Free Love on the Highlight Reel (Connecticut Kings Book 2) by Christina C Jones Page A

have the resources you need.”
    Jordan pushed out a harsh breath, shaking his head. “Cin is my goddamned friend. I can’t have breakfast with my friend?”
    “Most men I know don’t regularly go see their “friends” perform naked, or pay their “friends” to grind in their laps.”
    “And that doesn’t have shit to do with me. Is Cin fine as hell? Yeah. Do I enjoy watching her dance? Hell yeah. But I’m not fucking her, and I’ve never tried to fuck her. She’s there doing a goddamned job, and I respect that, because like I said – she’s a friend.”
    I lifted an eyebrow. “You’re serious right now?”
    He frowned. “Yeah, I am. She doesn’t judge, she gives great advice, and here’s a novel concept for you Nicki – she actually listens, unlike whatever you call yourself doing right now. If this was supposed to cheer me up… this ain’t it.”
    “I didn’t come to cheer you up, I came to figure out what the hell was wrong with you, because I know something is.”
    “And what are you gonna do with that information once you have it? Organize it for me?”
    I narrowed my eyes. “Okay, you don’t have to be an asshole.”
    “I’m not trying to be an asshole, I’m trying to be real. You said you aren’t trying to cheer me up, so I’m confused about why you want to know? For the team’s interest? Is that it? Well, fine – I’m not suicidal, and I plan to show up at practice next week. I have an appointment set with the PR chick, and I’m meeting with the potential agent your assistant set me up with. There you go. Your ass is covered.”
    “I’m not here about covering my ass,” I hissed, my fingers tightening around the neck of the bottle. My cheeks were hot, and tears of frustration pricked my eyes, but I swallowed them. “I… I’m here because I care about your foolish ass wellbeing.”
    He snorted. “So is this business, or is it personal?”
    I bit down on my lip. In that moment, I had no idea how to answer the question. The business obligation was filled the moment I saw him alive and well, and reinforced by his assurance that he was coming to practice, and hiring new people for his team. I didn’t need to know anything else. I could leave, because I’d done my part. But the thought of leaving without knowing what was happening in his head… it felt wrong.
    “Personal.”
    He hadn’t expected that, and I could tell. His eyes went wide, and he sat, staring at me like he didn’t know what to say. And hell, neither did I.
    It would have been so much easier to lie. I could have just said it was business, so he could show me to the door, and we could both go on with our nights. Instead, I’d made it complicated.
    “The pressure…” Jordan said, after a long moment of silence had passed between us. “It’s… like you wouldn’t believe. From all sides. No relief. I hit up Arch & Point , watch some ass, talk to Cin, because it helps me decompress. I don’t really kick it too close with many people, to have folks to talk to like that. Jess is too young to understand that kind of responsibility. Trent… man, what kind of asshole would I be, complaining about the game when  all he wanted to do was play, and couldn’t? And my father… well, you already know about that.”
    I nodded, suddenly feeling like shit. It was my job to help my players succeed, but the pressure Jordan was talking about… I’d definitely added to that. And “success” wasn’t what I saw in front of me. On the field, sure. But right now? Jordan just seemed tired.
    “Yeah, we won tonight,” he continued, his thumb playing over the open neck of his beer. “But Mayfair is out, possibly for the season, and that’s sobering. Am I happy to get Trent back in a starting position? Hell yeah. But one of my teammates is still down. And then that bullshit interview my dad gave, and then Kendra Fulton with further bullshit after… I just wasn’t in the mood to celebrate,” he shrugged, then chugged