She heard his voice from the living room, a shiver going down her spine. Even without seeing him, she could tell he wasn't in a good mood.
"Hey," she replied, coming out of the bathroom to see Jordan standing in her apartment. He was wearing his Pirates track pants with a white t-shirt and trademark sheepskin coat. He looked like he had about as much sleep as she did the past three days, which wasn't saying much.
Then she noticed his eye. It wasn't swollen but was still black and blue from the hit he took from Declan. Above it was a white butterfly bandage protecting the cut he got from the fight. She gave him a weak smile and walked over to him, reaching out to touch his face in the hopes that it would soothe away the pain. But Jordan winced as her hand came close and quickly pulled away. He pushed past her into the living room, his arms crossing in front of him to mirror the anger on his face.
"So," he said curtly.
"So."
"You want to tell me about Declan Reed."
Charlotte shoved her hands into the pockets of the jeans she had slept in. "Not particularly."
"That wasn't a question, Charlotte."
She looked up to see him staring at her, willing her to tell him what happened.
"I dated Declan two years ago when he was playing in New York. I was in love with him." She took a deep breath remembering Declan's smug grin when she caught him with that other woman. "Then he cheated on me. Or really, I finally caught him cheating on me."
Jordan's face was starting to turn red. "You should've told me," he said bitterly.
"Yeah, I should've told you, but that relationship was two years ago, Jordan."
He scoffed and stared at her. "Really? Because it didn't seem that long ago when that jackass punched me."
"I didn't think he would do that," she said quietly.
"You didn't think the biggest pest in the league would take something that's important to me and shove it in my face in the worst way possible for an entire game?"
Charlotte's face softened as she looked back at Jordan. "I'm important to you?" she asked.
He took a deep breath, dropping himself on the sofa with his head in his hands and his fingers threaded through his hair. It felt like a lifetime to her before he finally looked up again.
"I don't know how important you are now, Charlotte. I truly honestly am not sure."
Her frustration, desperation and heartbreak at seeing him like this began to fester inside her and turn to anger. "You're not sure now? Why aren't you sure now?"
"Because you weren't honest with me."
Now it was Charlotte's turn to sit down, trying hard to process what she was hearing. "Not honest with you? Just because I didn't tell you about my past doesn't mean I wasn't honest with you."
"Yes, it does! I mean, seriously, did you ever think that maybe you should tell me about your relationship with him?"
She rubbed her hands on her jeans, trying to stall to get her thoughts together. "Yes, I thought about it. I really struggled with trying to decide if I should tell you and how I should tell you. And I was going to tell you, I really was."
"Oh yeah?" he asked incredulously. "When, Charlotte? Before or after I got in a fight in front of 20,000 people? Before or after he went to the press and called the woman I was dating his cold leftovers?"
"Was dating?"
That was enough. Charlotte stood up and glared down at him.
"First of all, I'm no one's cold leftovers. I am me. And second of all, where the hell do you get off sitting on some high horse of yours? Yes, I dated men before you and yes, one in particular hurt me so bad that I still doubt myself today. But you dated people before me, and according to pretty much every woman in Detroit, there weremanyof them before me. But have I asked you to give me details about them? To tell me about why your relationships with them failed?"
Jordan quickly stood up to match her stance. "None of them are women you ever have to meet! None of them are women who are going to punch you at the next charity ball or celebrity whatever here."
"Is that all I am to you? Someone who goes to charity balls and celebrity whatevers in Detroit?"
He sneered at her. "I saw how people reacted to you in New York while we were at dinner. You loved the attention, didn't you? You loved beingtheCharlotte Stone in New York. The woman who got her name on the front page of theNew York Postand loved it no matter how it got there."
