Chapter 51 Jordan
JORDAN
Somewhere in the second period, I start to yawn.
“Tired?” he asks.
“Just bored. Weak offense on both sides and good goaltending.” It makes for a slow game without a lot of points or exciting moments.
He makes a noise of agreement. Our eyes meet. This is where I should head back to the guesthouse.
“Your family is in Ontario?” I ask instead.
I’m stalling, shamelessly.
He nods. “My mom and Noah.”
A pause lingers between us. “Where’s your dad?”
His eyes are steady on me. “I don’t know,” he says simply.
“Does Bea know him?”
“Nope.” I can’t read his expression, it’s so tightly controlled and neutral. One of my old tricks. “But I’m okay with that.”
“And you say I have daddy issues.”
That earns me a small, humorless smile. “I never said that.”
“You’re thinking it.”
He keeps his eyes on the game, but I get the sense he isn’t really seeing it.
“My father is the kind of guy who isn’t interested in getting attached to anyone.
My entire childhood, he was in and out of our lives.
He’d show up for a few days and everything would be incredible, he’d be spinning my mom around the living room and making us laugh and taking us out for dinner and playing with my brother’s army men out in the yard.
” He swallows. “And then he’d have a friend in Saskatchewan who was going to get him work or there was a job in Alberta or he’d have to go take care of something somewhere and then he’d be gone.
And he wouldn’t call like he said he would, and he wouldn’t come back in a few days or weeks like he promised on the note he left, and my mom would be devastated all over again.
My aunt ran into him out in Montréal once.
He was out for dinner with another woman. ”
There’s a weird pull in my stomach. Nausea-inducing.
“He broke my mom’s heart so many times. Broke my brother’s heart. I would never subject Bea to that.”
“And what about you?” Did he break your heart?
His eyes come to mine. “I knew better.”
A sharp sadness aches through my chest. No kid should have to “know better” for something like this.
“It’s okay, Jordan.” His mouth tilts into a sad smile. “He was a blueprint for the kind of man I don’t want to be.”
“You’re the most reliable person I’ve ever met,” I admit.
“I appreciate that. I try.”
“When was the last time you heard from him?”
“Back when I was in the minors. I answered the phone at my mom’s house.
” He laughs, short and dry. “I thought maybe he’d reach out when I signed my NHL contract.
But no.” His mouth presses into a firm line.
“He didn’t reach out. That’s the thing about him, though, he never needed anyone or anything. ”
My stomach flips over in the worst way. That’s how I feel, but I’d never want to hurt someone the way Tate’s dad has obviously hurt him.
Tate reaches for the remote and tosses it to me. “You can change it.”
Okay, so we’re done with that conversation. I’m both relieved and not ready to move on. “Are you sure?”
He nods. “This game isn’t going anywhere interesting. I’ve seen all I want.”
“Same.” I hesitate before I pick up the remote and open the Netflix app on his TV, selecting a new horror movie I didn’t get to see in the theater.
Tate tenses. “This is what you want to watch?” He gives me an uneasy look.
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
He hesitates. “Yep.”
Weird. Okay. I hit Play and settle against the pillows.
A few minutes later, I look over. His eyes are closed, but his jaw is tense. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Your eyes are closed.”
“I’m tired.”
That’s not it. “Oh my god. Tate. Are you scared?”
“No.” The corner of his mouth twitches. His eyes are still closed, though.
I’m really laughing now. “You’re afraid. You’re a little scaredy baby.”
His eyes open and he sees the girl on screen, crawling down the stairs, and it’s like his whole body shudders. “I’m the normal one here. Look at this. It’s not normal to like being scared, Jordan.”
Oh my god. Is it possible that this forty-year-old, two-hundred-pound ex-hockey player who can bench, like, three times my weight, is fucking adorable?
It is, and he is. He’s utterly adorable.
“Can we change it?”
I grin. “No.”
There’s a jump scare on screen and he jolts beside me while I dissolve into laughter.
“Stop laughing at me,” he groans into the duvet.
