Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2)

by Christina C Jones

  It took my breath way.

  “Jordan…” I whispered, when I finally had the lung capacity to do it. He didn’t say anything, just hooked the chain around my neck. “What is this?” I asked, fingering the charms. “You tryna have a girl’s eyes sweating or something?”

  He laughed, then kissed me again. “Nah… just thought it was appropriate.”

  “You kept this, all this time?” The answer was obvious, but I asked it anyway, because I was still in awe. “It should have been mine. I never should have given it back.”

  The necklace he’d just put on me was the necklace – not a replica of it – that he’d given me as a gift on our first Christmas as a couple. By that time, I was well on my way to being head over heels for him, and it didn’t matter that the necklace was simple, or not encrusted with precious stones. It represented that I mattered to him. That there was a special place carved out in his heart for me, and in mine for him. I only ever took it off to bathe.

  But when we broke up, I gave it back. It didn’t feel right to hold on to something that had meant so much, especially knowing what I was doing to him. I’d thought about it over the years, assumed he threw it away along with other memories of me.

  And yet, here it was. In its rightful place around my neck again.

  “Merry Christmas,” he said, completely confident and collected, while I was on the verge of breaking down in happy tears. “We can’t stay missing from this party too long, or people are gonna notice.”

  “Yeah,” I nodded, taking a deep breath as Jordan pulled me into his arms. “And I need to be by myself for a minute while I figure out how to make something better than the little corny ass watch I bought you happen.”

  Jordan chuckled. “What kind of watch?”

  I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. It’s doesn’t compare to this,” I said, touching the charms around my neck again.

  “Man, whatever.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, holding me tight as he rocked me back and forth. “I already have my gift anyway. You.”

  “Shut uppp,” I pleaded, my voice choking with emotion as I shoved him in the stomach.

  “What?” he asked, feigning innocence, dimples in full effect.

  “You always have me all… emotional.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Learn to.” He grabbed me by the hands, bringing them up to his mouth to kiss my fingers before he let them go. He smiled at me, then reached up, tucking the charms out of sight underneath the high neck of my dress.

  Protecting my privacy.

  “This is too much,” I muttered to myself, taking another deep breath to calm my emotions.

  “What was that babe?”

  “Nothing,” I shook my head. “Just… I love you.”

  A cocky smirk spread over his mouth as he cupped my face in his hands. “I love you too.”

  “So you’re gonna be a big sister, huh?”

  I looked at Jordan’s reflection in the mirror over my shoulder and nodded. “Yep.”

  To conclude the party, Mel and Eli had made their pregnancy announcement. Of course it wasn’t news to me, but it was for everyone else. Jordan, in particular, seemed intrigued by it.

  Or maybe I was just concerned by his lack of complete horror.

  “Yo, why aren’t you pregnant yet?” he asked, and I damn near choked over my own tongue. The cotton pad I’d been using to apply skin product fell from my fingertips, and my mouth gaped open as I looked at him.

  “What?”

  Jordan’s arms around my waist did nothing to mitigate my shock over a question like that. We’d come back to our suite after the party, made love, showered. I was feeling good, feeling relaxed. And now… this?!

  “I’m just saying… I’ve been shooting up the club on the regular for two months now, and the way biology works…”

  Instead of looking at his reflection, I twisted in his arms to look right at him. “Shooting up the club? Really Jordan?”

  He shrugged. “Painting your walls. Making Cole cream pies. Piping—”

  “Please stop,” I said, holding up my hands.

  Cole cream pies? He had to have been putting some thought into this shit.

  “I have an IUD, fool.” I shook my head, then turned back to the mirror. “99.9% chance of cancelling out your… cream filling.”

  “You’re such a hater,” Jordan said, sucking his teeth. “I’ve been just waiting on you to freak the fuck out cause your period was late. But… your period probably knows better than to be late. And… you’re too damned anal to end up accidentally pregnant anyway,” he added, sounding distinctly… defeated.

  “I was just about to ask you if you knew me at all,” I giggled. “Seriously though… were you trying to get me pregnant?”

  “I haven’t been trying not to.”

  I gasped. “Jordan, we are so not ready for a baby. Maybe when I’m… 35?”

  “In seven damned years, Cole?”

  “I have a birthday in a few months…”

  He scoffed. “Nah, man. Next year.”

  “My birthday?”

  “Nah, our baby’s.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Absolutely not. Maybe… 33?”

  “29.”

  “31?”

  “29.”

  “Okay fine,” I said, with a labored sigh. “Thirty. Final offer.”

  “Nicki.” Jordan turned me to face him, looking me right in the eyes. “You’re not slick. You were already decided on thirty, weren’t you?”

  I averted my gaze. “I mean… it does coincide perfectly when it was time to get my IUD replaced anyway, so…”

  Jordan shook his head, then dropped his lips down to mine. “I’m holding you to that.”

  “So wait… you’re serious about a baby?!”

  He chuckled. “At this moment, nah. I mean if it happened, it happened, but I agree that we’re not ready to do it on purpose. We have time to think about it. Thirtieth birthday… we’re coming back to this conversation to see what we can make happen.”

