Chapter 40 – Jaxon
FORTY
JAXON
Cooper has an arm slung loosely around Sutton’s shoulders, playing with one of her springy curls.
Dawson slips his hand into Jake’s, placing a kiss on his cheek.
Elliot licks her thumb before fixing Chase’s hair, his cheeks and ears the same color as his sweatshirt.
Beck…well, he’s being Beck. His arms aren’t crossed against his broad chest, so I’d concur he’s less broody, probably happy about his shutout or what has him invested in his phone.
I flick the bill of my hat, run a hand through my damp curling ends, before flipping the hat around and dragging the bill backward as I walk up to them. Doing a quick sweep of the lobby, I don’t spot Jordan.
She wasn’t in the locker room either.
She hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts.
I know she’s upset. I know that behind the faux enthusiasm after our win, a forced grin and neutral “good games”, she’s frustrated at herself.
If Jordan Carmichael were a language, then consider me fluent.
“Tipsy Bear?” Chase proposes as I complete the circle.
“Lemme text Jordan and see if she wants to come.” Cooper slips his arm off of Sutton and digs his phone out of the pocket of his worn Levi’s.
Sutton pointedly makes eye contact with me whilst replying to her boyfriend’s question. “She already took off. Wanted to take a shower at her dorm, something about forgetting her color-specific shampoo.”
A swoosh pings. “I let her know we’ll be there. Ready?”
We begin our exit from the arena, accepting good games and nice goals and great blocks as we head out the doors.
Halfway to Cooper’s car, I pretend to pat down the pockets of my cargo pants. “Shit. Forgot my phone in the locker room,” I fib. The guys stop, turning to look at me. “Y’all go ahead, it’ll be packed. Meet you there.”
“You sure? That’s a long walk.”
“Good for the soul.”
Cooper chuckles, shaking his head at me.
“Text me when you’re on your way.” He and Sutton disappear down the aisle of cars.
I take a few slow steps backward, keeping my eyes on them.
He unlocks his car, opening the passenger door and sneaking a kiss before rounding the front.
I wait till I spot headlights and hear the roar of the engine, Cooper peeling out of the parking lot in the opposite direction I plan to go.
As soon as his Jeep’s taillights dim in the distance, I go to Jordan. Weaving between students heading back to their dorms or a party, I’m luckily only stopped once.
“Greene, looking to celebrate that assist tonight?” Georgia, a girl I hooked up with last semester, says as I pass by.
I spin, backpedaling. “That’s where I’m heading now.” I wink.
She looks disappointed, but that quickly fades when the friend she’s with—who I think I may have also hooked up with—reminds her she has a date tonight.
“Maybe next time,” she still says.
“Maybe next time,” I repeat. There won’t be a next time. There won’t be anyone else. There’s only Jordan.
Jordan’s door is unlocked when I get there, sneaking in behind another student and taking as many stairs as my legs allow me at a time.
“Fuck,” I mutter, rubbing at the spot on my upper thigh that was attacked by the corner of the counter.
It’s dark. The only light trickling in through the drawn back curtains is from the flickering streetlamp outside.
Heading toward the bathroom, no light pours out from under the closed door. I spin, catching a dim light extending from her bedroom.
When I open the door, the sight stings.
Jordan’s slumped against the foot of her bed. Knees pulled into her chest, arms protectively hugged around them, and face hidden between her bent knees.
I drop down next to her, and without a second thought, pull her into my lap. She molds to my body, letting me hold her. Behind the sniffles, her breathing is slow but steady, and it’s what’s keeping me tethered.
“You didn’t need to come here.” The words are muffled and punctuated. She tilts her chin up, a stream of mascara runs down one cheek. I reach out, pad of my thumb rubbing it away. “There’s probably someone else you’d rather be with.”
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” I find her eyes. The spark that’s been lit in them for weeks is dull, on the edge of burnout. “No one I’d rather be with,” I say into her hair, planting a soft kiss after. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Jordan shakes her head against my chest.
“Have you eaten, or taken a shower?”
Her head jostles into my chest, again. Unfolding my legs, I stand with Jordan in my arms, carrying her to the bathroom. Inside, I flip on a light and set her on the counter, boxing her in with hands on either side of her thighs, my thumbs draw circles on the sides.
“Where’s your makeup remover?” She tries to get off the counter. “I’ve got it.”
“Bottom drawer.”
I find the wipes, opening the sticker seal to retrieve a wipe. Her independence—or whatever happened today—has her reaching to take the wipe. I gently set her hand on top of her thighs, softly smiling at her.
“I’ve got it.”
“I can—”
“Take care of yourself? I know you can, and I admire your independence, but let me do it. Let me take care of you, Blue.”
“Jaxon.” There’s something in her voice I can’t quite place. A new way she says my name that has me wishing no one else ever says it again.”
She’s independent to a fault. A trait that’s become a strength and weakness. It’s admirable, but I fear she uses it as a protective mechanism. I want her to know that with me there’s nothing to protect herself from. I’ll protect her. I’ll be there for her. I’ll choose her.
“I’m here.” I press a kiss to her forehead, and she relaxes. “I’ve got you.”
Slowly, I use the wipe to remove her makeup. Cleaning up the skin around her eyes and cheeks. The entire time, her gaze never leaves mine. Green shackles to brown, and I hope the key is lost because I could live in her spotlight.
“Arms up,” I coax after running a bath. My fingers find the bottom of her—my hoodie.
“Sorry,” she apologizes. “I’ve meant to return it.”
“Liar,” I call her out, and there’s the faintest lift of her lips. “It looks better on you, anyways.”
“Could you—” She bites her lip. “Could you maybe wear it? It stopped smelling like you a few nights ago.”
