Living With Regret (30 page)

I spoke with Jackie, the human resource specialist that hired me at headquarters, and quickly explained what happened. I felt the dread seep in as I told another person in my life that I’m a drug addict. With Jackie, however, I left Drake out of the story. As of now, his name hasn’t come up in any of the online articles, and no matter how badly I want to redeem his death, now is not the time.

Without a comment from me, the media is spinning a story that makes it sound like I’m a regular drug user that somehow never got caught while playing professional football, and my drug problem is the real reason I retired. This story on the heels of Carrie trying to pin her pregnancy on me, and my announcement to retire, are not painting me in a very good light. I felt the urge to be sick set in when I saw a report wondering if the CEO of Natural Cosmetics is also an addict.

Last weekend was the first weekend of playoffs and Jackie said after a full investigation, and if my story checks out, then my job should be safe, but right now, everyone is more worried about ensuring the playoffs happen without any scandals.

The only statement the NFL plans to make at the moment where I’m concerned is to announce that I was regularly tested and every test came back clean. The NFL does not tolerate drug use of any kind and they believe that any or all drugs taken by me didn’t happen while I was a professional player.

All of this sounds promising long-term. I just need to keep to myself until this blows over.

I’m brought out of my thoughts when I hear a knock on my door. Thank God for a doorman, otherwise I would be worried about it being a pap looking for their next big break.

When I look through the peephole, I see Jordan turning away and walking towards her own door, which has me opening mine.

“Hey.”

She continues to unlock her door then she sits her purse inside and turns back to me with a worried look on her face. “Are you okay? I tried calling you but you wouldn’t answer and I heard what they are . . .”

She’s rambling and I feel like an ass that I couldn’t remember her number by heart so I could have called her from Jake’s phone. “Yes, I was pissed off earlier and my phone took the brunt of the anger.”

“Oh. Um, do you want to come in and talk?” I want to go in and make her feel better but I dread talking about my day, but it needs to happen. Jordan has a right to know what’s going on.

“Sure.”

The second I pass through Jordan’s door, I feel at home. Her apartment isn’t any nicer than mine, but this is where my heart belongs.

“Well?” she says, waiting on me to tell her something.

I swallow loudly. “With Carrie trying to pin her pregnancy on me and my retirement, I’ve been in the news a lot. A reporter thought he would dig a little deeper to see if he could find any skeletons to add to the gossip rags. Somehow, he found a transaction for the payment my father made to River Side that listed me as the patient. The reporter ran with it. He didn’t have any idea why I was there but he knew enough and ran the article implying I’m an addict. Since then, every fucking reporter wants an interview.”

Worry takes over her expression. “I thought patient information was supposed to be protected.” I can see the pain in her eyes, pain for me, and pain for what I’m going through.

“River Side announced a few hours ago that someone breached their security. They will not comment whether I was or was not a patient of theirs, but they’re looking to prosecute anyone that was involved with hacking into their system.”

“Oh, good. No one knows about the other thing, about your . . .”

She’s asking about the fact that I killed my best friend almost four months before I went to rehab. Seeing as my medical records didn’t include the drugs that I know I had in my system at the time, my accident wouldn’t look like a real story unless I admit to what really happened that day. “No. Nothing about the accident has been brought up, and I doubt it will.”

The relief in her eyes is instant. “Thank goodness. That’s the last thing you need. When do you plan to make an announcement about what really happened?”

“I don’t.” The relief I saw in her eyes starts to melt away.

“You don’t? Why on earth not? The press is making it sound like you
have
a problem. That you’ve been using drugs for years and somehow managed to hide it.”

“I don’t care what other people think about me. I know that I played my ass off every time I stepped out on a field. The NFL doesn’t want me to comment right now because they want to keep people’s focus on the playoffs, where it should be, and not on a retired player. The people that mean the most to me know what actually happened so fuck everyone else.”

Jordan’s hands come up and she starts rubbing her temples. “Shit.”

Now it’s my turn to look confused. “What’s wrong?”

“They called a board meeting today at Natural Cosmetics. The members are older than dirt and most of them want me to release a statement that I’m not in a relationship of any kind with you. That we went to the gala last month as friends. Apparently, it looks bad when a twenty-nine year old CEO is dating a known drug addict.” She practically laughs off her statement as I feel my world go dark.

They called a board meeting at her company today because of me. Because. Of. Me. I would gladly run to any reporter and start spilling my story regardless of how that would affect my new job, but there will always be people that won’t believe me. Once news—especially bad news—surfaces, it’s always there, floating in the back of people’s minds, even if it isn’t true. But in my case, it is. If we stay together, she’ll always have people in her life judging her. Judging her for my actions. Holy shit. My heart painfully drops to my stomach.

I take a deep breath when I realize Jordan is talking to me and I haven’t heard a word she’s said. “ ...not going to worry about it.”

How the fuck can I let this blow back on her? Jordan is such an incredible person. I can’t ...I won’t let this affect her job or her life. When people see us together, they’ll wonder about her. They’ll make assumptions about her based on the shit I’ve done and I can’t let that happen. As she continues to talk, I’m not able to hear a word because all I can hear is my own heartbeat. I can feel the acid turning in my stomach at what I know I have to do, for her.

“I think they’re right.” I clear my throat. “If we’re together, people will always think poorly of you thanks to my reckless behavior. If you aren’t with me, then you’ll be fine. You’re a good person, everyone knows that.”

Her eyes thin as her nose scrunches up. “But—”

“No,” I quickly cut her off as my heart continues to pound in my chest.

