Chapter 25 – Jordan
TWENTY-FIVE
JORDAN
At the bench, I take a quick swig of water before I’m being whisked through the gate and into the tunnel leading to the locker rooms. I drop my squeeze-top water bottle, almost tripping over my skates.
“Cooper—”
“No, no, no. You don’t get to Cooper me.” My brother stops, unclipping his helmet to pull it off. Dim light does nothing to mask the fury in his brown eyes or tense facial features. “What the hell are you doing out there?”
“I’m trying out for the men’s team,” I respond plainly, trying to temper any attitude.
“Do you want the C from my jersey? It can be for Captain Obvious.” His eye roll is ridiculous and I have to bite my lip to refrain from snickering. With a sigh, his tone morphs from annoyed to protective. “You could have gotten hurt. Those guys are—”
“Taller than me? Bigger than me? Yeah, I know, but I haven’t gotten hurt.
Have I?” I cross my arms, popping a hip.
This is why I didn’t tell him and won’t be mad at myself for chickening out when I had the chance.
I get he’s being protective; he’s held tightly to that responsibility, but I didn’t expect him to be like Luka.
“You,” it comes out as a pained laugh. “You don’t think I’m good enough to make the team. ”
“That’s—” He jams his eyes shut and shakes his head. A sweaty strand of brown hair falls onto his forehead. “That’s not what I meant. Please tell me you don’t believe that.”
Gently, I shrug my shoulders.
He curses under his breath, scraping a hand down his face. “Jordan, I promise that’s not true. I was taken aback when I realized it was you. I even told Jaxon I wish one of us had our phones because I’d never seen a dude skate as fluidly, they reminded me of you.”
That didn’t take long. Recognition brightened then dimmed his features when we were paired off during the second round of a passing drill. Thankfully, the past hour has been go, go, go. There wasn’t time for him to interrogate me.
“I’m sorry,” he adds.
“You should be.” I poke his chest. “Otherwise, I was going to have to knock you on your ass out there.”
Cooper laughs. “You’re already kicking quite a few.”
The ease that’s always come naturally between us returns. “I’ve been training.”
A dimpled smile paints his face, pride arching his brows. “I can tell.”
I lean back into the wall, dropping my arms at my sides. Cooper comes up beside me and mirrors my position. He sighs. “Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s another sigh. “Or ask me for help? I would’ve.”
On an exhale, I tell him about Luka, which was probably a mistake.
He’s two seconds, one sentence away from storming out of here, keys clutched in his hands, and speeding to Wisconsin’s campus.
“And with how dismissive the AD was, I thought, why not join them and beat them? I didn’t want anyone else in the way, plus I had—” I stop talking, Jaxon’s name on the tip of my tongue.
He doesn’t notice my unfinished sentence, asking, “Do Mom and Dad know?”
“Maybe…”
“Oh, come on. At least tell me Molly doesn’t know.”
“Unless Mom told her, no. I told them yesterday, so it’s not like your entire family was keeping a secret from you.” I give him a teasing smirk. “They want me to call them once I find out if I—”
“You’re going to—”
“No.” The single word is sharp. “You’re not allowed to use your captain powers to make sure the spot is mine. I want to earn it.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You totally were.”
A whistle bounces off the tunnel walls. Cooper draws me in for a hug, taking my arms and wrapping them around him. “Any more secrets I need to know about?”
The lie comes out quickly, otherwise Cooper would be suspicious. “No.”
“Good. I don’t like secrets between us.” He unwraps me from his hug and we start to head back to the ice as he cracks a couple of loving jokes about me being on the team.
I should’ve given up my shift this morning. Aside from lacking the ability to focus, my body aches. Thighs tense and the purpling bruise on my ribs screamed when I nicked the corner of a table.
The remaining sixty minutes of tryouts was spent scrimmaging. No amount of preparation can prepare you for asshats—asshats? I’m spending too much time with Jaxon—who need to show off. And apparently an ice bath and heating pad isn’t enough recovery.
I crouch down behind the front counter of The Mean Bean to finish restocking the cold case.
Tongs in hand, I add pumpkin streusel muffins to the bottom rack next to our apple pie Danishes—both items part of our early fall menu.
I swear pumpkin spice latte season keeps inching earlier and earlier.
Poor pumpkins are going to be a symbol of summer before we know it.
Exchanging trays, the remaining shelves are getting fresh croissants and scones, still hot from the oven. I’m practically salivating at the smell of warm butter and chocolate and ham and cheese.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me I didn’t eat this morning. Nerves getting the better of my appetite and now I’m surviving on caffeine alone.
“Can I take my break?” I ask my manager. They scan the cafe, manageable line and no tables needing cleared, before giving me thirty.
I pop into the break room to pocket my phone on the way to the kitchen. Outside of baked goods, we also have a full-service breakfast and lunch menu.
Unfortunately, it’s not whatever Ravi, our chef, is whipping up that has me wide eyed and heart skipping a beat. I hop up on an empty metal counter, legs swinging back and forth as I unlock my phone. The email app sports a red circle with number five in the center.
