The brothers stared at the piece of technology, both pensive about what to do next. Jordan was worried that Ethan would laugh at him when he told him about not listening to the messages. But instead, Ethan just took a drink from his glass.
"What are you waiting for?"
"I don't know if I want to hear them. I mean, what if it's bad?"
Ethan shrugged. "Won't know until you listen."
"Because it could definitely be bad."
"Oh, for God's sake!" His brother dropped his glass on the table and quickly grabbed the phone. "We're listening to them now."
"Wait, I don't—"
"What's your password to unlock this thing?"
Jordan smiled in stubborn triumph. "I'm not telling you."
Ethan pressed some numbers and earned a few negative tones from the phone before a ding finally confirmed he unlocked it. "Seriously, Jordan? Dad's birthday? That's way too obvious."
"Not that obvious," he replied. "It could've been 6-1-6-1."
Ethan smirked. "I tried that first."
Jordan slumped in his chair, a feeling of dread washing over him. Not only was this not going to be good, but Ethan was going to be there to witness the whole thing. Better to just accept his fate and let it happen at this point. It couldn't get any worse.
"You know, she called three times."
"I know."
"And it doesn't look like she left a message the first time."
"I'm aware."
Ethan looked up tentatively from the phone's screen, his blue eyes searching Jordan's face before finally deciding to move ahead. He called into Jordan's voicemail, put the phone in the middle of the table and pressed the speaker button so they could both hear.
"Hey, it's me. Charlotte." Does she sound happy or not happy? "I was just calling because I heard you got hurt and I wanted to check and see if it was OK. I mean, if you were OK. So yeah, I... hope you're OK and maybe we can talk. So, bye."
It was calm and collected and made Jordan feel conflicted. Was she just calling because he was hurt? And why did her voice lack any emotion? Was she nervous or didn't know what to say or really didn't care that much about calling in the first place?
"Jordan?" He looked up to see his brother staring at him. "I can hear you thinking."
"Sorry," he replied quietly.
Ethan gave him a consoling look. "There's still another message on here."
Without asking, he reached over to play the next one.
"Hi, it's Charlotte again. I'm calling because I need to know what I can do to make this right with us."
Jordan couldn't help the smile that began to tease his lips, getting bigger and bigger with each word from Charlotte's message. Her voice was determined and hopeful this time. She wanted to make it right and she wanted to be with him.
"I haven't given up on us yet."
She hadn't given up on him. She wasn't holding his bruised ego against him. And to be honest, he hadn't given up on her either. He had never really given up on her. He just didn't know how to approach her and change this. But he quietly was thanking whatever it was that made her finally decide to reach out to him.
"So what are you going to do now?" He looked up to see Ethan sitting across from him, his face warm and comforting. "Seriously, Jordan. What are you going to do?"
He just shook his head and smiled. "I'll come up with something."
Chapter 12
Charlotte had thought about wearing her Jordan King jersey to the game that night, like she always did, but then decided to go a different route. Red t-shirt with a deep V-neck, tight blue jeans and black heels. By the way fans were looking at her as she walked down the corridor in the arena, she was definitely getting noticed. She didn't always like standing out in a crowd, but surrounded by black and white jerseys, all eyes were on her, which was exactly what she wanted.
It had only been a day since she left those voicemails for Jordan, and he hadn't returned any of them. It was disappointing, sure, but it made her more determined to find a way to get his attention, and hopefully his forgiveness too. Charlotte still didn't think she should have to apologize for her relationship with Declan. It happened and there was nothing she could do about that anymore. But she should've been more honest with Jordan. She just hoped he would forgive her, especially considering she wanted to forgive him after their blow up in her apartment.
Charlotte watched as more fans turned to look at her as she went by, but she couldn't really tell what they were thinking as they stared at her. Were they mad because her ex-boyfriend had punched their captain? Were they happy she was here, assuming it meant that Jordan would be scoring again? Did they think her return meant Jordan would definitely be in the line-up tonight? To be fair, she honestly didn't know the answer to that. Jordan was apparently a game-time decision because of his injury. Coming to the game was a gamble, but it was a gamble Charlotte hoped would pay off.
Game five against Washington tonight was a potential game changer. With the Pirates ahead in the series, a win here would eliminate their rivals and move them on to the next round in the playoffs. It was a huge deal for the team, and they would have to bring out their big guns to get it done. She just hoped Jordan would see her in the stands to know she was making an effort to fix whatever happened between them and that she was there to support him on the ice as well.
"Charlotte!" Aiden yelled, running up the stairs from his seat to meet her.
"Hey!" she replied, giving him a big hug.
A few fans looked at her and then turned away, perhaps not willing to trash talk her while she held a small child. Charlotte walked down to her seat with Aiden's hand in hers, saying hello to Adam and getting a hug from Rachel.
"It's good to see you back," Rachel said quietly. "I would ask how things are going now, but I have a feeling there are many prying ears around us."
"I know, but there's not much to tell," Charlotte replied. "We'll see how this plays out tonight."
"Why do I have a feeling you're not talking about the game?"