“I can’t help it.” He’s about a foot closer to me after that one. “Someone needs to laugh at you, Tate. It’s good for you. And this is so cute.”
“It’s not cute,” he says, face-down.
“Do you need me to hold your hand?”
“No. Maybe.”
“Are you going to have nightmares?”
“You’re having way too much fun with this.”
“You know what we should do?” I can’t hide the amusement in my voice. “We should find the Cursed video and watch it.”
A pillow hits me in the face and I burst out laughing.
“What if I cuddled you?” I ask through laughter. “Would that make it better? I’ll even touch your hair.”
Tate’s eyebrow goes up, focus and interest in his eyes, and I stop laughing. Tension snaps in the air, crackling like water drops in hot oil.
“Sure,” he says.
I swallow. “What?”
His eyes challenge me, sparking and playful. “You want to watch this fucked-up movie in my bed, Jordan? You have to cuddle me.”
My stomach dips. Something tingles through me. What game are we playing here? Do I like it?
I like it. I’m nervous and I don’t know what to do, but I like it. I like the thrill. I’ve never felt like this before with a guy. A man. Tate’s not a guy. He’s a man. He’s older, and hotter than anyone I’ve ever met, and I can’t look away from his eyes.
I get the sense he knows exactly what he’s doing right now, and fuck, that is hot.
“Unless you don’t want to, of course.” Challenge sparks in his eyes, and that stubborn part of myself rises to meet it. “I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You don’t. Ever.”
Something settles in his gaze. “Good.”
The moment stretches. So? his eyes say.
“Fine.” I flop down on the bed, looking at the TV. “Come here, then, scaredy-cat.”
He lets out a low laugh. “No. Not like that. Like this.” He lies back and gestures to his side. He wants me to lie against him? Oh god. My heart is beating up into my throat.
This seems risky. It seems like something I’m going to like too much.
“What’s the matter?” he asks, mouth twisting into a wry smile. Voice soft. “Haven’t you ever cuddled someone before, Jordan?”
Our eyes meet and he sees the truth—no. No, I haven’t. Not like this. Not with someone I have a crush on. Not with someone I actually like.
“Oh.”
My face goes hot and I look away. There they are, my insides, out on display for him to inspect and step on.
“Is it fucked-up that I like being the first?” he asks, running a hand through his hair, laughing a little.
“Probably.” I’m still blushing.
“Yeah. Probably.” He studies me for a moment. “Come here, Jordan.”
I go to him, and it’s so easy, sinking into the bed beside him. My head on his hard chest. So comfortable and delicious.
What are we doing? I don’t care.
“Like this?” I whisper, and his hand settles on my back, brushing up and down in slow, calming motions that turn my brain to slush.
“Exactly like this.” I feel his voice through his chest.
“What do I do with my hand?” I whisper, and his chest shakes a little. I like making him laugh, and his other hand comes to my wrist, lifting it and softly setting it on his flat stomach. Through his soft t-shirt, I can feel the ridges of his abs.
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with his scent, every anxiety and insecurity in my mind fading out like a dying star.
“How’s your first time so far?” he asks, and I bite my lip.
Tate Ward is fucking cheeky.
“Not so bad.”
He makes a low, pleased noise, so relaxed. Like he’s enjoying himself. Like he’s savoring this. He’s quiet for a moment. “Bea’s taking guitar lessons.”
My head lifts and I meet his eyes with a smile. “She is?”
“Yep.” He smiles, too. “And she’s made a few friends.”
My heart floats up into the sky. “She has? That’s great.”
“Yeah. It is.” The strong line of his throat moves as he swallows, watching me with that warm look. “It’s really great.”
There’s that feeling again, the one that keeps happening when we lock eyes for more than a second. The slow, delicious roll forward inside me, like I’m drawn to him. Like I want more.
I put my head back down on his chest. We should stop cuddling. I should go back to my guesthouse and watch the movie on my own laptop.
But when I glance up at him, his eyes are closed, and he looks so relaxed that I don’t want to disturb him, so I turn back to watch the movie.