“Carmichael,” Ravi calls. “You hungry?”
“Starved.” I divert my gaze away from my finger hovering over the email app. “Any extra breakfast burritos laying around back there?”
“Bacon or sausage?”
“Surprise me.”
“Extra flamin’ hot tots?” My nod is borderline frantic. I’m practically salivating. “Gimme ten minutes,” he laughs out.
Focus returned to my phone, my chest falls with disappointment.
The new email? Another promotion for weekend sales. I delete it along with ten others, then pull up social media doing a double take. I bring the screen closer to my face.
Is that…is that Jaxon?
Bare torso. Trim muscles cutting into a pair of Lakeland hockey breezers. A nipple ring. Light brown hair that’s begging to curl. A cocky smile.
Oh my god, it is.
I know he films dancing videos—I’ve avoided being in the background of several—but they’ve never popped up on my algorithm before. I’m strictly cute dog videos and book recommendations.
Jaxon’s good. Like really good.
Doesn’t miss a beat, hitting each move. I try to zoom in, see the creases of muscles my hands have roved over, but accidentally heart the video.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I tap the heart again turning it white, hopeful that Jaxon didn’t—
A notification pops up at the top of the screen. There are over fifty thousand likes, half that in saves and over a thousand comments, and he noticed my mishap.
Greene
HONORED.
Me
don’t be. it was a mistake.
Greene
mistake that you haven’t liked any of them sooner?
Me
tbh, never watched one
Greene
that requires jail time
Me
you have a fuck ton of followers
Greene
is that more or less than a shit ton?
*tongue out emoji*
Me
i think the scale is: ton, shit ton, fuck ton. either way…it’s a lot.
I think about what he told me about his dad. Jaxon briefly mentioned he’s saving money to help pay for cochlear implants.
Me
question of the day
Greene
ask away but if you’re curious about a cameo or wanting a personally dedicated video or a strip tease, i will gladly make an exception for you
Buttttt only in person *winky face*
As if he can see me, I shake my head at the phone, typing out my question.
Me
is this how you’re earning money?
Greene
it pays for your coffees (;
Me
the ones you trash?
Greene
don’t know what you’re talking about…
but yeah. it’s helping pad my savings account. I should have enough by the end of the season to pay for the implants.
Me
that’s incredible, greene
you’re a pretty great son
Greene
there you go again calling me pretty
thank you, blue. That means a lot
Ravi sets the burrito down beside me and I inhale it in seconds.
Once my break is done, I head out front and am immediately thrown back into the swing of things. We’re busy, which helps the remaining hours of my shift pass by.
It’s early afternoon when I’m walking back to campus. Enjoying the dip in temperature, I pull my bomber jacket tighter around my shoulders.
An out-of-breath Jaxon rounds a street corner, swooping me into a hug. My feet leave the pavement as he swings me in a circle, squeezing tightly.
“Greene,” I grumble. “I prefer having two feet on the ground.”
“Sorry.” Elation is flooding out of him. He can’t stand still, shifting on the balls of his feet. “Have you checked your email?”
I shake my head no.
“You should.”
Jaxon’s patience is eating at him as he watches me unzip my fanny pack, fish out my phone, type in my passcode, and open the email app. He leans forward, almost as if he’s going to take my phone from me. I pull the device to my chest and glower up at him. He just laughs it off.
There it is. Sitting at the top of my inbox.
I open the email. Read each word carefully, some twice, till I reach the semi-colon.
Colt Ritcher
Evan Durhan
Henley Graham
Jordan Carmichael
It happens seamlessly, the corners of my mouth tick up as if they are on marionette strings. Cheeks tinged with satisfaction, and pride drums in my veins.
“So?” Jaxon, impatient as ever, rocks back and forth.
“I guess we’re teammates now,” I say with a hint of attitude and far more casual than how I’m feeling on the inside.
Exuberant, Jaxon embodies each emotion I’m containing. Throwing his arms around my waist, he hoists me into another hug and spins us around.
“I’m so proud of you, Blue.” The words strike something in me, break through a layer of ice, and warmth spreads throughout me. In Jaxon fashion, he repeats affirmations to me, telling me how deserving I am and complimenting my talent.
When he sets me down, I’m flustered. That warmth melting my interior has increased, the moment borderline like the one I found myself pressing up on my skates to kiss Jaxon. I’m about to do it again, eyes flicking down to his mouth.
I shift forward, heels raising off the ground when my bag starts buzzing, vibrating against my back. I settle into the sidewalk and dig out my phone. Cooper’s photo appears on the screen, and already one missed call from him.
“You should answer it,” Jaxon encourages. “He’s been annoying, waiting for the official email to go out. We took his keys, then had to barricade him in his bedroom so he couldn’t bombard you at work. You could say he’s a little excited.”
“He’s excited?”
“I am the definition of calm.”
“Of course.” Jaxon winks. I swipe across the screen. “Hey, Coop.”