Chapter 63 Jordan
jordan
Go on with my game day routine?! Fuck. That. Kennedy’s got to be fucking kidding me, telling me not to come and look for her. I don’t care if she fell in a goddamn volcano—I’m jumping in after her.
I pace around the apartment, eerily reminded of when I was pacing outside her hotel door before our first date. That same panic flutters in my gut, but this time it’s accompanied by pure dread. Where the fuck could she be? Is Angelica going to hurt her?
“FUCK!” I pound my fist against the kitchen counter.
Stay calm, Jordan. I call the one person who always helps me in these types of situations, as I nearly wear a hole in this floor walking back and forth. Who cares…I’ll replace it. I can replace floors, windows, phones, and cars. A sharp pain nearly sends me to my knees—what I can’t replace is her.
“Jordan? What’s up, bud? You never call me before a game; it’s bad luck.”
“Dad. Fuck my routine. It’s an emergency. I don’t care if I never touch the Cup outside of a museum in Toronto. It’s…it’s Kennedy.”
“What? What about her? What’s going on, son?”
“Angelica,” I say, nearly vomiting from speaking her name. “She has Kennedy. She’s asking for ten million in the next hour or…or…fuck, I don’t even know what she’s going to do, but it doesn’t sound good.”
“Angelica?! What?! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I didn’t…” My voice cracks. “I didn’t know, Dad. I don’t know what’s happening, but I can’t lose her. I can’t. I’m afraid that even when I find her…You know she’s crazy. I don’t know what she’ll do.”
“It’s okay, JJ. Calm down. Have you called Ray yet?”
“Can you call him? I’m going to see if I can find any signs here of what happened.
I left to go to morning skate, and as soon as I got back, I got a call from fucking Cruella demanding money,” I mutter, making my way around the house, back to the bedroom where we woke up and enjoyed each other only a couple hours ago.
“Does anything look off?” he calmly asks. God bless him, he’s trying to keep me calm. I’m not sure it’s helping.
I scan the room, letting my dad know what I see.
“The bed’s made, which she usually does.
Her sneakers are gone, so she must have gotten dressed to go somewhere.
Let me check the bathroom. Maybe she didn’t get…
” I freeze. Paralyzed, I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes catch on something on the counter.
Something very out of place. My heart pounds, a spark of fear and excitement coursing through me.
“…dan? Jordan…are you still there?”
“Yeah…yeah, I-I’m here. Hey Dad? I’ll call you back. I’m, um…I’m gonna see if I can ping her phone to see if it’s here. You’ll call Ray?”
“Will do. Jordan? Don’t do anything to put yourself in danger.”
“Thanks, Dad. Love you.”
“Love you too, bud. Be careful.”
I throw my phone toward the bed and practically sprint to the bathroom counter to pick up the smooth piece of plastic.
I’ve never held one of these in my hands before.
This little device, one I’ve seen on commercials since I was a kid, changes everything simply by the placement of a line.
Two lines, actually. Two lines forming a symbol glaring back at me.
My eyes go wide as if I’m in a staring contest. I don’t think I could blink right now if I tried.
My heart beats in a way that melts every part of me.
Nothing else matters now. Not hockey. Not money.
Not anything I’ve worked to achieve in my life.
This? This is all that matters now.
I’m even more determined to do anything to find her.
I will scour every inch of this town, this earth.
Even though this started as fake dating, it was never fake.
Not for me. Not for one minute. She’s always been my real-as-fuck girlfriend.
The one person I somehow always knew I could trust. The one person who has seen the real me and accepted me regardless.
The one who completes me. The love of my life.
And the woman carrying my child.