Chapter 57
TATE
“We should invite Jordan,” Bea says as I’m pulling plates down for dinner the next weekend. “She likes pizza.”
I glance through the kitchen window to the guesthouse. It’s raining hard, but I can see the lights are on. She’s at the counter in her own kitchen, on her laptop. Is she working?
In an instant, the house goes dark and quiet. A few moments later, the backup power comes on, dim lights in the kitchen and living room like I programmed.
“Ooooh.” Bea grins. “Power outage.”
I chuckle. “Your favorite.”
“Now, you have to get Jordan.”
“Do I.” I lift my eyebrows at her, but I’m smiling, too.
“You have to make sure she’s okay. She’s in the dark.” Her expression softens and I get that twisting, affectionate feeling in my chest. “What if she’s lonely?”
I’m filled with equal parts excitement and dread. Jordan, who I kissed. Jordan, who I can’t stop thinking about.
Jordan, who’s been avoiding me for a week. She attends the meetings, she’s there at practice, and during games, she’s behind the scenes, watching and strategizing, but we don’t joke. We don’t tease. She doesn’t give me that small, guarded smile.
I miss her. She’s right in front of me and I miss her.
I should have kept those pink lacy panties. Every night, late in my bed, I think about them. I jerk off to the image of her wearing them, of me sliding them off her. I shouldn’t.
I shouldn’t be doing any of this—challenging her to cuddle with me, taking her for dinner, just the two of us. Kissing her. Thinking about her.
Looking up at the stars at night, thinking about what constellation she’d be.
She’s alone in the dark, though, and probably cold. That’s not okay.
“Okay. I’ll go get her.”
I grab my raincoat and a big umbrella at the back door before heading to the guesthouse. A light moves around inside. Her phone flashlight, probably.
I knock on the front door and hear a yelp and a crash inside.
“Jordan?” I call.
“One second.” A moment later, the door opens.
She looks lovely, as always, with her bangs slightly in her eyes and her hair down around her shoulders.
She’s wearing black leggings that fit much more snugly than any of the work trousers or jeans I’ve seen her in.
Her thin, off-the-shoulder t-shirt has a vintage, sketchbook-style image of a fox on it.
“What?” she asks with a strange look, and I realize I’m smiling at her t-shirt.
“Nothing.” I shake myself. How do I tell the woman I’m not supposed to be messing around with that when I look up at the night sky, I think about her?
She’s about to say something but her eyes catch on my house behind me. “Why do you have power and I don’t? Do you have a generator?”
“My house is on a smart grid. We’re pulling power from the electric vehicle in the garage. Once the power comes back on, the car will start charging again.”
“Oh. Cool.” She looks impressed, and I’m pathetic for the spike of pride I feel.
“Bea insisted I come get you. We don’t know when the power will come back on.” Our area has a lot of big, old trees that fall on power lines during storms. Sometimes the power comes back on quickly, sometimes it takes overnight. “We have pizza.”
I don’t mention the lonely part. I don’t want to see her flounder for an answer. That would break my fucking heart. That would ruin any control I have left.
The corner of her mouth curls up. “Pizza, huh.”
“Pineapple jalapeno. I could probably be convinced to share, if you ask nicely.”
She snorts, but to my relief, she shoves her feet in her shoes beside the door.
Something behind her catches my eye—a drawing tacked up on the fridge. Two figures, one big and one small. The bigger one has dark hair and bangs. What looks like a record player is between them and music notes fill the air.
“Did Bea draw that?”
She glances at it. “Oh. Yeah.”
And she gave it to Jordan. That warm, pulsing sensation beats through me, the one I’ve been trying to ignore.
She glances over her shoulder, behind her. “Are you coming or staying?” she calls into the guesthouse.
A black ball of fur appears a moment later at my feet and I scoop her up. “I wondered where she got to.” She’s normally glued to Bea’s side when she’s home.
Phoebe pushes her head into my touch and Jordan rolls her eyes.
“She’s only in here because she’s too afraid to go out in the rain. The second the storm started, she hid under the bed. Not that I care.” She narrows her eyes at the cat, who I’ve tucked into my jacket so she doesn’t get wet.
“No, you’re right. You definitely sound like you don’t care.”
She takes the umbrella I brought and follows me to the house. At the door, the cat leaps to the ground and gives me an expectant look as I shake the rain off my coat.
