Page 41 of Old Fashioned
“I say I’m looking forward to you bringing all those W’s you’ve gotten on the road home tonight.”
Jordan raised his eyebrows, gaze following the throw Rodgers had just made to Smith on the field. “If all goes according to my plan, that’s exactly what you’ll see.” He glanced up at Eli before his eyes were on the field again. “Missed you at last week’s game.”
Eli grumbled. “Yeah, well, they had a plumbing emergency down at the nursing home Friday evening. I couldn’t very well leave Ms. Betty Collins without a properly working toilet, as I’m sure you well know.”
Jordan chuckled at that, and I found myself wondering who Betty Collins was, and my curiosity climbed the more I watched them together. That was, until the Mom Parade made their way to the fan side of the fence.
I rolled my eyes at the way they leaned over it, giving glimpses of their cleavage, their eyes light and playful as they talked to Jordan. They asked if they could get him anything, if he needed a shoulder massage before the game, if he wanted to hang outafterthe game — and any time Jordan gave them an incredulous look, the women hid their intentions under a flurry of laughter, as if they were joking when we all knew they’d jump at the chance to have Jordan in their bed.
I didn’t like the way my stomach soured at that thought.
I couldn’t stop watching, and I wondered if he felt it, because as soon as the parade moved on, Jordan’s eyes met mine, and I tore my gaze away like I’d been caught.
After that, I kept my focus on my own tasks, working through my pre-game checklist as the clock wound down toward kick off. Just beforehand, Jordan sidled up beside me.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Yep,” I answered, eyes still on my notebook. “Everyone is wrapped up and massaged and iced and ready to rock.”
“Good,” he answered, watching the field.
I glanced at him, feeling like he was a complete stranger. That’s what it had felt like ever since… well, since the night we both pretended never happened. We worked together the same as we had before, and to everyone else, I imagined we looked just fine.
But it was different.
We didn’t joke, we didn’t talk about anything of substance, and we definitely didn’t spend any time getting to know each other better. He’d come over to help Paige twice since that night, and both times, he’d avoided me like the plague, and I’d done the same, leaving him to work with her and asking him to stay for dinner knowing full well that I didn’t actually want him to and he wouldn’t out of respect for our agreement.
We were putting it behind us, acknowledging it as a mistake and pretending like it never happened — just like I’d suggested.
And still… I longed for the version of us that existed before that night.
I also longed for a day when I wouldn’t accidentally find myself staring at his mouth, remembering the way it felt pressed against mine.
A blush heated my cheeks as that thought found me, and I cleared my throat, glancing at the stands behind us and back at him. “Was that Elijah Braxton you were talking to?”
Jordan smirked, but didn’t take his eyes off his players. “Indeed. He’s a big football fan, comes to every game — even the away games, when he can.” One eyebrow climbed as he faced me. “And believe me when I say that when we lose, he’s the first one to let me know what he thinks about it.”
I chuckled. “Well, at least if wedolose, you’ll also have plenty of…support, too.” I nodded to where the women who were just talking to him were gathered in the front row of the bleachers.
Their smiles grew when Jordan looked at them, and he had a brow cocked when he turned back to me. “I don’t think I want the kind of support that crew would offer.”
I bit my lip against a smile, not sure why his reaction to them made me happy. “Anyway, you better get out there,” I said just as the referee blew the whistle signaling that it was time for the coin toss.
Jordan watched me for a long moment with a curious gaze, but then he nodded, jogging out onto the field without another word.
And the game began.
It was a wondrous sight to behold, the way Jordan could hold his shit together through one of the most nerve-racking games I’d ever witnessed. There was a lot on the line in this home game, and we volleyed back and forth with the Salem Serpents, scoring a touchdown only for them to answer with one, in return.
We’d go up by three, then down by three, up by seven, then down by three again. Back and forth, over and over through every single quarter of the game.
And all the while, Jordan paced the sideline calmly and coolly, chewing his gum, a permanent scowl on his face as he talked to the other coaches behind his clipboard and pulled players to the side to whisper in their ears each time they came off the field.
Me, on the other hand?
I was a mess.
My knuckles were white from how hard I gripped my notebook all game, and though I would never wish for a player to get injured, not having anything to take my focus off the field put me even more on edge. I would check in on the players I was working with from time to time, but for the most part, I wasn’t needed — not for anything other than support.
