A Better Man(62)

As his well-­meaning brother walked away, Jordan knew the truth. He wasn't much good at anything except smack talk on the ice.

Only one thing in his life was certain; as soon as he returned the calls to his agent and coach, he'd become the guy who made promises he couldn't keep.

The deep breath Jordan took didn't do much to calm the dread tightening in his chest as he knocked on Nicole's bedroom door early Sunday morning. According to Aunt Pippy, who'd met him downstairs with a cup of coffee and a warm cinnamon roll, Nicki was still asleep. Unfortunately what needed to be said couldn't wait for her to leisurely arise.

He'd been prepared to knock several times before she'd even consider answering, but she surprised him by opening the door almost immediately.

Hair mussed and wearing long-­sleeved flannel pajamas with cats and polka dots on them, she squinted up at him from one bloodshot eye. "What do you want?" she muttered.

"We need to talk."

"About what? What did I do now?" She shifted her weight to one hip, which indicated a definite attitude was in play.

"I don't know that you did anything wrong unless you have something you want to admit."

"No," she answered suspiciously fast.

"Can I come in?"

"Whatever. Even if I tell you no you'll come in anyway." She turned and shuffled back to the bed, where she sat down, crossed her legs, and pulled a fuzzy purple blanket up over the top of her like she wanted to hide. Her blue eyes stared out at him from beneath her cocoon.

He followed her into the room and leaned his backside against her dresser. Without all the makeup and perfectly styled hair, she looked about ten years old. Which didn't help lessen his guilt for waking her early just to drop a bomb on top of her temperamental little head.

"Late night?" he asked.

"It wasn't a school night so don't get your tighty-­whities in a wad."

"That wasn't an answer."

"That's because it's none of your business. You're not the boss of me."

"You have approximately, what, five months before you turn eighteen?" He folded his arms, and without giving her a chance to respond, he continued. "Until then everything you do is my business. You heard Mom and Dad's wishes. I am the boss of you, along with Ryan, Declan, Parker, and Ethan. So humor me. In the future when I ask you a question, please respond with an appropriate answer. Okay?"

She folded her arms and jerked her chin upward just enough to deliver a silent, rebellious Screw you.



       
         
       
        

"We need to talk about-­"

"You're leaving." Her eyes narrowed and she scoffed. "I knew it."

"Nicki-­"

"Don't Nicki me like you care!" She jumped up and paced the room, throwing her hands up in a barely controlled temper tantrum. "How dare you make promises you knew you wouldn't keep. You're just like everybody else."

"I'm only leaving for a few days. I'll be back."

"Bullshit!" She grabbed the pillows from her bed and threw them at him. "Get out."

"Nicki-­"

"Get out. Get out. Get out!" Each out was accented by the hurling of whatever she could get her hands on-­books, stuffed animals, a bottle of nail polish.

Fuck.

He couldn't handle this. He didn't know what the hell he'd been thinking trying to take on Nicole and her gargantuan attitude.

He wasn't equipped for this.

Failure slapped him in the heart as he escaped before the bottle of Juicy perfume conked him on the head.

As soon as he closed the door behind him he heard her sobs.

They broke him.

Crushed him.

Made him desperate to know what was going on in her head.

Yes, she'd just lost both of her parents, so tears and sadness were to be expected. But it was the bitter anger and inability for her to be even remotely reasonable that caused him such concern. He might not know teenage girls very well, but he knew his sister's outbursts weren't normal. Something very deep was going on that for some reason she didn't want to share with anyone.

Especially him.

As her sobs continued and concern strangled him, he took two steps toward the stairs and stopped.

Fuck.

What kind of an ass was he?

If he left her like this he'd be exactly the kind of selfish bastard she accused him of being.

The wheels in his head spun, searching for a resolution. Then he turned around and, without knocking, opened her door.

Face red, blotchy, and sniffling, she looked up, obviously surprised by his return.

"I know I'm not very good at this," he admitted. "I have no experience at being a parent, a guardian, or hell, even a big brother." He crossed the room, pulled her into his arms, and hugged her tight so she couldn't squirm away. "But I love you. And it kills me to see you like this. So get some clothes together. You're going with me. Be ready in two hours. No excuses. No bullshit. Be at the door waiting or I'll come up here and haul your ass down the stairs. Got it?"