Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2) (39 page)

“Would the team doctor be ready to have my ass for having you out like this? You know I would have met you at your home, right?”

I shook my head, gingerly. “Nah, nothing like that. I’m supposed to be moving about as normally as I can, and I actually have little minor exercises and stuff they prescribed. Just nothing strenuous yet.”

“Good,” she nodded, pulling her bag into her lap, and opening it. She took out a folder and opened it, sliding it across the table to me. I grinned when I recognized what it was.

#1 – be taken seriously

#2 – gain father’s respect

#3 – Nicki

“So,” she asked, folding her hands together on the table. “These were your goals when you and I met four months ago. How do you think you’ve managed so far?”

I chewed at my bottom lip for a second, thinking about it. “Well… the first one is easy. You definitely did your thing with that.”

“It
is
the only one I promised I could do anything about,” she reminded me with a smile, and I nodded.

“That’s true. And I did like you said – didn’t stop living, having fun. Just not as conspicuous, not so much. Focused on something you and my homeboy told me – not giving the media any negativity to work with.  My injury is gonna mess up my ability to be hands on with the kids at my camp this summer, but I’ll still be there. Plus, my game performance this season. The way they talk to and about me now… it’s just different.”

Chloe smiled. “Indeed. I was very impressed with how you handled the aftermath of that interview your father gave.”

I shook my head. “It wasn’t easy.”

That shit was still vividly branded in my head. My father had chosen
Zone Report
of all places to give some bullshit interview to Cedrick Rochester. He’d taken the opportunity to talk shit about me, my past, current, and future seasons, all of which were bleak according to him. As I watched that from my bed, with Nicki tucked at my side, my friends and teammates available with a few key presses on my phone, and my mom and sister making life as comfortable as possible, it finally clicked for me.

That
was the final straw.

That motherfucker
knew
I was hurt. The whole world did. He hadn’t even been to see me, sent a card, a text, a flower, nothing, but he could go on TV to spread bullshit?

Fuck him.

The only reason I wasn’t pre-arranging an ass-whooping for as soon as my broken bone healed was that he’d kept Nicki’s name out of his mouth. Cedrick tried to take him there – pussy ass dude – but I guess he realized that was dangerous ground.

Father or not, he would have caught these hands… but I still hadn’t ruled Cedrick out.

“I can imagine it wasn’t,” Chloe mused, sympathy clouding her eyes as the server delivered our drinks. “So, I believe I can safely assume that this second item on your list is…?”

#2 – gain father’s respect.

“No longer relevant.”

Chloe nodded. “I’m certainly no behavioral expert, but I recognize toxicity when I see it. Good for you, deciding not to give in to the madness anymore.” She sat back, taking a sip from her sparkling water before she asked, “And the third?”

Nicki.

“I have to admit,” Chloe said, continuing before I responded, “that I thought you were out of your mind. There was no way that the Nicole Richardson
I
knew would be involved with someone on the team she worked for. But obviously I was wrong about that, which is a rare occurrence for me,” she winked. “Your history together was a well-kept secret, for this day and age.”

“We were low-key back then. Nobody knew my name outside of college football til I hit the NFL, and we weren’t together anymore by then. The internet wasn’t like it is now, and nobody knew to
look
for it, so… nobody really bothered us about it.”

Facebook and all that shit was still in the early stages when Nicki and I were in college – back when you had to have a college email to even use it. Our relationship was
just
before the smartphone craze exploded. Instagram didn’t even exist at the time. And, my scout from the Kings had wisely advised me to delete anything I didn’t want dug up from the past, and dragged from the ends of the internet and back.

The footprints of my relationship with Nicki was one of those things.

“Ah,” Chloe nodded. “Small blessings. I know that social media these days can be uniquely… savage. How is Nicole doing?”

I lifted my eyebrows, then let out a sigh. “She’s… managing.”

“Burying herself in work?”

“As much as she can.”

Again, Chloe nodded. “As I expected to hear. Buried in work, or buried in sugar, is usually how we cope with such things. Or both.”

“That sounds like Nicki,” I chuckled. “I’m stopping by
Ganache
to pick up pastries for her when I leave here.”

“Good. She needs a bit to let herself indulge, and then someone to kick her in the ass, and tell her to get on with it. The world will move on to something else soon enough.”

I laughed. “Note taken. I wanted to ask though – and you can send me a bill for this, whatever – you’re best of the best at this public image thing. Know how to finesse a story, all of that. Is there something you can do to… I wanna say make this shit go away, but I know that’s not really possible, but—”

“Jordan,” Chloe interrupted, “There’s
always
something I can do. How soon would you like to make it happen?”

“How soon
can
we make something happen?”

Chloe’s face spread into a wide, determined smile. “Let me make a phone call.”

“Babe, where ya at?!”

I smiled as the sound of Jordan’s voice carried down the hall, into my home office. I looked up from the paperwork on my desk as he appeared in the door, sexy as ever, even with his arm still in a sling.

“Hey,” I grinned, arranging the papers into a neat stack. “How was therapy?”

“Felt a little stronger today,” he said, ambling inside. “Rebecca says hi.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “I keep telling you, don’t get that girl’s ass whooped.”