  I nodded. “Deal.”

  I squealed as he unbelted my robe, slipping his hands inside the silky fabric to get to my nude body underneath. He turned me to face the mirror again, then cupped my breasts in his hands, creating an erotic visual of skin on skin, his mahogany tone contrasted against my copper.

  His mouth went to my neck, sucking and kissing and licking until I was squirming against him. He released his hold on my breasts, and a moment later, the soft fabric of his towel brushed my legs and feet as it fell to the floor.

  He bent me forward over the sink, and I spread my legs, opening for him to sink inside. Once we were connected, he wrapped his arms around me again, and met my gaze in the mirror with a smile.

  “Let’s start practicing now.”

  Twenty-one

  “Keep in mind, this is a player who at one time, we were calling the best in the league.”

  “And I don’t think it’s fair to strip him of that now. It has been a tough season for the Kings, and they’ve managed to pull off a decent record, with the return of Trent Bailey.”

  “Decent isn’t good enough for a championship though.”

  “I said a decent record – not a decent team. The Connecticut Kings are absolutely a championship team, who’ve just gone through a lot of growing pains this year. They have the potential to dominate next season, and I think they will.”

  “So you’re counting them out for the playoffs?”

  “That remains to be seen. St. Louis plays tomorrow, and they know they’re playing for their lives. If they win, they’ll get one of those coveted wildcard spots. If not… their record will be tied with the Kings, and they’ll have to play a tie-breaker for that spot.”

  “If that happens, Jordan Johnson is going to have to be ready to deliver. I don’t know what’s going on with him, but his head just hasn’t seemed to be in the game.”

  “Yeah, I played like that t
he year I met my wife, and the year she divorced me. It was ugly.”

  “America remembers.”

  “I still get hate mail about that game. But back to “Flash” Jordan, the Kings are going to need him focused, no distractions, nothing. If they make it to that tie-breaker, it’s do or die.”

  “Fuck,” Margo muttered, her eyes glued on the screen. They were playing highlights from the game while the commentators spoke – or in Jordan’s case, the lows.

  I wished I knew what was going on with him, whatever the hell was causing him to play like this was a neighborhood pickup game, and not the NFL. I’d seen his performance in practice, talked to his coaches. There, he was fine. He wasn’t falling apart until he got on the field.

  “Do you have any idea what’s going on with him?” Margo asked, turning to look at me. We were in my living room watching the game – cringing through it, really.

  I shook my head. “I wish I did, but no.”

  We grew quiet again as Jordan ambled onto the post-game press conference stage, looking distinctly… crushed. My breath caught in my throat as he sat down, with the brim of a hat Chloe never would have approved pulled low over his face.

  “Jordan, you didn’t play your best game tonight. What would you attribute that to?”

  Jordan shrugged. “Lack of focus. I was warned to watch out for it, and disregarded the advice when I should have listened.”

  “Who warned you? Your coaches? Your teammates?”

  “My father.”

  I frowned. I didn’t even realize Jordan had seen his father, let alone spoken to him. He was always so adamant about not letting Greg Johnson into his head that I was surprised he was taking any of the man’s advice to heart.

  “What exactly did he say?”

  “Nothing I care to repeat.”

  “Your coaches have consistently had good things to say about your practice performance. What’s the difference between that, and your performance on the field?”

  “Millions of people watching.”

  “But it hasn’t seemed to be a problem all season, until a few weeks ago. What changed?”

  Hmmm…

  What had changed a few weeks ago?

  That was around the time I’d noticed him being a little quieter… also around the time we’d started spending more time together, and gotten a little more serious. But… that wouldn’t be affecting his game, would it?

  Instead of answering, Jordan shrugged, and pulled the brim of his Kings baseball cap a little lower. “Next question.”

  What the hell is bothering him so much?

  I couldn’t even be proud of the fact that after that, he fielded a slew of stupid-ass, redundant-ass questions with an impressive amount of patience and grace because I was so caught up in the fact that he wasn’t telling me something. He wrote Washington off as just a bad game, and Atlanta on Christmas Eve was just slightly better. But they still won both of those games.

  This last one, in Florida, was something else.

  They’d lost. And not a cute little “one point, you almost had it” loss. Thirteen unanswered points, for the whole fourth quarter, and I was having a hard time understanding why.

  The interviews moved on to other members of the team, and it was obvious from their answers how much they valued Jordan. They were honest in that they hadn’t done their best, but there wasn’t any throwing under the bus, any pointing fingers at JJ. They understood that it was a team effort, and as a team they hadn’t done their best. I understood that, the coaches understood that.

  But I knew what was about to happen. Sports media was going to pretend they didn’t, and NFL fans would follow suit. And besides that, I knew Jordan very well. Somewhere in Florida, right now, he was convinced tonight’s loss was solely his fault.

  And there wasn’t anything I could do about it.

  “If you don’t get your big ass out of my way, I swear I’ll… I’ll… Ugh!! Will you just move?! You know me!”

  Kendrick just looked at me, a slightly amused glint in his eyes as he stood blocking my entry to Jordan’s apartment. “JJ said no visitors. Nobody.”

