Chapter 9
JORDAN
Through the glass walls of my new office, I spot Georgia striding down the hall at her usual fast pace, heels clicking on the hardwood.
On the other side of the hall, Tate’s in his office, on the phone.
I’m supposed to be reading the financial report but am watching last night’s hockey highlights on my new laptop.
Georgia glances at me, keeps walking, and freezes. Turns slowly with a puzzled frown and steps into the doorway.
“Hi?” she says with an odd smile.
I clear my throat. “Hi.”
She gestures at me in this huge office, stunned. “Explain, please.”
“I meant to tell you about this sooner. Everything happened really fast.”
The truth is, I’ve been debating how much to tell her. She’d be uncomfortable keeping the secret from Alexei.
She takes a seat in one of the chairs across from my desk. “Everything…?”
“I made a deal with Ross.”
Her eyebrows go up. I’m not good at the whole emotional sharing thing, but from a decade of living together, she’s pieced my father’s and my history together.
“If I work for the team until the end of the season, he’ll leave me alone forever,” I lie, glancing down at my hands. When I look up, she’s giving me a funny look. “What?”
“Nothing.” A smile spreads over her face. “I’m just surprised. After your master’s, it seemed like you had no interest in sports. I basically handed you a job at the hospital, but you wouldn’t even come in to interview.”
Georgia wanted me to come work for her hospital’s athlete recovery program. Her work is fascinating, and I would have loved it, but of course they’d find out that I didn’t actually have my master’s and the whole thing would fall through.
I’m a bad friend for not telling her. I know that. What happened was humiliating, though, and I don’t want to relive it.
“Rory told me the news.” Hazel appears in the door with a low whistle. “Look at you, hotshot.”
“I only got this office because of my dad,” I tell her, discomfort knotting in my stomach. “I’m a nepo baby.”
“Who cares?” She drops down into the seat beside Georgia. “What’s the saying? Someone offers you a seat on the rocket ship, you don’t ask what seat. You just get on.”
The elevator opens and Darcy gets off, hurrying to my office with a big smile. “Holy smokes. Is this the old GM’s office?”
“I know. She got the good one.” Georgia narrows her eyes at me but she’s smiling. “But it sure is nice to see a woman in here.”
“I’m not the GM.” My face is going red. “I’m shadowing Ward.”
Hazel shrugs. “Still, having a woman in management sends a message to the organization.”
Darcy nods. “And to people outside the organization who might want to work in sports.”
“This kind of thing matters, you know?” Georgia adds. “Having a bunch of white guys in the front office is the way of the past.”
I don’t know what to say. “I’m not a role model.”
I’m just a bartender living in a crappy apartment, trying to figure my life out.
“You are, whether you want to be or not.” Hazel gives me a lopsided smile. “Jordan, you can do so much in this role. You have the owner’s ear, and you’re about to have a spotlight on you. The news has already broken on ESPN that Ross Sheridan’s daughter is getting involved with the Storm.”
Memories of what the players at UBC said ring in my head. “What’s the comment section like?”
Why is she even here? one player asked when they didn’t realize I could hear. Probably because of her dad.
The three women start shaking their heads.
“Never read the comment section,” Hazel says.
“Never.” Darcy blinks. “Never ever.”
“I don’t know.” Georgia’s eyes glitter and she gives us a cat-like smile. “If you fire up the comment section, I think you’re doing something right.”
“That’s because you’re a pot-stirrer,” I add. Georgia gets a sick satisfaction from arguing with people. It’s like foreplay for her.
She does a dramatic hair-flip and the others laugh. “And proud of it.” Her smile softens. “And proud of you. I know taking this role wasn’t an easy decision. It’s a lot of attention.”
Darcy nods with an understanding hum, and there’s a clench of something in my chest. Being seen and understood, maybe.
“Seeing you in this position is going to mean something to a lot of people.”
“You’re brave,” Hazel says. “And you can do a lot of good in this role.”
“We’re rooting for you,” Georgia adds with a sincerity in her amber eyes that makes my heart flip.
It’s moments like these that I want to be closer with all of them, and despite my inner voice chanting this is temporary and don’t get attached, I want to live up to their expectations. I want to make them proud and be this role model they think I am.
“What do you need from us?” Darcy asks.
That old independent instinct rises, honed sharp and strong from years of being on my own. “Nothing. I don’t need anything from you.” I straighten my spine. “Thank you, though.”
Georgia watches me, and I shift with discomfort. I’ve always gotten the sense she could see right through me. “If you change your mind, we’ll be here.”