Page 62 of A Million Times, Yes

I stared at Jordan’s message as I walked through my apartment, finishing the piece of toast I’d made a few minutes ago. This time yesterday morning, I’d confronted him, and by the afternoon, after he’d sent a surprising amount of texts, I’d told him I needed time. But that hadn’t stopped him from sending me another message, or the one this morning.

The man didn’t give up.

Neither did I.

I’d spent half the night combing through articles of him on the internet, sleep the furthest thing from my mind. When I typed in his name, there were over sixty-eight pages of results on Google, a heavy mix of his hockey career, which he’d retired from two years ago, and the time he’d spent working for his father.

There were also images—not any that he’d posted. His social media was bland at best, probably managed by someone at his office. He didn’t respond to comments, tags went unshared and unliked. But the press loved to post pictures of him, and I toggled between social media and online resources to view them.

Jordan in his hockey uniform.

Jordan on the beach with a mystery woman.

Jordan walking out of a bar in Manhattan.

There was no shortage of shots, and they proved just the kind of life this man lived. One that had no boundaries. That was full of travel and adventure and a multitude of beautiful women.

But what made this even more interesting was that, during my research, I couldn’t find a single article or mention of a relationship. He was never pictured with the same woman twice. And whenever any of the women he’d been photographed with were asked if she was dating Jordan, she would deny it, and they would never be seen together again.

Which meant everything he’d told me—that he offered me more than anyone else—was true.

But what made me different?

What made him want to change his ways?

Why me?

A mile into my run, and I still didn’t have those answers. I couldn’t make sense of them. But what was strange was that I’d gone a different route this morning so I wouldn’t run into him, and I found myself back in my old neighborhood, in front of one of the first apartment buildings my mom and I had ever called home. We were evicted from most of the places we’d lived due to being behind on rent and Mom not being able to catch up.

Not this one.

This was where we’d lived the longest, and we’d been kicked out because they were converting the building into luxury condos. We weren’t given that much time to vacate, and we couldn’t afford a moving company or a storage unit. So we took what we could fit in our suitcases and backpacks and left the rest of our belongings behind, and we moved into a hotel that allowed weekly rentals.

I’d never felt more at home than in that apartment.

I’d never felt as uneasy and unrested as I did in that hotel.

So many memories.

Good ones too.

Just as I was about to start my run again, I noticed that the building next door was in the middle of a renovation, and it looked vacant. It had been a hotel when I lived beside it. Not a nice one, yet Mom still couldn’t afford to move us in there when we had to leave the apartment.

The hotel branding was now gone, the exterior getting completely remodeled, and there was a sign by the entrance.

Luxury Condos Coming Soon!

Mid-$2M Range

Project by: Worthington Enterprises

A vibration came through my watch, and I looked at the screen.

Jordan:I hate running without you.

My God.

Even when I wanted a break, I couldn’t have one.