Broken and Screwed 2

I swallowed over a knot in my throat. It hurt. It hurt so f**king much.

He continued, so soft and gentle, “And if you think Jesse wanted anything to do with her, you’re completely wrong. The dude’s barely looked at another girl since you took up your walking papers and marched last November.”

Relief hit me like a ton of bricks. I sat there, stunned, with my head down. It felt good to hear that. It felt really good to hear that, but he never returned my calls. Why hadn’t he if he cared that much?

“Look.” Cord sighed and stood from the table. He tossed the rest of his wine in the sink, then did the same with mine. “Have you moved into the dorms yet?”

I shook my head.

“And I bet you have a whole car loaded to the top with stuff, huh?”

I nodded this time.

“All right. Mind’s made up. Come on.”

He bent to slip on his shoes, pulled a Grant West University shirt on, and grabbed his keys. He dangled them at me from the door. “You coming or not?”

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll help you move in.”

“You will?” This visit had gone in a different direction than what I intended. “I didn’t come here for that.”

He shrugged, grinning at me. “I know, but Jesse would want me to do this. He’d do it, if he were here.”

I stood and frowned. “Yeah, where is he?”

Barking out a laugh, he shook his head. “Nope. Not going to touch that one.”

Touch that one? I was even more confused as he put his hand between my shoulder blades and urged me out of the house. Following behind me, he locked the door and then asked, “What dorm are you in?”

“Frasier Hall.”

A glimmer of a frown appeared but was gone in a second. “What floor?”

“Sixth.”

His eyebrows shot up now.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why?”

Jerking a shoulder up, he shrugged but turned for his car. “Nothing. I’ll follow you?”

“Suurree…” Something was up. That was obvious, but when Cord climbed into his Jaguar, I shook my head. I’d need to admit defeat on this one.

“Let’s go, Connors.” He reversed out of the driveway. Pounding the top of his car, he gestured for me to hurry up. His car was idling in the road as he waited so I got into my car and pulled out. He followed behind and when we pulled up to the back door of my new dorm, the reaction to his Jaguar was comical.

There were girls everywhere, along with their parents, little siblings, and friends galore. Most of the dads seemed to halt whatever they were doing. Their heads craned for a better view so they could see his Jaguar. The girls snapped to attention as well, but their eyes were on Cord himself as he rounded his car and sauntered to mine. Even though his head was down and he only looked at me and talked to me, he still emanated a subtle cockiness. It was as if everyone knew he was an elite athlete among their mix.

I could only shake my head. If people reacted like this to Cord, how would they handle Jesse?

“Any order?” Cord asked as he opened my back door and bent to scoop up a box.

“No order.”

“What room?” He straightened from the car.

“613.”

“Got it.” His head clipped up and down in a brisk nod before he headed for the opened stairway. It was like he knew where he was going, exactly where he was going.

“Was that Cord Tatum?”

I had expected the question from a girl. When it was a deep masculine voice instead, I was thrown off balance for a second. He looked in his mid-forties with a beer belly. Sweat soaked most of his shirt and he wiped a hand over his glistening forehead, but his eyes were lit up. “Was it?”

Then I remembered.

Cord and Jesse were on the basketball team. They helped take their team to the NCAA Championships. Of course, they would get this reaction. They were Grant West gods, already basketball legends.

I had a feeling I’d be getting this question a lot from the other dads.

“Uh,” I wasn’t sure what to say.

“Yo, Connors.” Cord was already back.

I almost did a double take. He must’ve sprinted up the stairs and jogged down, but he looked like he could do that twenty more times. He grinned from the corner of his mouth at me as he bent to picked up another box. “You got no roommate. Nice.”

The dad moved in his way. “Are you Cord Tatum?”

“Nah, man.” Cord gave him a polite smile and jogged back to the stairway. “I just look like him.”

The guy’s shoulders dropped down. “Oh. I thought—well—he looks a lot like him.”

He was still looking at me, but I shrugged and grabbed a box of my own. Locking the door, I went inside and up the stairs. Cord passed me on the third floor. He rolled his eyes as he held his hand out for my keys. “That guy still down there?”

I nodded. “Does that happen a lot?”

“Usually only when we head to a bar. I didn’t expect that here, but makes sense. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Is that…” I hesitated. I wanted to know how it was for Jesse. Should I ask that?

Cord flashed me another grin. “Don’t sweat it, Connors. Jesse comes off as a Grade A bastard so he’s usually not approached for autographs.” He laughed to himself, shaking his head. “And he gets away with it. No one’s going to think anything less of Malcolm Hunt’s son.”