Status: On Hiatus

I'll Be Right Beside You

Fifty Seven

“Hello? I’m back,” I called out as I staggered in, the five bags of groceries precariously split between my hands as I flung my keys in the general direction of the counter.

“Here, I’ll help,” before I could compute what had been said Jordan was taking bags from me and setting them on the counter. Even with the slight limp he had right now – because he refused to use crutches – he moved quickly.

“O-oh, thanks,” I mumbled, before seeing Rosa get up from the living room.

“So, how’d it go?” she asked, and I shrugged.

“Ran into Vero,” I answered, and Jordan nodded. I assumed he must have remembered who Vero was and it made sense to him that going to do a few things could turn into an all-afternoon affair where she was involved. I didn’t want him to know that I was having trouble handling him being here, because I knew already that he felt like he was burdening me with staying here.

“You all right?” she asked as she gave me a quick hug.

“Yeah, you?” I asked back, and she let out a dry laugh.

“We’re both still alive – I count that as a success,” she dryly replied, and I couldn’t help but laugh as I started putting groceries away. Jordan had already started, going through the bags for things that would go in the fridge, because then he would know where they went.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” I asked, but Rosa shook her head.

“No, I’ve got to do some prep for work tomorrow, and I’m going to watch the game,” she replied. I nodded, knowing that we would do anything but that – I struggled watching the guys play on TV because I hated not being there with them, and I wasn’t sure what Jordan’s take would be. Minutes later Rosa left, and I was left in a very quiet apartment with Jordan.

“So, uh, you and Vero had a good time then?” he stumbled over the words as he tried to make conversation.

“Y-yeah, we ended up doing some shopping and going for coffee,” I answered, remembering I’d left the shopping bags in my car, choosing instead to bring in the groceries and not wanting to make a second trip. They’d be fine in the trunk until tomorrow.

“That’s cool,” he nodded, before awkward silence settled in again. I looked to the clock, seeing the time and deciding to start making some pasta for supper.

“Well, I’m gonna start supper – you can do whatever you want really, just make yourself at home,” I gestured, but Jordan didn’t leave the kitchen.

“Um, do you want any help?” he asked, and after a moment of floundering for a response I shrugged, before I started setting out the can of spaghetti sauce and the vegetables and meat for the sauce. As if he’d never left he moved to the drawer and got out the can opener and began opening it while I started seasoning the hamburger. It hit me like a brick wall how comfortable and familiar it was to do something as simple as make dinner with him, and I sniffed consistently trying to keep my tears in check and at bay. Before long the aroma of Italian-style spaghetti had filled the apartment, and Jordan’s stomach rumbled loudly, much to his embarrassment. His cheeks turned pink, and even his ears began to turn a soft shade. I’d never seen him blush so completely before, it reminded me a lot of when Jared got embarrassed.

“You can find something to snack on until supper’s ready,” I offered, gesturing to the rest of the kitchen. Jordan shyly went searching for a glass before filling it with water and downing it in about a second flat. I offered for him to find something a little more substantial, but he refused, insisting that he’d be fine now until supper.

We ate in front of the TV catching up on the highlights from the games that had been on yesterday. Jordan’s eyes never stopped moving, going over all of the names and stats because he felt like he was missing something. When Sportscenter ended we were flicking through channels to find something to watch, when we came across the Penguins game.

“Can we watch it?” Jordan quietly asked. He would have never asked to do that before – he struggled with watching our team play without us as much as I did.

“Sure,” I clicked on it, in time to catch the puck drop. Jordan curled up on the chair, slowly and awkwardly bringing his feet up underneath him, the movement causing him some obvious pain. His eyes were absolutely glued to the screen, not acknowledging his discomfort, and instead of watching the game I mostly kept my eyes on him. I had no clue how he was handling all of this so well.

“That’s crazy… I can’t believe I play in the NHL…” he whispered, not looking away.

“You do, and you’re good at it too,” I told him with a smile. He turned to look at me, his big blue eyes wide and unassuming.

“Really?”

“Of course Jord, you wouldn’t be here otherwise,” I insisted, but he dropped his head.

“I was never as good as Eric, or Marc… I just don’t see how I’m good enough to be here now,” he quietly admitted, breaking my heart in two.

“Come here,” I got the words out before I could second-guess myself. Jordan was dead still for a second, before he made his way to the couch. He sat down with enough distance to be comfortable, before I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him close. He melted into me, all of his muscles relaxing as he leaned his head on my shoulder and let me rub his back.

“You’re good enough Jordan, there’s a reason the team’s been trying to nail you with that big ten year deal,” I whispered, and his eyes widened in shock.

“What?”

“Yeah, a ten year, sixty million dollar deal,”

“Why haven’t I taken it?” he asked, and I just shrugged. We hadn’t really talked about it – for obvious reasons.

“I couldn’t tell you, but I know you have your reasons for mulling it over Jord. Don’t rush anything right now until you’ve got all this,” I tapped the top of his head for good measure, making him laugh. “Figured out.”

“If you say so Cam,” he nodded, before he laid down, his head on my lap. I kept a hand in his hair, the other on his side as he watched the game. The kick about not being good enough was a familiar one for him, and I didn’t want him thinking about it right now because he stressed the hell out of himself.

As the final buzzer went for the end of the third I looked down to find Jordan asleep.

“Jord, come on, let’s get you to bed,” I whispered, and he half woke up. Bleary eyed and stumbling I got him to his bed, and helped him crawl in. After I pulled the covers up around him he took hold of my hand.

“Thanks Cam,” he mumbled, his eyes closed and his face buried in his pillow, before he drifted off again. I gave his hand a quick squeeze before gently pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Night Jordan,”