Charlotte just gave her a knowing smile and settled in, waiting for the players to come out and warm up. The lights went down and the teams spilled out onto the ice with Charlotte keeping an eye out for Jordan. He was there, warming up without his helmet on, which she had teasingly warned him about before. "You can still get hurt in warm-ups, you know," she once told him. But tonight, she didn't mind watching his hair blowing in the breeze as he sped around the rink.
That's when he saw her. Their eyes locked for just a moment as he went past, but Charlotte knew he had noticed her and would know she was here. The red t-shirt had done its job. She couldn't take her eyes off of him as he moved around the ice, and she worried a bit when she noticed a slight grimace as he twisted to get a stray puck and give it a small slap towards his goaltender. He was definitely out there, but he was playing hurt and her fingers clenched nervously knowing he wasn't at his best. He was going to be a moving target for the other team all night.
And they definitely targeted him. It started in the first period with each hit a little harder on him than his teammates, a little more directed specifically towards his rib cage, just under his padding. But Jordan battled back each time. He seemed to be in a zone that she had never seen him in before, as if he had extra motivation to leave all he could out on the ice.
About halfway through the first period, he found the perfect line on the ice, breaking through two defensemen to easily shoot the puck past the goalie and into the net. The noise was deafening from the crowd in the arena as the Pirates skated over to congratulate their captain. In the celebratory scrum, Charlotte could see Jordan looking over his players' shoulders, catching her eye and smiling at her.
"Fist bump, Charlotte!" Aiden cheered besides her.
She was more than happy to oblige.
It only took a few more minutes before Jordan scored again, but the reaction from the crowd was a bit more subdued. This time, he had been watching his shot go into the net as an o
pponent skated up and checked him in the back into the boards. He winced, slowly getting up off the ice as the crowd booed the Washington player who was now being escorted to the penalty box. Charlotte could tell the goon had done some damage as Jordan immediately went to the bench without celebrating his goal and headed down the hallway to the locker room. He didn't even acknowledge the crowd as he left the ice.
The second period was calm and quiet. But it was too calm and too quiet because there was no scoring and no Jordan. The lack of seeing him on the ice for twenty minutes made Charlotte nervous. She felt like her stomach was tied up in knots, a nervous energy taking over her as she tried to will him back to no avail. Being gone this long wasn't a good sign.
During the intermission, she could feel the tension in the crowd as fans began to worry. Where was King? What happened to him? One fan even came up and asked her if she knew anything. Charlotte could only shake her head and hold her hands in her lap, too afraid that her nervousness would be obvious if she wasn't physically restraining them.
The crowd quietly stared at the entrance to the locker room as the team came back on the ice for the last period. The players spilled out and still nothing. No Jordan. Nothing more than subdued cheering from the fans. Their captain was still missing from the ice.
Charlotte took a breath and put her head down. Then she heard the crowd. There was a buzz, a rumbling, a nervous energy that was starting to take hold. It felt like that moment right before the skies would open and the thunder would echo through the streets of Manhattan.
Except this was Detroit, and this was hockey.
She looked up to see Jordan coming back out, helmet on and eyes focused on the crowd. Charlotte remembered the words he told her about how cool it was to be out on the ice when the arena was full. She smiled apprehensively. He would need more than just a cool feeling from the fans to get through the next period on the ice, especially with his broken body.
But when the whistle blew, he was ready to go. Charlotte still noticed he winced here or there when he got hit, but he seemed to have found a way to avoid hits rather than aggravate his injury. For the most part, it was working. He was getting passes to his teammates, skating down the ice pretty easily, and motivating the team to keep pushing. He was being the perfect captain.
But avoiding the hits had a disadvantage: it's not easy to keep balanced on two thin pieces of metal when you're trying to dodge an opponent. Jordan took a swing at the puck, then ducked out of the way of a defenseman, sending his skates in different directions. But no one was paying attention to his fall on the ice. Instead, they were all watching the puck he had just shot as it bounced off the goalie's leg pad and into the net.
Jordan King, injured captain of the Detroit Pirates, had scored a hat trick.
Hats came flying down from the seats above Charlotte as Aiden got hit with a cowboy hat. He was so excited, he didn't seem to care. Instead, he scooped it up along with some baseball caps and a pink beret that hadn't made it all the way to the ice.
"Charlotte, can you help me?" he yelled at her.
She quickly grabbed the small boy and walked down to the glass, a huge smile on her face.
"You ready?" she said.
The boy nodded and she hoisted him up so he could toss the leftover hats on to the ice with the biggest smile she had ever seen. Even bigger than when he first met Jordan in her apartment a few short months ago.
That's when she saw the captain, who had been aimlessly skating around the rink, make a beeline for their spot. He smiled and scooped up the cowboy hat that Aiden was tossing over the glass, letting it dangle from the blade of his stick as he yelled "Thanks, buddy!" Then Jordan turned to look at her and gave her a warm smile.
The captain ducked his head and started skating back to his bench with that look still on his face as Aiden bounded up the stairs with Charlotte in tow.