It’s cute. The way she scrunches her nose as if what she asked is a bad smell. It has my heart skipping a beat, something lodging itself in my chest.
“I think I can do that.”
I finish pulling the sweatshirt over her head, then work on her sports bra. It’s tight, and when the palms of my hands brush against her pointed nipples we both suck in a sharp inhale of warm air, my sweats definitely tighter.
Her biker shorts go next.
I check that the tub is filled. Cutting off the water, I add a few drops of essential oils I found on the plastic tiered shelf. I help her off the counter and into the tub.
Jordan sinks beneath the surface, a sigh escaping her lips.
I toe off my sneakers, sweatshirt and sweatpants piling on top. Unlike Jordan, who doesn’t like to wear any, I strip out of my boxer briefs.
Naked, body warm from her wistful stare, I stride confidently over to the tub. “Scoot up.”
I climb in behind her, legs falling to either side of her. Water splashes over the side, the tub not exactly made for two people. My thighs are squeezed up against the porcelain. Jordan leans into me, the back of her head pressed between my pecs.
“This is nice.”
“It is.” I run my hands over her stomach. Taut skin over defined muscles. Thumbs scrape against the underside of her breasts. “Which one’s your shampoo?”
She points to an odd-shaped bottle to our left.
The lid pops when I open it. I squeeze a generous amount into my hand before lathering her hair. I finger comb it through the long strands, over and over. I move slowly, sensing the relaxation taking control of her body.
Jordan’s head falls back, shoulders dip. Body like clay in my hands.
Before rinsing, I massage her scalp, allowing my fingers to dig into her roots. I repeat the process with her conditioner, slowing it down as I watch her relax.
“Do you think Coach is going to pull me from the second line after tonight?” she asks as I rinse her hair.
“No.” I stifle a laugh and the urge to call her out. That’s a stupid question. “It was one game, and—”
“I played horribly, Jaxon, and everyone knows it,” she deadpans, turning over a shoulder to look at me.
“You didn’t, but even if you did, we all have bad games.”
I finish washing her hair, taking her loofah and adding body wash. Gently, I move it over her arms and torso. Suds coat her silky smooth skin.
“It wasn’t just tonight. I’ve sucked all season.”
“Blue, that’s not true.” She loses a sad huff, leaning back into me. Her forehead comes to the front of my shoulder. This can’t be solely about sixty-minutes of hockey. “Did something else happen today?”
I catch her reflection through the faucet. Tight, reserved. Jordan is falling within herself. Solidifying the wall I’ve worked at tearing down.
Her eyes go glassy. Tears welling in her eyes.
“It’s okay to cry,” I reassure her. “You don’t need to hide from me, but if you want to hide, take me with you.
Anywhere you go, even if it’s inside yourself, take me with you.
” It’s a plea. Desperate to pull her out of herself.
Show her that this authentic version of her is beautiful, worthy, and wanted.
“I was heading home after Pilates,” she starts, telling me about what happened prior to our game. Overhearing her teammates talking about her. Xanie showing up. “It was naive to think they were my friends.”
“Xanie is,” I butt in. “She’s your best friend, you know that.”
“I do.”
I wash her legs, what I can reach of them. Afterward, we sit there in the water. Jordan plays with my hand, tracing it and running a finger over my calluses. And because I can’t keep my hands off her and obsessed with her hair, I play with the ends floating on the surface.
I wait for her to speak. Opening the space for her to tear down the wall brick by brick, and let me in. Words work with other people, but with Jordan it’s quietness and being present.
“I’ve never been good at making friends. I’ve either tried too hard, coming off as too much, or not hard enough, and am seen as distant or cold. People pretended to like me, for the sake of my siblings or because they had to. But I knew they didn’t like me.
“Friends”—with how she says the word, I know she’s being facetious—“trickled out of my life once I became inconvenient or eventually did something wrong. They’d look at me, wishing I were someone else.
” I hate how she says the word, as if there is something wrong with her.
“Most of the time without a word. I’d stop being invited to things, new group messages were created, I’d see on social media them hanging out without me, or overhear them talking about me behind my back.
I’d rather be ghosted by a date than a friend. ” Her laugh is humorless.
“In high school, especially after Katie passed, I got my hopes up trying to make friends. It was exhausting trying to be someone I wasn’t, trying to impress people who didn’t want me for me. It hardened a part of me. The ice princess they think I am? Being cold and closed off? That’s who I am.”
Jordan looks up at me. “But I don’t want to be her anymore. I don’t want to be cold anymore, Jaxon.”
She isn’t cold, not to me. She’s everything warm and good in this world.
“You don’t have to be.” I tuck a wet strand of her behind her ear. Hug her tighter to me.
“Apparently I don’t know how. Today. My ex.”
“You aren’t that way with me.” At least I’ve never felt that way about her.
“You asked for me to take you with me, even if it’s within myself, but Jaxon, that’s impossible because you take me out of myself.”
How is she real? How did I get lucky to see and know this version of her?
Everything Jordan just said is how I feel about her.
“Being with you is like stepping into the sun after years in the dark.” Her kiss is soft. “I’m sorry I told you to go earlier. It was the opposite of what I wanted.”
I place another kiss on her hair. “I wasn’t going to go anywhere. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than with you.”
A comfortable silence falls between us, and for once I enjoy it. I enjoy sitting here and just being in the mundane with Jordan.
Jordan shivers, and I take that as our cue to get out of the bath. I pull two towels out from under the sink, drying her off and wrapping her in one before tying one around my waist.
Arms looped around her shoulders, I press a kiss to the top of her head. She moves to face me, hands gripping my bicep.
I hold her chin, gaze fixated on mine. Something she said earlier has been sitting between my ears. “I’ve never looked at you and wished you were someone else.”