighth grade from cancer. Katie was diagnosed in third grade, fighting like hell before it spread to her blood. I knew she was sick. Knew that it would be a miracle if she graduated high school. Knew I’d at least get to say goodbye.
But it didn’t hurt any less.
I dreaded starting high school without her.
Dreaded having to make a new best friend.
Cooper knocked on my bedroom door, the notebook I had thrown irrationally into the trash in his hands.
We biked to a bakery, ordered a cinnamon roll, the only way she’d eat them, and we wrote down our goals for the year.
He’s maintained the tradition, coming home the day before my senior year when he was supposed to be starting college and all three of my years at Lakeland. Cooper promised that next year, he’d drive in from Chicago, the NHL team he’s signed with.
“Senior and junior year.” He flips to the next blank page. I take the composition book from him, writing our names at the top of our pages to avoid more of his chicken scratch. “Have you thought about your wishes for the year?”
“Sort of.” We switch, notebook for cinnamon roll. “You?”
“Win another Frozen Fou—” he writes and starts to say.
I cough, cutting him off. There are rules; you aren’t supposed to share or read the other person’s wishes for the year, otherwise they won’t come true.
“Fine. Then stop peeking.” Cooper twists his arm to hide what he’s writing, finishing with a satisfied sigh, folding the page over.
We trade back. “You can have the rest.”
“You just want to win our bet. Not gonna happen, little sis.” The dramatics. He’s been living with Jaxon for too long. Cooper shoves the remaining bites into his mouth as I put pen to paper, crossing out several words till I land on my goals for the year. I write them out:
Make the men’s team & beat Luka
Not flunk biology
Stop being so cold
And as a bonus, I add:
Forget about kissing Jaxon Greene