And then he was gone.
Chapter 11
Six weeks later
The alarm on Charlotte's phone woke her up at 9 a.m. with some atrocious sound that she had purposely chosen to make sure she got up. Unlike some days when she could sit around her apartment in yoga pants without being disturbed, she actually had a conference call today and needed to be ready.
Of course, the call this morning hadn't stopped her from staying up until 3 o'clock in the morning working on her manuscript. Charlotte found that she worked best at night when the world around her was quiet, allowing her to focus on her writing. Even when Jordan was in her bed, she still found comfort at her desk. It also helped that she knew he was only a few feet away and would still be there when she went back.
But her life hadn't been that way for more than a month now. When she last saw Jordan, words had been exchanged between them and the only thing they could agree on was a cooling off period for a few days. But a few days turned into a few weeks and then it just kept going. Charlotte knew that he had some unusually long road trips in there and the start of the playoffs. She also knew she had a deadline she had to stick to for her book. It had just become easy to let the days slide away while letting go of the need to check her phone every hour to see if he had called or texted her. Charlotte had wanted to call him, but every time she talked herself into it, she would talk herself out of it. It was probably for the best for now, she would tell herself.
Charlotte went to throw some water on her face and brush her hair to at least feel a little put together, even if no one was going to see her. Then she walked through her closet and opened the secret door to her office, still getting a little thrill for having a spy door in there. She sat down and opened the files for her sequel to Harper's Fair that she had sent to her editor Nick last week. Charlotte found his number on her phone and put him on the speaker so she could talk and review her chapters at the same time.
"Charlotte!"
"Morning, Nick," she replied as cheerfully as she could.
"Ah, I hear in your voice that you up last night writing."
Charlotte smiled. "You know me well."
The two of them dug in as Nick began to go over her work, pointing out issues she should fix and things that needed to be cleaned up.
"You missed a lot of commas this time around for some reason," he said, a bit of amusement in his voice coming through the phone.
And so it went for an hour, making changes here and fixes there. It was all fine and good, but Charlotte knew the dirty work was yet to come, and it usually involved Nick digging deep into her brain to reflect back to her what he really saw going on.
"So." He took a deep breath that was so loud Charlotte could clearly hear it through the phone. "Let's talk about the tone of these chapters."
Charlotte knew exactly what he meant. "A little too dark?"
"Not dark, just angsty, which I totally understand," he said. "You're a very emotional writer and sometimes your personal emotion bleeds through the page. What's going on there?"
She shrugged her shoulders, a reflexive move for herself since Nick couldn't actually see her. "Not much."
"Charlotte, you know what I'm getting at," Nick said in a soothing tone. "I like that you're in Detroit now. I think that the city has a different vibe for you that's coming out on the page in a wonderful way. But even I know about your relationship with Jordan King, and based on the chapters you sent me, I'm assuming things aren't going well."
"That would be a correct assumption," she mumbled.
"I just need you to find a way to push it out of your mind," he said. "Regardless of what is going on in your life, you shouldn't punish Harper for your struggles."
She always loved hearing Nick refer to her characters as if they were real people that she was punishing or befriending or rooting for when they really didn't exist. It was something that made her realize he was the right editor for her.
"I'll try to make it work," she said.
"With Harper or Jordan?" Nick asked, a teasing tone in his voice.
Charlotte smiled. "Harper is much easier to figure out."
One of the side effects of Charlotte's fight with Jordan was that she wasn't going to games regularly anymore. It was the right decision for now, and she was glad she didn't have to see Jordan play or hear fans who were complete strangers ask her about her love life. On the other hand, she hadn't seen her friends as often either. She was missing the Wards and figured she should at least try to see them outside of the arena if she wanted to see them at all. Today, it was a much needed lunch with Rachel.
Charlotte sat down in her living room with some stale coffee she had brewed the day before — another thing she had to do on her own again now that Jordan wasn't at her apartment. She turned on the afternoon news expecting the weather report but landed right at the end of a sports segment.
"Wow, Jordan King has had quite a bit of bad luck, hasn't he?" bantered the news anchor with the big hair.
"He definitely seems to have had his scoring streak knocked out of him since the night he fought Declan Reed in New York."
"And now this injury against Washington last night."
Charlotte sat up and stared at the screen in disbelief. An injury?
"Hopefully, we'll find out later today how bad it is."
The woman behind the anchor desk grimaced. "Let's hope he can get his love life worked out or we won't make it out of the first round of the playoffs, will we?"
The anchors had a friendly chuckle between the two of them before the woman with the big hair teased some stupid story about a flower show this weekend and they broke to a commercial. Charlotte, meanwhile, was running to her computer to start up her web browser. All she had to do was type "Jordan King" into the search bar to get a long list of news stories about the captain of the Pirates, who had been injured the night before in a playoff game during their first round against Washington. Of course, the team was sticking to its typical "upper-body injury," making it impossible to know what was actually wrong with him or how bad it was. Some fan sites speculated that he had bruised his ribs and reporters had confirmed with "team insiders" (whoever they were) that it was something to do with his ribcage.
