Chapter 41 – Jordan
FORTY-ONE
JORDAN
A Saturday with my mom was exactly what I needed after last week. Window shopping for me, antique and vintage shopping for Mom. It’s Fall Weekend and Coach gave us the long weekend off.
I thought that’s why Mom came into town. Cooper must’ve told her and she made the four-hour drive in from Minnesota. But, no. Leave it to her to find a way to volunteer with the planning of Bensen’s Fall Carnival. The final committee meeting was yesterday.
“Everything in here was wonderful.” Mom beams, somehow waving goodbye to the cashier and owner of the new vintage clothing store that opened a month ago. Her arms are weighed down by the entire store. “I will certainly be back.”
“Need help with those?”
“Yes.” She sighs, offloading three large rectangular recyclable bags.
Mom is the type of person who starts Christmas shopping in January, then forgets what she bought and where she stored it.
Levi’s from the nineties for Cooper, two pairs of corduroy overalls for Sutton.
Some walnut brown leather boots that Mom swears Mrs. Davis had in college.
Jewelry for Meave and Molly. I won’t complain about the classic Nike windbreakers and track suits she found in my size.
Too bad, I’ll have to pretend I know nothing about them in two months.
“Are you hungry or want coffee?” We’re standing out front of The Mean Bean. I give her a loving side-eye, and she smiles brightly at me. “You never know. I don’t see or hear from my daughter for two weeks in the spring and her hair is blue.”
“Touché.”
I open the sunflower yellow door for her. We walk under the hand-painted sign, chipped and loved—like the tables and chairs inside—the same one from when they opened in 2000.
Immediately, Mom audibly inhales and says, “I love this place. I love this downtown. Maybe your dad and I should move here.”
Roasted beans, my now third-favorite smell in the world, and fresh pastries. Customers talking over the records playing softly in the background. I love this place too—and not just because I work here or they don’t judge my obscene caffeine intake.
There’s something about it that’s homey. Safe and warm.
I get the same feelings when I’m wrapped in Jaxon’s arms or find him staring—he calls it admiring—at me from across the room, or how he finds every opportunity to brush pinkies or play with the ends of my braids.
After we order, much to Mom’s amusement, the barista having my order inputted by the time we reach the counter, we are lucky to snag the prized bay window booth.
The mid-day sun stretches across my back, and I shrug out of my sweatshirt. Midwest weather is comical. Honestly has more of a mind of its own and is more unpredictable than Jaxon. Yesterday felt like winter, but today there is rolling blue sky and a high of sixty-five.
“How is your ASL class going?”
I take a sip of my iced sweater weather latte as I chew over my answer. I’m not the worst in the class, but I’m not the best. “Okay, I guess.” I set the funky glass down.
“You do remember I know sign language.”
How could I have forgotten?
Mom is fluent in ASL. During an event planning class in college, she was assigned to plan a gala for a Deaf and hard-of-hearing organization. The following semester, she enrolled in classes and continued in graduate school.
Her and Mrs. Davis’s business—a flower shop and event planning—is widely recognized for their work in the Minneapolis Deaf community. They’ve been invited to work on events in Chicago and New York City.
“Apparently not.” I give a tight, barely there, apologetic smile. “And I wouldn’t be opposed to helping if asked.”
This is where Dad and Mom are different. He’s bold and blunt, says it as it is, but Mom is humorous. Sprinkles in teases and uses her soft facial features to get you to ask or do something she wants.
“Would give me an excuse to see and talk to my youngest more,” she adds, picking up her mug of tea. Deep brown eyes, irises rimmed in a soft gray like mine, shimmer over the rim.
“Fine, okay, Mom,” I resign, sort of. “Would you help me practice?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” She pretends to be surprised. “Yes.”
“And you wonder how Molly became interested in drama.”
“Thank you for the compliment.” She extends her mug, tapping it against my glass.
We spend the next hour practicing. She’s patient as I get tripped up over forming sentences, but slowly, I’m gleaning confidence and progressing.
From my peripherals, I catch a cropped shirt and cargo pants. Light brown, almost blond hair curling at the ends, sticking out from under his backward hat. When the bells above the door chime, I jam my hands under my thighs.