“I’m messing with you,” he chuckled.

“Oh, I know. But still… don’t get her ass whooped.”

Jordan laughed as he came around the desk, bending for a kiss. “What are you working on?” he asked, and I looked up to meet his eyes.

“Your contract, at Eli’s insistence. I think he’s trying to make me prove I can be unbiased, but I’m not sure I can.”

Jordan cocked an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I took a deep breath, “That I want to know, on a personal level, if you’re
sure
about this before I send it back to Margo. You were very insistent on not staying if you didn’t get that ring. What changed your mind?”

We – all the ADPSs – had sent out our formal contract offers at the same time, right after the season ended. They didn’t have to be answered immediately, but we were putting them out there, to give the players consideration time. I’d even stepped outside of being Nicki –
Cole
Richardson sent Margo Jordan Johnson’s contract offer.

Thirty-five million, revised down because of his injury.

It’s the same thing I would have done with anyone else, knowing that there was no guarantee he’d be the same player after his injury. We were taking a risk on him. Jordan didn’t say anything to me about it, but Margo had shot it back, quickly.

He would remain with the Kings, but he wanted the original fifty.

I was glad to agree to it – thrilled, actually. We
wanted
him on the team. But after he’d made so much noise about not staying without a ring, I –
Nicki –
felt unsettled about his immediate acceptance, knowing most contracts weren’t signed until well into spring.

Jordan sighed, then moved back to the other side of the desk to sit down. “It wasn’t that I just changed my mind. My priorities shifted. I wanted that ring so bad because… I guess I wanted to beat my father. Prove I was just as good, possibly even better. Signing this contract is my way of showing – to myself, to Eli, to the team… to
you –
that I’m off that. This team has rocked with me since the beginning. Molded and developed me. I don’t want to jump ship. I want us to patch up the leak, and go marauding through the NFL waters. And what kind of bullshit would I be on if I left before I had the chance to play with my homeboy for a full season?”

“All salient points,” I nodded, relieved at what I hadn’t heard in his reasoning.

“And
you
,” he continued, and the air rushed out of my lungs. That was exactly what I didn’t want – but deep down, maybe
did
want – this to be about.

I shook my head. “You can’t do this for me, Jordan.”

“Says who?” he asked, challenging my words. “The contract is four years. That’s not a long time.”

“Let’s be serious, Jordan. You’ve been on this team since you were twenty-one. That’s six years. Another four years is
very
likely to carry you into the end of your career.”

“And I’d love to finish where I started, with the woman I love.”

I swallowed hard. “Jordan…”

“Nicole. It’s done. You’re not talking me out of it, or getting rid of me, whatever you’re trying to do right now.”

“I’m
not
,” I insisted. “I just… I don’t want you to regret this. If we don’t work out…”

He held up a hand, stopping me. “Don’t even speak that into the atmosphere. The contract means we’re stuck with each other for four years, without having to get married,” he laughed. “If we can’t get our shit together between now and then, it’s just not meant to be. Besides that, you owe me a baby before that contract is up anyway.”

“If you could
not
, that would be great,” I said, trying not to smile. “If you’re sure about this though, it will be on Margo’s desk for review early Monday morning.”

He nodded. “I look forward to discussing it with her. Now come on. Come chill with me.”

“I can’t. I still have work to do.”

“You can take a break,” he said, standing up, and extending his hand for mine. “Come on.”

I let out a sigh, then accepted his hand as I stood. He pulled me around the desk and the immediately tucked me under his arm, hugging me close. It had barely been three weeks since the Super Bowl, and everything that happened after, but it felt like an eternity.

He led me into my living room and plopped on the couch, motioning for me to join him. I was careful of how I positioned myself so I wouldn’t hurt him, but it sure did feel good to be enveloped in his arms.

I sighed when he turned the TV on, expecting him to turn to one of the sports networks. It was torture for both of us really, seeing everything replayed over and over, but neither of us could seem to get enough.

To my surprise, he turned to one of the entertainment news channels – my own personal torture. I rolled my eyes when Kendra Fulton’s face appeared on my screen.

“Can we watch something else? Something detailing the process from sheep to sweater or pig to bacon?
Anything
?”

Jordan laughed. “Just chill. I’m trying to see something.”

“Fine,” I muttered, grudgingly turning my eyes to the screen.

“
Since Super Bowl Sunday, the whole world has been riveted by the apparent secret romance – or something more tawdry – between star wide receiver Jordan Johnson and Kings front office executive Nicole Richardson. Nicole is the pampered daughter of NFL legend and business mogul Eli Richardson, who also happens to be the owner of the Connecticut Kings. After “The Flash” Johnson took a tackle that would later reveal to be the cause of a broken clavicle, Nicole made a huge production of getting to him – even shoving aside NFL superstar Tom Brady mid-interview. It all sounds very romantic – or scandalous, depending who you ask. Last week, someone reached out to the show, wanting to tell the full story – something the world has been digging for since that eventful Sunday. Today, I’m airing that conversation. Stay with us for the next hour as Jordan Johnson himself clears up the misinformation and tells his
own
story in our special interview: Love on the Highlight Reel.”