Charlotte instinctively reached for the cell phone lying next to her computer and almost dialed his number. Then she stopped, once again doubting herself when it came to how to best approach Jordan. Besides, maybe he was sleeping or in pain and why would he want to talk to her like that? Maybe he thought she was only calling because he was hurt and not because she actually wanted to talk to him.
So instead, Charlotte quietly set the phone down and purposely walked through her secret door into her closet. She passed the shelves and racks of dresses and fancy clothes before settling on a gray hoodie with a black tank top underneath and a pair of jeans. Some days she didn't mind dressing up, but she had invited Rachel over for a relaxing lunch and she was going to be relaxed.
She was about to grab more coffee when the doorman buzzed to let Rachel up, then cracked the door open and headed back to the counter, pouring herself another cup.
"Charlotte?" Rachel asked as she poked her head in the door.
"Hey!" She walked over and gave the woman a hug, making sure not to spill her mug.
"Smells like coffee," Rachel said as she walked over to the kitchen counter to put down a big take-out bag.
"It is."
Rachel gave her a little smirk. "Little late for that, don't you think?"
"It's been a long day already."
Rachel began pulling out the Styrofoam containers from the bag. "Lamb souvlaki. I promise you this is from the best Greek place in the area, and you know there are a lot of choices around here."
"Oh, I know," she said, grabbing two forks from the kitchen. "That's been one of the down sides of moving here."
"What are the other down sides?" Rachel asked, grabbing her food and heading to the table.
"The Polish food, the Faygo, the La
fayette Coney Island."
Rachel smiled as she sat down at the kitchen table. "I'm so glad you've seen it my way." She gave Charlotte a determined smile. "Maybe there's also something else?"
"You've been here five minutes and are already trying to dig into my brain," Charlotte replied. "I know you're trying to imply something."
Rachel shrugged. "We just haven't talked about you and Jordan yet, which I understand. But I was thinking maybe he's one of the down sides to moving here."
Charlotte sighed and poked at her lamb souvlaki. "He's not, but he might think I am after what happened."
"And maybe half of the city too." Charlotte's eyes snapped up and stared at her friend. "What? You know there are people who blame you for his recent disasters."
Charlotte knew. The snarky remarks by the newscasters today were just the latest she had been aware of lately. There were also the sports bloggers who blamed her for the Pirates' struggles since the fight in New York. There were the gossip sites that loved reporting and rehashing from their "trusted" sources the details of her apparently salacious love life, blaming her for both Jordan's personal and professional woes.
"Charlotte?" Rachel leaned over, pushing her way into Charlotte's line of sight. "You know it's not really your fault."
She let out a small bitter laugh. "But it is. I should've told him about Declan, and now I'm the city's biggest enemy."
"Ah, yes. You're the villain," Rachel said before taking a bite of her Greek salad. "Did I ever tell you that I used to have a nickname?"
"And what was that?"
"I was the Shark of Silicon Valley."
For the first time in weeks, Charlotte let out a loud genuine laugh. "The Shark?"
"Yep. I was in charge of mergers and acquisitions for a major law firm out there. Well, more acquisitions than mergers," she added. "If there was a hostile dot-com takeover, my company was the one the hostile party would hire, and I was put in charge. I was ruthless and I always caught my prey."
"So you met Adam when his company wanted to take over someone else."
Rachel gave her a small smile and shrugged. "I met Adam when I was hired by another company that wanted control of Titan."
Charlotte was shocked. "Wait, you tried to take Titan from Adam and Jack in a hostile takeover?"
"Tried, yes. But there was something about facing off against Adam that just..." Her voice trailed off and she leaned back in her chair.
"So he somehow made you decide not to go through with it?" Rachel nodded quietly. "You were the Shark and you lost because of Adam."
She laughed at Charlotte. "Oh no, that's not what happened," she replied, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. "I didn't want his company. I wanted him. As I said, I always got what I wanted."
Charlotte laughed. "And you lived happily ever after!"
"You know, you can do the same thing."
The smile was still on her face, but Charlotte shook her head. "I'm not sure about that."
"We all know how much he wants to be with you."
"Wanted," she said.
"Wants," Rachel said with determination. "You may not have seen it, but Adam and I did. Why do you think we left that night after his dinner here as soon as we had an excuse?"
"I didn't think it was that obvious," Charlotte muttered.
"Oh, it was," Rachel said. "Then the story about you meeting some book club spread throughout the suburban moms' gossip network."
"Really?"
"Oh, don't be embarrassed," she replied. "Those women have been bragging to their husbands that they knew about you guys way before that fight with Declan."
Charlotte started pushing the souvlaki around with her fork again, suddenly feeling like she wasn't as hungry as she had been.
"That fight was because of me."
"Then maybe fixing this thing with Jordan should also be because of you," Rachel said.
"I don't know if this is fixable."
Rachel's eyes met hers. "I refuse to believe that, and so should you."
