Between Two Lungs

Immediately after hanging up the phone, Jordan made a beeline for his car. His team captain, Sidney Crosby, called out his name and stopped him in his tracks.

"Staalsy, where are you going? We have practice."

Jordan groaned inwardly, but turned around to face his teammate anyway. "I've got some personal issues I need to take care of," he explained vaguely. "My brother needs my help in New York. I'll have to miss practice today, but I'll be ready for this week's game."

Sid pursed his limps together and nodded. "Alright. But be back here by tomorrow or else Dan's going to bite your head off."

Jordan nodded and rushed off, lugging his hockey equipment over his left shoulder. He made it to the parking lot, managing to avoid a crowd of fans, and loaded his things into the trunk before speeding off to the freeway.

It took over seven hours, but he finally made it to Manhattan around four in the morning. The nervousness and anxiety he was feeling deep within his core kept him from dozing off as he drummed his fingers along the steering wheel. Jordan parked his car outside of Marc's building and rushed to the front door, quickly pressing down on the corresponding intercom button and waited for his brother's response, knowing that he would still be awake.

"Yeah?"

"It's Jordan, open up."

"Uh, okay. One second."

He heard a faint buzzing sound and the door swung open. It didn't take long until Jordan found himself standing in front of Marc's apartment door. He rapped against the wood with his knuckles and heard shuffling inside. Marc opened it, looking absolutely confused as to why his younger brother was standing in the hallway.

"Come in."

Jordan walked inside as Marc closed the door behind him.

"Can I ask what you're doing here? Especially at this ungodly hour?"

Jordan shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed, looking at Marc. "Mae called me."

Marc's expression immediately darkened. "She called you? What for?"

"She told me that you broke up with her," he stated. "Because you caught her coming out of a Narcotics Anonymous meeting."

Marc rolled his eyes and went to go sit down on the couch. "It figures she would tell you first."

"You shouldn't have broken up with her because of that," Jordan continued, ignoring his brother's snide comment. "You should be supporting her. She's trying to get help, Marc. She just got her tag for being thirty days clean. You should be there with her right now, congratulating her on the fact that she's made such a huge accomplishment."

"It's not like I don't want to," Marc snapped. "It's the fact that she lied to me for all this time. She and I are supposed to be best friends. I have begged her to open up to me over the years, but she still won't let me in. It stopped being about the sex so long ago. I really do care about her. And then you walk into the picture, and suddenly she's just...different. She talks to you, Jordan. She shares her deepest, darkest secrets with you. Not me. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"If it makes a difference, she didn't tell me about the drugs voluntarily," Jordan said quietly. "I was staying at her apartment one time and I found her stash underneath her couch."

Marc looked at his brother incredulously. "And you didn't say anything to me?"

Jordan shook his head, a frown forming on his face. "It wasn't my place."

Marc let out a dry, sarcastic laugh. "Right. And as if she was ever going to tell me..."

"She would have told you when the time was right," Jordan insisted. "I'm sure she would have let you know eventually."

"You don't know her as well as you think you do," Marc scoffed. "If Mae doesn't want to tell someone something, she won't. Plain and simple. You can't blame me for being pissed, though. How am I supposed to react when my girlfriend gets all google-eyed over my little brother? Not to mention the fact that the two of you already fucked before we started going out. Which she was reluctant about in the first place."

Jordan stayed silent for a second, staring at the ground. He was trying to hide the look of guilt in his eyes, but Marc caught on.

"What's with you now?"

Jordan just kept his eyes focused on the beige carpeting. He didn't say a word.

A look of realization dawned on Marc's face. He rose to his feet. "Are you fucking kidding me." It was more of a statement than a question.

Jordan looked up at his brother, seeing the rage in his eyes. "Marc, I--"

"I want you to tell it to me straight or I won't believe you," he said flatly. "I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me what went on with the two of you behind my back."

Jordan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. Finally, he blurted out, "Mae and I had sex the night before she took the Greyhound back to Manhattan."

Marc pursed his lips together, shaking his head from side to side. "You know, I'd expect this from a friend, or maybe even one of my teammates, but never my own brother," he said. "How could you do that to me, Jordan? And in our own fucking house while I was sleeping down the hall?"

"Marc, calm down--"

"Shut the fuck up!" he roared. "You show up at my apartment to try and scold me about dumping Mae because she's nothing but a liar, and then you tell me that you two fucked right underneath my own nose and expect me to be okay with it? Fuck you!"

"But Marc, I--"

"I told you to shut up," Marc growled. "Shut up and get out of my apartment."

Jordan knew not to object when Marc was so angry. He'd learned from past experiences. He just sighed quietly and ran a hand through his hair before shuffling out of the apartment and closing the door shut behind him.

He trudged down the stairs and out the building's front door to his car. He got in and turned it on, letting the engine idle for a few seconds. Jordan checked the clock--it was a quarter to five. Taking out his cell phone, he dialed Mae's number and waited.

"Hello?"

"Surprise," he said meekly. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I couldn't sleep," she responded. "Are you in the city right now?"

He sighed. "Yeah. I have to tell you something. Can I come over?"

"Of course," she said. "I'll leave the front door unlocked for you."

"Thanks. I'll be over in ten."

Jordan put his phone away and started to drive out of the apartment building's parking lot. He knew that Marc would forgive him eventually. It was in his nature, and he couldn't stay mad at any of his siblings for very long. It was Mae that he was worried about.

He got to her building, the front door unlocked as expected. He climbed up the two floors to her apartment and slid the door open. Mae was busy painting a close-up portrait of who he had assumed to be Gabriel as he walked inside.

"Hi," she smiled weakly, her eyes glazed over with fatigue. "I'm guessing you went and talked to Marc."

"Yeah," he confirmed, sitting down on the couch. "He knows now."

Mae bit her lip. "You mean about us?"

"Yeah," he repeated, rubbing his tired eyes. "He knows." Jordan leaned his elbows against his knees, looking over at the petite girl holding a paint palette and brush in her hands. "How much did you tell Marc about your past?"

Mae frowned. "He knows that my parents live in Ohio. He thinks I'm an only child. That's about it."

"You never mentioned the drugs to him?"

Mae shook her head. "Not once."

"Can I ask why?"

She put her paintbrush and palette down, joining Jordan on the couch. Looking him in the eyes, she replied, "I couldn't."

Jordan searched her eyes for an answer. "Why not?"

"Marc was one of the first friends I had when I moved here," she told him. "He's such a good person, Jordan. He had an image of me painted in his mind, a quirky artist who lives in a run down old apartment building in Alphabet City. A weird, but nice girl. I didn't want to ruin that for him."

"I know that you were trying to protect him by keeping it a secret," Jordan said. "But he's more hurt by the lies than anything else."

"I know," Mae mumbled, pulling the orange tag out of her pocket and skimming her fingers over the lettering. "And I'll find a time to tell him the truth. And to apologize."

Jordan pulled her towards him, her head resting against the crook of his neck as he stroked her hair gently. "When will that be?"

"I don't know yet," she replied honestly. "I'm only on step five."