After the debacle in New York, she wasn't about to make a scene in front of an entire arena full of fans despite the fact that she so desperately wanted to do something to make sure Jordan knew she saw his smile. But the quick exchange between the two of them was apparently pretty obvious.
"Don't think I didn't see that," Rachel said after Charlotte returned to her seat.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied innocently.
"That hat trick was for you."
Charlotte just smiled and turned back to the ice, trying to ignore Rachel's remark. She had no hope or wish that her friend was right. She didn't need hopes or wishes because she just knew.
Jordan King had scored a hat trick for her.
Charlotte quickly peeled off her tight jeans, put on a pair of comfy yoga pants, and settled on the sofa with her TV remote. She had hoped to get some writing done after the game, but her mind was still buzzing with the image of Jordan smiling at her from the ice. The Pirates had won their game that night, eliminating Washington from the playoffs in no small part thanks to Jordan's hat trick. So instead of doing work, Charlotte decided to watch the news and relive the events at the arena that night.
Apparently, the game had been a little too overwhelming for her because she woke up an hour later after completely missing the sports segment on the local news. Instead, she opened her eyes to see some late night comedian talking to a pompous actor she recognized as the guy who lived a floor below her parents in New York.
Then she heard the sound again that had woken her up in the first place. Someone was knocking on her door. Whoever it was hadn't been announced by the doorman so it was either someone who lived in the building or had access to it.
Perhaps someone she had given her second key to so he could park in her extra space in the garage.
She padded quietly over to the door and peeked through the peephole.
Jordan.
Charlotte quickly ran a hand through her hair to try and tame it before looking down at her clothes, thankful that she had kept the tight t-shirt on. She opened it to find Jordan standing there in a well-fit gray suit with a white shirt and black tie. On his head was a matching gray fedora. He looked classic and sexy and amazing.
"Hi," she said tentatively.
"Hey," he replied in the same tone.
"I like the hat."
A smile broke across his face. "Can you believe someone threw this on the ice?"
"Well, it was a pretty spectacular hat trick," she said. "You can't just give the captain of the Detroit Pirates some cheap cap after a performance like that."
He laughed — laughed! — and Charlotte could feel her heart speed up in her chest.
"Would you like to come in?" she asked, moving away from the doorway.
Jordan grabbed the fedora's rim and tipped the hat in her direction, tentatively walking in as she closed it behind him. He stood in her living room, one hand in his pocket and looking like he did the night she brought him back here after their first date, like he belonged in this place. But he seemed more nervous than comfortable compared to the many other times he had been here.
"I know it's late so I hope I'm not intruding."
"You're not," she answered quickly.
"It's just that uh..." He looked down at his feet. "I don't really know where to start."
Charlotte gave him a small smile and slowly walked over, wrapping her arms around his waist. He inhaled sharply and she realized his ribs were probably still in pain. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him physically after all the emotional stress they had put each other through. But as she pulled away from him, he gripped her waist and held on tight, burying his head in the crook of her neck.
"Don't let go."
Charlotte exhaled and followed his instructions, relaxing every muscle in her body as she gently laid her head on his chest. She had missed being held by him. Being away from him had bothered her more than the fight itself. It couldn't happen again. She wouldn't allow him to be that far away from her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Me too."
His han
d found its way into her hair and she smiled as she snuggled in closer to him. He smelled as good as she remembered.
Jordan pulled away and looked at her, his blue eyes still as deep and dark as she remembered. His hand came up to sweep the fedora off his head and she could see the desire in his eyes as he leaned closer to her. Charlotte met him halfway, her lips caressing his, saying everything she wanted to say to him without speaking a word. She moaned softly, her fingers sliding up his back under his jacket to pull him closer. But instead of a warm reply, he pulled back slightly and quietly groaned in pain, his hand suddenly reaching for his rib cage.
"I'm sorry. Did that hurt?" she asked.
"Maybe."
"You're not OK, are you?"
"Occupational hazard," he said with a lopsided smile.
She felt a sudden burning in her chest as if she was going to run out and punch whoever had hurt him like this.
"How many ribs did you bruise?"
"Not bruised."
"What do you mean 'not bruised'?" Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. "Did you play tonight with a broken rib?"
"Two."
"Jordan—"
He raised his hand, his finger pausing gently on her lips to stop whatever she was about to say next. "Don't. I've already had this lecture from the trainers." He pulled his finger back and Charlotte's lips felt cold without his touch. "Besides, I've got at least a week to heal now and they were only hairline fractures. I'm going to be fine."
"You promise?"
"I promise," he said, kissing her gently on the forehead. "I have to say though, I was a little worried that you may not care after, you know, everything."
"Impossible," she said quietly.
Charlotte tried to swallow down the emotion building in her throat. Of all the things she had thought about him since their fight — both positive and negative — no longer caring about what happened to him never crossed her mind.
"So what happens now?" he asked. "I've never done any of this before."
"What? Get back together with a woman after her ex-boyfriend punched you during a hockey game?"
For the Captain (The Detroit Pirates Book 1) Page 14