Charlotte sat at her desk and stared, her eyes shifting back and forth from her computer to her phone. Her manuscript needed fixes and words, but her heart wanted something more.
She fought to get out of New York, fought to try and find her happy ending somewhere else. She couldn't give up just yet, especially because she knew what she wanted. She didn't want the fame or the money or the front page of the New York Post. She wanted Jordan.
Her hand reached instinctively for her phone, and she quickly dialed the number. It rang three times before Jordan's voice mail kicked in. "Hey, you've reached Jordan King. Sorry I—"
She hung up. What was she thinking? Sure, she needed to fight for him, but she also needed to at least have an idea of what to say. What if he had answered her call and all she did was stumble over words, sounding like a blubbering idiot who wasn't even close to her fighting voice?
Charlotte took a deep breath to compose the crazy thoughts in her brain.
"Right, let's get on with this," she told herself.
His phone once again went to voicemail and she realized she had to talk now or risk looking like a fool if he saw missed call after missed call from her without a message. She took a deep breath and started.
"Hey, it's me. Charlotte. 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."
Charlotte stared at the phone in her hands a few seconds before she finally disconnected the call. Then her head fell dramatically on the keyboard on her desk. That was the worst call ever. She sounded like she was 14 years old and calling some boy she had a crush on. Maybe it would've been better if she had just hung up again instead. Charlotte sat up and took a deep breath, trying to regain control over her thoughts. What had she said to him? She hoped he was OK? And the "bye" at the end? It sounded like she was a 1980's Valley Girl. "So, like, byeeeee!"
The worst. She looked at her novel again. Maybe it would be better to focus on that instead and deal with the call later. Unfortunately, her head slamming against the keyboard left a long line of random letters in chapter 11. A whole page full. She highlighted the offending text and instinctively smashed the delete key.
Instinct. She was over thinking all of this, wasn't she? Maybe calling again and just telling him how she felt, using her instinct to give herself a voice, maybe that would be what she really needed. Charlotte quickly grabbed the phone, hoping that Jordan wouldn't freak out when he noticed a third call from her. But she was determined to make this one count.
"Hi, it's Charlotte again. I'm calling because I need to know what I can do to make this right with us. I want to say so much so I'll start by telling you that my past is my past. But my future is still being written, and I want it to be written with you. I don't like that my story is being told without you. Writing metaphors, I know. Just call me or text or even stop by. I haven't given up on us yet."
She took a deep breath and hung up. That was it. That was the message she wanted to give him, the message she should've given him the first time. Hell, the message she should've given him weeks ago.
Charlotte turned back to the computer screen before her fingers began to dance over the keys as she wrote faster and faster.
Three hours later, she finally saved her work, exhausted but inspired. She walked through her secret door to stare at the clothes in her closet. She knew exactly what her plan of attack would be next when it came to Jordan King, and she couldn't wait for tomorrow to arrive so she could execute it.
Jordan was a creature of habit. Even though it wasn't a game day, he had still taken his normal afternoon nap.
That's apparently when Charlotte had called him. Twice. Or three time. There were three missed calls but only two messages. Maybe she left a third one and deleted it or called and then hung up without leaving one. He hadn't actually done anything with them after he woke up and saw them waiting for him. Maybe he j
ust needed to build up his emotional strength for whatever was going to be there. He just knew this wouldn't be as easy as simply pressing the voicemail button on his phone.
That's how he ended up here an hour ago, sitting at the kitchen table staring at the phone he had dropped right in the middle of it. It was taunting him. He could hear the phone's little robotic voice in his head laughing at him. Jordan really needed to press the button and listen to the message, but he was too afraid to hear what she had to say to him. Maybe it would be good, but maybe it wouldn't. He wasn't sure he could handle it being less than good.
He needed to get over this whole thing. Yes, she should've told him about Declan but at this point, was Jordan being the coward? His ego was so bruised he was too afraid to just pick up the phone and say something to her. Anything to her, really.
The door to the garage opened, and Jordan could hear his brother coming in and dropping his bag on the floor. Ethan made an appearance in the doorway to the kitchen, stopping slightly at the sight of his brother.
"You look pensive," his brother said as he dropped his keys and wallet on the counter.
Jordan stared at the cell phone. "Kitchen table," he said quietly.
Ethan froze. "You OK?" he asked.
He turned back to his brother. "Kitchen table."
Ethan looked at him with trepidation. Then he walked over and opened the cupboard above the fridge to get the scotch, grabbed two tumblers, and set them all down on the table.
"So what travesty has befallen you at the hands of your dastardly cellular device?" he asked in an exaggerated tone.
"What?"
"Why are you staring at your phone?" he deadpanned.
"Charlotte called."
Ethan's hand paused for a moment, trying to take in this new information. Then he sat down and started pouring the scotch.
"So what did she say?" he finally asked as he handed a tumbler over to his brother.
Jordan took a sip and looked down at the phone. "I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"She left two messages on my phone, but I haven't listened to them."
For the Captain (The Detroit Pirates Book 1) Page 13