  “I’m not nobody!” I yelled, not caring that Ken was at least a foot taller, and two hundred pounds heavier than me. I was two seconds away from pepper spraying his ass. “I’m his damn girlfriend. Why wouldn’t he want to see me?!”

  I’d given Jordan more than enough time to come out of whatever funk he was in that had him ignoring my texts and calls. Since he’d been back from Florida, I’d been too busy managing feelings for my other players to make it to see him in the weight room or practice, while they prepared for the tie-breaker against St. Louis.

  I was fingering the can of pepper-spray on my keys, wondering just how awful it would be if I really did use it on Ken when Jordan’s voice rang out behind him.

  “Man, just go ahead and let her in. She’s not gonna leave it alone.”

  Ken twisted his mouth at me as he stepped aside, and I scowled as I strutted past, flipping my hair. I stopped short when I saw JJ standing in his living room in sweats, hands in his pockets, looking like he wasn’t happy to see me at all.

  “What’s up, Cole?”

  I drew my head back.

  Cole?

  What the hell was up with that?

  I shook my head, taking a few steps closer and putting my bag down. “That’s what I’m here to find out. I’ve been calling, texting… getting nothing back from you. What’s going on?”

  Jordan shrugged, then turned away as he flopped down on the couch. “Not shit.”

  “We both know that’s not true,” I said, rounding the back of the couch to sit down beside him. “Tell me what’s going on with you.”

  I reached for his hand, but he pulled it back, leaving me further confused. “I’m just trying to focus on this thing with St. Louis tomorrow night. I don’t have time for other shit.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Other shit. “Other shit” meaning… me?”

  Instead of the immediate assurance I hoped to get, that my interpretation was way off base, all I got was another shrug.

  “If that’s how you want to take it. Bottom line is that I need my head in the game, not any distractions. This,” he pointed between the two of us, “Is a distraction right now.”

  I narrowed my eyes as tears sprang up behind them. “So…I’m what your father warned you about? The way you’ve been playing… it’s my fault?”

  “All I know is that I was playing better before we were on this lovey-dovey shit. I’m too busy laid up with you to watch game film. Instead of the plays, and routes being on my mind, you are. My head isn’t in the game because you’re in my head, and the shit is about to cost me.”

  “That is bullshit, Jordan,” I snapped, standing up. “And I cannot believe you don’t see that. Cannot believe you fell for your father’s bullshit. What happened? He came to you, filling your head with his dreams of wanting to see you make it? That’s not what he wants, just like it isn’t what he wanted when he ruined us the first time. I’m not the one in your head – he is.”

  “I’m just calling it like I see it.”

  “Yeah, so am I.”

  Jordan sucked his teeth, then stood too, towering over me. “You know, I’d think you’d be happy I was working so hard, so concerned about making this ring happen. If it doesn’t, the Kings can kiss my ass goodbye, and you can tell Eli his plan didn’t work. Trying to placate me with Trent, sticking his daughter in front of me like a prize, however many million dollars. A ring can’t be fucking denied, and I’m going to whoever can deliver it.”

  “Denied by who Jordan? Your father? You think that’s the last and final obstacle that will make him suddenly see you?! We already see you! Without a ring! Your teammates, my father, your mother and sister, me. We fucking see you already!! One day I hope you realize he never will. And that it doesn’t fucking matter, because we are enough.”

  Jordan scowled. “Before a few months ago, you weren’t even trying to f
uck with me, Cole. And you know what… it’s mighty damned convenient that the season I threaten to leave, now you’re on this best girlfriend ever shit, and want to be all over me. Is that your contingency plan? If the money can’t keep me, your pussy will?”

  “You will not disrespect me!”

  For the second time in less than thirty minutes, I was in the face of a man who could snap me in half, staring him down, and I didn’t give a shit. I wasn’t afraid. I was pissed.

  “You need to grow the fuck up,” I said, jabbing him in the chest with every word. “You’re upset, and disappointed, and hurt. I get it. Just like when you were running your ass to the strip club, just like when you were fighting, cursing reporters out, what-the-fuck-ever. You’re acting out. And consider yourself lucky that best-girlfriend-ever is gonna give your space to work your shit out. But you’d better work it out. You need me to not be a distraction? Consider it done, baby. Focus your ass off.”

  I held my tears until I was firmly on the other side of the door.

  I was angry, yes, but more than that I was so disappointed that Jordan still allowed his father to have any power in his life. I understood the desire to have a relationship, the desire to want to make your father proud. I lived it. But the difference was, Eli wasn’t constantly moving the goal posts before we reached them. Nothing would ever be good enough for Greg Johnson, because he wasn’t good enough for himself. It was evidenced in the way he engaged with his kids.

  But that was a fact Jordan had never seemed able to see.

  I shook my head at myself as I made my way back down to my car. Not that long ago, the way he’d spoken to me… I would have made him eat those words, by never speaking a word outside of my job description to him. I would tuck any feelings I had for him away, and kill his stupid ass with professionalism, since he wanted to act crazy with me.