Jordan (Season Two: The Ninth Inning #5) (15 page)

I’m still giggling when Colby swings, connecting with the ball, but it’s not enough to go over the wall. The cheer still claps for him.

“Next up, Blake ‘Grumpy’ Foster.”

Blake turns back to the dugout, and his face is stone. Wow, if looks could kill. Blake steps up to the plate, and on the second swing, knocks it clear out of the park. The crowd goes nuts. I even clap at the impressive home run.

“Heading to the plate, Tanner ‘The Kid’ Coats.” Tanner takes a bow and then takes his stance. Like Colby, he can’t get it over the wall.

“Now, we have Jordan ‘The Playa’ Johnson.”

The Playa?
Jordan is not a player. Even when I first met him, he wasn’t sleeping around. Is he doing that now? No. I know him better than anyone. It has to be an inside joke or something dumb.

Jordan shakes his head as he reaches the plate. I hold my breath as he hits the ball. I’m up on my feet, and I watch it easily sail over the wall. I think it goes further than Blake’s. As Jordan comes back to the dugout, he stops and I think he’s looking right at me. I quickly take my seat and drop my head. He can’t tell it’s me. I’m too far up.

When I look up, the announcer calls out the next player. My heart is racing so fast, it’s thumping in my ear. Jordan didn’t see me. There’s no way. Soon, the first round is over. Blake, Jordan, and Roman are the only three to get it over the wall.

On Jordan’s next turn at the bat, he looks back up to where I’m sitting. Maybe he sees someone behind me he knows. Or maybe it’s not even me he’s staring at. He slams it out of the park again. Roman doesn’t make it when he’s up, leaving Blake and Jordan.

On the next round, Blake fouls out and Jordan hits it one more time over the wall, making him the winner. I stand with the rest of the crowd and cheer as he waves his hat to the crowd.

My first thought is: he’s still hot. My second thought: he needs a haircut.

I filter in with the crowd and escape the stadium. I’m thinking I’m in the clear; Jordan would never know I was here. Until I get to the car.

There’s a letter on my windshield.

“Damn,” I sigh out loud. How does he do this? I grab the letter and head to the salon. I’m not going to read it. I’m not doing it.

My feet hurt when I escort the last customer out the door. The convention worked because we’re booked solid for the next two months. The girls and I are over the moon about it. I drag my feet into my office and try to finish up the paperwork quickly because I want to soak in a long bath.

Once I finally make it home, I drop everything onto my kitchen counter and of course, the contents of my purse fall out everywhere. The letter from Jordan is on top.

“Damn,” I cuss under my breath and pick it up. My curiosity always wins. I rip it open and fall to the floor right there in the kitchen.

It’s not to me. It’s to Eden. I cover my mouth and feel my body tremble as I read each word on the paper in Jordan’s handwriting. I sob and begin to rock back and forth.

He has no right. None at all.

I stand up, go to the fridge, and get a bottle of wine. When I open the cork, the smell makes me gag. It must have gone bad and I’m in no shape to go out and get more. I’m a wreck and mad.

I’m so very mad.

I take the bottle and fling it across the room and watch it shatter, splattering red wine everywhere. I grab the mugs from the cupboard and throw them with all my might. One right after the other. Once all of them are gone, I go into the living room and flip over my TV and throw my DVDs next, then the pictures on the wall, and then finally I pick up a wedding photo, which fell from the album, and tear it in two.

I suddenly stop.

The tears are burning my cheeks and my throat hurts. I just destroyed my favorite picture of Jordan and me. I turn around and look at the destruction behind me. What’s wrong with me? I’m not a violent person. I’ve never done anything like this. I sob harder and go to my bed, clutching the picture to my chest.

“Ms. Carington can see you now.” The older woman smiles at me.

I nod, stand, and slowly walk into the room.

“Mrs. Johnson.” Ms. Patty Carington holds out her hand. I gingerly take it. “Nice to meet you. Let’s sit here.” She guides me over to the couch, and she sits in a chair across from me. I look all around the tan and beige room. There are a lot of books and degrees on the wall. “Mrs. Johnson?”

I turn my attention to Ms. Carington. “Please, call me Heidi.”

“Sure. And you’re more than welcome to call me Patty.”

“Okay.”

“So, why are you here, Heidi?”

I take a deep breath and sit my purse by my feet. “I’m going crazy,” I speak honestly to the therapist.

“Okay. Why do you think you’re going crazy?”

I tell her what I did to my apartment.

“Why did you do it?”

“Jordan sent me a letter.”

“Who’s he?”

“My soon-to-be ex-husband.”

“And the letter was upsetting?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“He wrote it to our daughter who died three years ago.”

“What did she die of?”

“She was stillborn. The doctors could never give us a clear answer.”

“So, your soon-to-be ex-husband wrote a letter to your dead daughter and you destroyed your apartment. Is that right?”

“Yep.”

“Why are you getting a divorce?”

I look at the woman whose brown hair is in a perfect bob. “Because I love him.”