“Such attitude,” Jordan mutters.
“Remind you of anyone?”
She levels me with a look. “No.”
“Yeah.” I fight a smile. “Me neither.”
This is the teasing that I missed, that I absolutely should not be partaking in.
Again, I think about the sweet noises she made as I coaxed myself between her lips.
Would she sound like that in bed? Her eyes were glazed and heavy-lidded, her face flushed, would she look like that after an orgasm?
The way she bent for me, melted under my touch, let me kiss her thoroughly and take what I wanted. It’s been on my mind constantly.
I open the door and Bea nearly knocks Jordan over.
“You’re here,” she shouts, wrapping her arms around Jordan.
Jordan blinks, arms at her sides as Bea squeezes her, giving me a bemused look. I smile and hang up my parka, dripping wet all over the mat.
“Hi, kitty.” Bea scoops Phoebe up and gives her a kiss on the head.
“Do you want some pizza?” she asks Jordan as we lead her into the house.
“We got the pineapple jalapeno one you like. Also, your record player is still here. I was thinking we could listen to music? My dad said I shouldn’t play with it while you weren’t here because it could break, so I didn’t touch it even though I really wanted to.
And maybe I could play my guitar for you.
I’m not very good and I’m just learning, though. ”
Jordan smiles, small and pleased. “I’d love to see what you can play, and I can show you how to use the record player so you can listen to music when I’m not here.”
Bea lights up. “Really? You trust me with it?”
Jordan nods. “I trust you with it.”
Bea and Jordan flip through the records while I make Jordan a plate.
Bea picks an album, Jordan shows her how to set it on the turntable, and a moment later, music fills the living room.
I take a seat on the sofa and tuck my hands behind my head, smiling at the scene before me.
Dim lights, rain on the roof, a fire crackling in the fireplace.
Bea petting the cat and talking Jordan’s ear off, and Jordan listening with a little smile on her pretty face, sitting on the floor and looking more comfortable than I’ve ever seen her.
“I told her about Fleetwood Mac when I went to her house last night,” Bea’s saying.
“Is she a new friend?”
Bea doesn’t have a lot of friends, I admitted once to Jordan. I worry about her.
“Yup.” Bea nods. “She takes guitar lessons, too. I did the thing you told me. We’re trying to play songs together at lunch. We’re not very good.” She gives Jordan a shy smile. “But it’s fun.”
Jordan makes a high, funny noise in her throat, like she’s so happy she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Her eyes cut to mine, bright and stunned. “Love that for you, Bee.”
My heart gives a sharp, sudden squeeze. Jordan called my daughter Bee. I love that. I love that way, way too much.
“I’m proud of you,” Jordan adds, and I’m finished, a pressure building behind my ribcage as I glance between them, Bea beaming and Jordan giving her a small, hesitant smile.
“What were you doing tonight before the power went out?” Bea asks.
“Just a bit of work.”
“Is that why you stayed over the other night?” Bea asks, and Jordan and I freeze. “To work?”
When we fell asleep together watching TV.
“How did you find out about that, Bea?” I ask, keeping my voice casual, while Jordan looks like she wants to disappear through the floor.
“I saw it on the Ring app.”
Right. I forgot. “I put a motion-activated camera in the back because Bea likes to keep track of the wildlife on our property,” I tell Jordan.
“That’s how I know about the cougars,” Bea adds. She looks between us and frowns at me. “We aren’t allowed to have secrets.”
I nod. “Yes. That’s the rule. No secrets.”
“We were hanging out and I fell asleep,” Jordan says quickly.
Holly is going to love this. She’s going to be over the moon. I’m already dreading that conversation.
Bea nods like that makes sense. “Did you cuddle?”
Jordan makes a strangled noise. “What?”
“My mom and Jeff cuddle on the couch and my mom falls asleep on him. And sometimes my dad cuddles me before bed, and he smells nice.”
“Yes, Bea.” I don’t look at Jordan because if I do, I’ll start laughing. “We cuddled.”
“Don’t you think he smells good?” Bea asks Jordan, and my face hurts from smiling.
“Uh.” Jordan looks at me. Her face is going red. I love it. “Yes. He smells good.”
Bea nods, satisfied, and hops up. “I’m going to get my guitar.”
“I hate you,” Jordan murmurs the second she’s out of earshot, while I grin like a fool.