“No buts,” I add before taking a deep breath. “When shit like this comes out, it doesn’t even matter if it’s true or not, it follows a person. Years later, people will look at me and wonder if I’m using and that sucks ,but you know what? It’s on me. I fucked up, I do have an addiction, and that addiction could bring me down at any moment. You don’t deserve to get caught up in that shit.” I run my hands through my hair before looking back at her pained face.

“Fuck, Jordan, you could lose your job, a job that you love because of me. I’m sorry ...I can’t let that happen. No, I won’t let that happen.” My voice is firm as I square my shoulders, waiting for her to reply.

Her eyes are glassed over, tears ready to spill at any moment. “You’re doing it again,” she says as her voice cracks.

“Doing what?” I growl back, rubbing my hands over my face, beyond frustrated with myself. I look back at Jordan as she blinks several times before softly speaking. “Making decisions—important decisions—for me. Deciding what’s best for me without asking me what I want.”

God, I fucking hate looking at her like this: in pain and knowing I’m once again the reason for it.

“I won’t let my problems blow back on you. I love you too much to do that.”

Something changes in Jordan. She straightens her back, brushes the tear that fell, and the light I always see in her beautiful blue eyes dims. “Get out.” Her tone is harsh but her voice was soft.

“What?”

“Decision made. Now get the fuck out of my apartment.” I’m looking at the woman I love, but she doesn’t seem like the Jordan I know and it’s all my fault.

“I’ll call you in a few days and—”

“No!” she screams. “There’s no need to call me, we’re done. Now, please get out of my fucking apartment,” she says before turning away from me.

I know what I said, but I’m feeling exactly the way I did ten years ago. I allowed the words to come out of my mouth but that doesn’t mean I really wanted them to come true, and just like last time, once I’ve said them, I start freaking out.

I’ll just give her some time to cool down. Maybe then she’ll see how this is what’s best for her and her career. Instead of saying another word, I quietly walk to her door and leave.

Once I get back into my apartment, I can already feel it. Dread seeps into my system, dread of living a meaningless and lonely life without the only woman I’ve ever loved.

I’ve been in my apartment for almost an hour now. I’ve already been sick twice. I want to run back over to Jordan’s and beg her to forgive me, to tell her I didn’t mean a word I said, but then I remember that I did mean it—at least, the part about not allowing my fuck ups to blow back on her.

By sticking with me, a drug addict, Jordan could end up losing a lot in her life, including a job she’s told me before that she loves.
Why am I such a fuck up?
I keep going back to that day in the park when I allowed her to walk out of my life, wondering how different everything could be right now. When I think about it, I picture a life I’ve always wanted, with Jordan by my side, with a family of our own. And for a short period of time, I actually thought I could make that happen.

I’m going back and forth in my head about going back over there to make sure she’s okay when I hear someone knocking, but the sound didn’t come from my door. When I look out the peephole, I see Doug Taylor standing outside Jordan’s door. After a few more moments, he uses a key, unlocks the door, and goes in.

A few minutes later, Doug is at my door. Shit. He’s probably here to kick my ass for once again breaking his daughter’s heart. I open the door and brace for his anger.

“Hey, Chase, is Jordan over here? She wasn’t in her apartment and she knew I was coming so I figured she must have wandered over here.”

“No, she isn’t here. She was at her place . . .” I glance over at the clock and see it’s been over two hours. “She was home a few hours ago.”

A look of concern comes over Doug’s face. “Did she tell you where she was going?” Instead of answering, I shake my head no. “What’s going on, Chase?”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Maybe you should ask your daughter.”

“I would if she had taken her damn phone with her, so instead I’m asking you. I talked to Jordan less than four hours ago, and she not only knew I was coming up to stay with her, but she told me she would be home when I got here. You’re her boyfriend and live right next to her, so I’m asking you. What. Is. Going. On.”

Oh, fuck me. Doug Taylor might be a retired military officer, but he can still do scary quite well, even to an ex-football player.

“We aren’t together anymore, Mr. Taylor. I didn’t know she was leaving, but if I had to guess, she’s probably with her friend Lacey.”

Without taking his eyes off of me, he grabs his phone and starts calling someone. “Lace, is Jordan with you?” More anger flashes across his face before he adds, “Okay. Call me if you hear from her. She’s not in her apartment but her phone is so I have no way of calling her.”

Doug’s body is tense and he looks at me like he wants to rip my head off. “You want to tell me why you aren’t together anymore, because when I spoke with Jordan a few hours ago she failed to mention that. If anything she told me everything was fine, that she was going to head home to check on you. And you know what, Chase?” I swallow and shake my head as I take a step away from him. “I know my daughter. I know her well and I know when she’s lying to me. And ...she ...was ...not ...lying. So tell me, why was everything fine a few hours ago and now no one knows where she’s at?” Doug’s teeth are gritted together as his eyes search mine for answers. Answers that I’m a little nervous to give him.

“Natural Cosmetics called a board meeting to talk to her about her relationship with me, so I gave her an out. I can’t be the reason she loses the job she loves.”

Doug’s eyebrows lift while he’s processing my comment. “Wait. You gave her an out or you broke up with her?”

I’m trying to decide how to answer when Doug cuts me off. “You son-of-a-bitch. You did it again.” Doug’s words echo my earlier thoughts. “Did Jordan ever tell you why she loves her job?” My eyes flare from hearing his question.

“No,” I barely mumble out my answer before he starts up again.

“After you broke up with her, Jordan was a mess. She tried to act brave but we knew it was an act. She kept waiting for you to call her and tell her that you had made a mistake, but that never happened. Like you, she lost her way, she just didn’t turn to drugs. But that didn’t mean she was living her life the way a parent wants for their child. She wandered from one empty relationship to another until she eventually became a different person.” My throat tightens at the idea of Jordan with random men.