Why? I don’t know.
Because we are like magnets for each other,
“Jaxon, sweetie,” Mom calls to my…to my…to my—to your what? Was I about to call him my boyfriend? Do I want him to be my boyfriend?
“Mrs. C!”
“Oh, stop. I’ve told you not to call me that. Too closely related to Mrs. Claus.” Mom smirks. “But it does remind me of this one time you dressed up as Santa for the kids. I made sure to extend the rental for—”
“Mom,” I groan.
Jaxon offers my mom a high five, which she gladly accepts. “Anyways, I’m so happy to see you.”
“I’m always happy to see hot mama Carmichael.”
Mom fucking blushes. Even she isn’t immune to a Jaxon Greene smile. She excuses herself to grab him a drink, more hot water for her tea, and a sweet treat. Not before inviting Jaxon to join us.
He slides into the seat across from me, smiles as he taps the tip of his sneaker to mine. I don’t give him a reaction, my face neutral.
“I was looking for you.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to see you.”
“Well…you’ve seen me. Now you can go.”
His pout resembles that of a sad puppy. “Come on, Little Carmichael. I know you wanted to see me too.”
“Saw enough of you last night.”
His brows wiggle. “And this morning.”
Our no sleepover rule has been thrown out the window, and I can’t deny I’m thrilled about it. Waking up in his arms, nose nuzzled into the crook of my neck, and body pressed firmly up against mine. His hair tussled how I imagine it would be after sex and eyes heavy from sleep.
He sneaks out early to get home before his roommates get suspicious, but it doesn’t matter.
Jaxon never leaves without bringing me a coffee in bed, doing Wordle with me—unfortunately, he’s getting exceptionally good at it—and kissing me till I’m the one begging for a few more minutes under the covers.
“Might be the last time.”
“We both know it’s not.”
I look away from him. It’s getting hard to conceal my feelings for him. If he’d look into my eyes right now, he’d see how full of shit I am. That it won’t be the last time…hopefully ever.
He reaches out, two fingers hooking under my chin and drawing my gaze back to his.
“Tell me it’s not.”
“Don’t call my mom hot.”
Am I fazed he called my mom hot? No, it’s Jaxon. But I also know all of Cooper’s roommates added her to their hall pass. It’s common knowledge that Mom is hot, and for the record, she is. Late forties and she’s still got it. My own roommate is a traitor, hitting me with hot dad jokes.
“You’re jealous,” he sing-songs. “I love it when you are.”
“Am not.”
“Admit it. You are.” His smolder takes up more residence on his cheeks. The heat in mine does the same. “You’re blushing, Blue.”
“Because it’s hot in here. The sun is beating through these windows.”
“That’s a terrible excuse.” He urges me closer. “There’s nothing to be jealous about because there’s only one Carmichael I want. Only one Carmichael I like hearing scream my name. Only one Carmichael I like worshiping on my knees.”
“Who?”
“You. I only want you, Jordan.” He checks over his shoulder for where my mom is before pressing his lips to mine. It’s too easy to sink into his embrace and display of—we’re in public.
I pull away, whispering, “Not here. I don’t want—”
“I get it.” Disappointment puppeteers his features.
Mom is one thing. A student is another. Lakeland might be a mid-size school, enough students that you don’t know everyone, but gossip travels fast, and I’m not ready for this to be public knowledge. For Cooper to find out.
Not till we play Wisconsin. Not till we beat Luka. That’s the arbitrary deadline I’ve convinced myself of. After that things with Jaxon can fizzle out or combust when I admit to my brother I’m with his best friend.
“I’m sorry,” I say, still hushed.
“It’s fine.” Jaxon blows out a strained exhale. A mixture of hurt and, I think, confusion clothes him.
“Are you sure?”
“It’s fine, Jordan.” I’m not sure it is.
“One—” Mom stares at the glass, puzzled.
“I don’t know, but I hope it’s right.” She passes Jaxon the glass, but I can tell from the set of her shoulders and lift to the corner of her brow she’s suspicious.
Maybe she saw him kiss me. Maybe she’s supermom and can read my mind.