She furrows her brow for a beat. “You still love him?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re divorcing him?”

“Yes.”

“Explain to me why.” She crosses her legs and rubs her chin.

“Jordan has always wanted a family. When I got pregnant, he was over the moon. Then when Eden died, it was as if the entire universe crashed on top of us. Now, I can’t give him any more kids because I won’t go through the pain again.” The first tear falls.

“You
can’t
give him children or
won’t
?”

“I can still have children, but I won’t because I’m afraid I did something to cause Eden to die and the pain is too much for me.”

“Was Jordan unsupportive toward you?”

“No.”

“Was he mean? Did he shut you out or blame you for Eden’s death?”

“No.” Actually, it was the opposite; Jordan did everything he could to help me.

“Have you been to therapy before?”

“No.”

“Why?” She sits back more in her chair.

“I thought it was unnecessary at the time. But now everything is falling apart.”

“How so?”

“My business is taking off. I mean, we’re doing great right now, and the only person I want to celebrate with is Jordan, but there’s no way, and I miss him terribly.”

“Does he want you back?”

I nod and tell her all about the letters, cards, and gifts he’s been sending me since I left him. I tell her how great Jordan is and how he’ll make someone happy someday.

“How does that make you feel?”

“What?”

“Jordan with another woman. How does it make you feel?”

I open my mouth to answer with my favorite word
fine
, but I stop.

“You don’t want to see him with someone else, do you?”

I turn my head away from her.

“Let’s try this, how did you feel when you were first with Jordan?”

The smile appears before I can stop it. “Great. Amazing. Outstanding. The best I ever felt.”

“I see.” She checks her watch. “Heidi, I want to see you again in a few days.” She stands, writes something on a card, and hands it to me. “I think we have a lot more to discuss.”

I’VE BEEN TEMPTED to write another letter to Heidi, but decide against it. She hasn’t contacted me since I caught her at my practice and left Eden’s letter on her car. I should probably give her a little break before the next one. I want to see her though. It’s as if the more days we’re apart, the closer we get to being divorced, the more I miss her. Our time in South Carolina sure didn’t help things.

She’s so close, just across town, yet she might as well be across the world. I was hoping against all hope that maybe things would change a little for the better between us. However, her lack of response to Eden’s letter has me worried. Maybe I shouldn’t have delivered that one.

Tanner clears his throat, gaining our attention in the locker room as we prepare for practice. “So, I need a place to crash for a few days.” Felix, Blake, Hector, Trent, and Roman all immediately turn toward their lockers. “Oh, c’mon!” Tanner objects. “We’re supposed to be friends and like family. You guys would rather I stay in a hotel instead of helping me out?”

“What’s wrong with your apartment?” Colby asks.

“Nothing. There’s something wrong with the one next door, and the landlord is kicking us all out for a few days while he brings in exterminators for the entire floor or something.”

Spencer laughs. “I told you to never get a place in that building. You need a nicer place. You can afford it, in case you didn’t realize that.”

Tanner narrows his eyes. “I’m looking! In the meantime, I’d rather one of my good teammates help me out.” The remaining guys turn toward their locker, leaving me the last dummy facing Tanner. He grins. “Jordan?”

“Don’t do it, man,” Roman says. “He’s a freak,” he laughs, shaking his head.

I’m not convinced when Tanner adds, “I can tone it down.”

“Sure,” I say with a shrug. Why not?

“Finally! Glad someone in this room cares about the youngest member.”

The guys laugh, but otherwise ignore him as he continues to rant about how we obviously don’t care about his wellbeing. He could very well go stay in a hotel room, but why waste the money? Hopefully, I won’t regret it.

What I do regret, however, is the fact that ever since Hector gave Colby his nickname, he’s given us all one. He dubbed me the playa because he said it might help me land a quick date. Because some girls like knowing a man won’t commit to her. When he said that, my first thought was of Rosie from the hotel that night, and it wasn’t a good thing. Everyone thinks I need a date now apparently.

We do our usual drills in practice before hitting the weight room. Some of the guys are pulled into the video room to watch tapes, and I’ll probably head in there after my workout. The guys have consistently told me how letting Tanner stay at my house is a bad idea. It’s fun to see Tanner defend himself, but it’s got me a little worried.

Not much I can do about it now; I already told him he could come.

“That’s it. I’m tired of hearing this shit. I’m going to see Sofia,” Tanner says, making a show of being fed up. “The hands of a God always treat me well.”

“Not today, they aren’t,” Blake interrupts him. He hits the treadmill a bit too hard to turn it off, going from a full run to a complete stop. “She has an appointment with me.”

“Oh, come on! You can’t Sofia-block me,” Tanner protests. He doesn’t seem to believe he had an appointment, and I can’t blame him. Blake seemed lost in his running until Tanner mentioned going to see her.

Blake ignores him as he grabs a towel to wipes his face. He grabs his bottle of water, smirks, and leaves to see his girlfriend.

“What are my chances if I wait for him to leave her office?” Tanner asks once he’s out of the room.