Read Jordan (Season Two: The Ninth Inning #5) for Free Online

longest day I’ve had in a while at the salon. Skye and I both had bridal parties booked and then several teenage girls walked in, handing me a picture of a celebrity and wanting to look like her. I had the urge to tell them I didn’t have a magic wand. Instead, I cut their hair the best I could to match the photo, but I know it won’t look the same in the morning for them.
    All I want to do is go home and rest. I groan as I reach the back office, remembering my parents are still at my apartment. My back is sore from sleeping on the couch. I can’t ask them to go to a hotel, and they still haven’t told me when they’re leaving. I’m not rushing them out, but I want to sleep in my own bed.
    Once I finish the books, I lock everything and head home. When I reach my car, I see something on the windshield. A ticket? How did I get a ticket and what’s that with it? Once I can get a closer look, there is a gardenia, my favorite flower, with a letter attach to it.
    “Jordan,” I sigh out loud. I don’t even have to look at the letter to know it’s from him. When we dated and all throughout our marriage, Jordan constantly left notes and wrote me letters. He would even mail me postcards while he was on the road with the team. He could always express his feelings better on paper.
    I don’t read the letter. I just throw it into passenger seat, along with my purse and bag. I can’t deal with him right now. I have enough on my plate. Maybe I should call the lawyer again and see if he can rush the paperwork. Jordan is holding on for no reason. I’m not going back to him or our marriage.
    I try not to think about it as I drive home. I crank up the radio, hoping the songs drown my thoughts for a bit. By the time I reach the apartment, I’m wondering if I should read the letter or throw it away.
    When I unlock the door, I make up my mind. I’m not going to read it. I’ll throw it out.
    “Ouch.” I trip over a luggage bag sitting near the door. “Mom! Dad!”
    “What are you yelling for?” Dad asks as he comes out of the bedroom, rolling more luggage behind him.
    Are they leaving?
    “What’s happening here?” I point to the bags.
    “Well…” Dad looks over his shoulder to Mom, who is coming out of the bathroom with her makeup bag.
    “We’re staying with Jordan for a while,” Mom informs me.
    “Wait, what? You’re staying at Jordan’s house?” I must have heard her incorrectly.
    “Jordan invited us to stay with him for a few days. This way, you can get a break from us, and the boys can work on the car.” Mom quickly hugs me and then Dad does too.
    “Oh, hey,” Dad smiles. “Jordan got us tickets to the game tomorrow night. Why don’t you come and hang out with us?”
    My head’s still spinning about them leaving. “I’ll think about it,” I say, even though I know I’m not going.
    And just like that they’re gone.
    “What the hell?” I ask the now empty studio apartment. Even though I wanted some space, I’m a little sad they just left without really talking to me. I mean, they don’t have to tell me every single detail, but a heads up would have been nice.
    I toss everything down onto my coffee table and go into the kitchen to pour myself some wine. After my first sip, I hear my mother in my head, asking if I’ve eaten. She kept hounding me every chance she got, telling me to eat something instead of drinking.
    I sit the glass on the counter. I haven’t eaten today and I should grab something. I grab my purse and rifle through until I find my phone; the letter from Jordan falls onto the floor. I pick it up and inspect my name written on the outside of the envelope. His handwriting looks like chicken scratch, but I’m able to read it with ease.
    “Damn.” My girly side wants to know what he said, and the adult side of me says to leave it alone. I stare at it for another second before ripping it open and reading. I can’t stop the tears at his words. “Damn,” I cuss as I read the letter