Scandalous/ A Jordan Knight FanFic (18+)✔️

03

Jordan

"That should be everything," one of the movers says to me, handing me a piece of paper that shows the inventory of what they've packed up from our place.

Evelyn and I stand in the lobby of our building, watching one of the guys pull a dolly from the freight elevator and load a set of boxes into an eighteen-wheeler. Once he's outside, I check the list. Hundreds of items are on the sheet—each numbered, categorized by room.

The only things I have left of my career are boxes labeled eighty-nine through one hundred two. They hold my awards, highlight clips, the last jersey and helmet I wore during the game against Calgary. The same ones I was in when I had my career-ending injury. I tried to throw the jersey and helmet away, but Evelyn stuck them back in before the boxes were sealed and numbered.

"We'll see you in Florida," the same guy says to us. He waits for a nod before he walks out.

Then, my wife turns toward me and wraps her arms around my waist. "Are you ready to do this?"

Ready to give up hockey and leave Boston forever?

Nah, I'm not fucking ready. Not even close.

I'm only twenty-eight. It wasn't supposed to end this soon. It shouldn't be over because of an injury. It should be over because I was ready to give it up. But I'm not. I have so much fight left in me.

Shit, I want to fight.

I want to walk into TD Garden, lace up my skates, and hear the fans scream when I step onto the ice. I want to feel the sweat in my gloves and the stick between the thick leather and listen to the sound of the puck slapping against the toe.

But I can't have any of that.

So, I have to get the hell out of here.

"Yeah," I say, "let's go."

Evelyn leads me to the front of the building where a car is waiting to take us to the airport. She steps out first, and I follow behind her. Once the glass door shuts, the crowds on both sides of us close in.

"What the—"

It takes a few seconds before I realize the faces staring back are ones I recognize. It's my team. They're holding out their fists, waiting for me to pound them, just like we do on our way through the tunnel as we head toward the ice.

I went to practice the day after I talked to my agent and told the team I wasn't returning. And, now, they're here to send me off.

My final walk through the tunnel.

The last time I'll ever be a part of a team.

I whisper the name of each player as I pass him, and when I reach Viktor, he pulls me in for a hug.

"I'll be down to visit as soon as we hit the off-season," he says.

"I know."

"You'd better have a hell of a tan and a wicked golf game by then."

"I hate golf."

"Learn to like it because I'm going to challenge the hell out of your handicap."

I say nothing.

I can't.

"You're going to knock her up and take your son to daycare and coach little league. You're going to be all right."

I nod, not wanting any of the things he mentioned, still unable to say a word.

He slaps me on the back, we part, and I climb into the car. Nicole turns toward me and squeezes my leg. "In six hours, I'm going to be in a bikini, walking through the sand and straight into the water. No more winter coats, baby. No more snow."