Either way, she doesn’t mention the tension pulsing around the booth.
She sits and jumps right back into conversation.
“Jaxon, how are classes going? Cooper mentioned you are student teaching at the elementary school, and something about a hockey camp?”
Bensen, and there’s no better way to categorize it, is a college town but moonlights as a small town. Instead of a gazebo in the center of town, everything revolves around Lake Bensen.
Fireworks are set off from the center of the lake for the Fourth of July. Near the marina, a portion of the lake, when frozen, is sectioned off for ice-skating while winter markets decorate the streets nearby.
The Fall Carnival is probably the biggest event Bensen puts on. Basically, a county fair without the overwhelming stench of animals. It starts downtown and stretches to campus and the lake.
Sutton’s already indulged in every pumpkin or caramel-flavored treat she can get her hands on, and we’ve only been here for an hour.
Cooper’s balancing, more like juggling, while he sneaks in a few bites, a half-eaten bag of caramel popcorn, a pumpkin butter milkshake, half-a-dozen pumpkin donuts, a bucket of fries, and a corn dog sticking out the top.
Hazel eyes go wide and twinkle as someone passes by us with what I can only assume is deep-fried pizza based on the triangular shape. “Did you see that, superstar?”
“Fuck, yeah. Let’s go.” He dumps their other food into Dawson’s and his boyfriend, Jake’s, arms. “Race to see who can find it first?”
“Winner gets to pick the loser’s slice?”
Before my brother can agree, Sutton’s already taken off. “I swear, that denim-loving woman.” He shakes his head, chasing after the mess of auburn curls and overalls weaving through the crowd.
“Not bad.” I slide my attention to Dawson, who’s inspecting the corn dog.
“You’ve never had a corn dog before?” He shakes his head, taking another bite. “Even I’ll risk the stomachache for one.”
Dawson offers Jake a bite. “The ones in Korea are better. I’ll tell Mom we need to go to Gwangjang Market over break.”
While they’re distracted, I sneak away. Walk up and down the local craft market, then to the alley designated for Lakeland student organizations, and debate getting in line for ride tickets.
I can’t remember the last time I went on a carnival ride. Hell, even a rollercoaster. Katie loved them. She’d always have her hands in the air, demanding the same from me, and screaming till she was in a fit of laughter—hair in her face and tears in her eyes.
A rush of kids joins the line. Two girls holding hands catch my attention, one dragging the other and babbling about which ride they’ll go on when. For a second, it hurts to breathe. My lungs contract with memories of us and thinking about how much Katie would love this.
An arm snakes across my shoulder, and a hasty kiss drops to the top of my head. It’s not his fault, and he doesn’t realize it, but the unshed tears I tried to dissipate trickles down my cheek.
Somehow, he manages to see it, thumbing it away. The same dexterity he uses on the ice, he uses on me now, curling me into his chest. My cheek sinks into him as I inhale, his stupid fruity scent as if he’s a walking bowl of cereal, instantly calming.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he apologizes with sincerity. “I know I’m—we’re not—”
“It’s not you.” The words are muffled by his shirt.
“Famous last words.”
I collect myself and cautiously point out the girls to Jaxon. As I finish telling him about Katie’s love for amusement rides, I pull away enough that I can glance up at him. Jaxon’s wearing a sheepish smirk. “What?”
He takes my hand, the other holding a deep-fried pizza slice in it, stepping us into line. “Unlimited passes it is then.”
“But you—”
“Are scared of heights? Weirded out about the fact that carnival rides are built to be taken down, driven to a new city, and rebuilt?”
“We don’t—”
“We do. You might just need to hold my hand.”
I roll my eyes, feeling lighter. Better. “I think I could manage that.”
He tries to lean in for a kiss, and as much as I want to, I know we shouldn’t. “Greene,” I warn.
“Cooper and Sutton are bickering about who won their race while in line for pizza.” He offers me a cheese-less bite. “This or a kiss, your choice.”
I lean forward and bite the pizza. He pretends to be offended, but it’s our turn to pay for ride passes. He gives the teller a twenty in exchange for two paper wristbands.
“What first?” he asks.
“My shift at the kissing booth.”