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Jordan: Broken, Shattered, and Blue

Auteur: Gemma D. Nash
last update Date de publication: 2026-07-11 00:57:38

The only audible sound was the clink of silverware on plates. I wanted to be anywhere else but here, seated between Heather and my father.

But unlike me, Heather was having the time of her life. Every inch of her frame was pressed into my side, and she had this grin on her face that made me feel like I’d missed the plot.

It seemed like it was going to be a quiet dinner. Perhaps the silence was finally for my sister, who should have been here, seated right where Heather was.

But I thought too
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  • The Things We Don't Say   Jordan: I Wish This Was Special

    The Arthurs tended to host a lot of dinners when the family was about launching out something new. And now that I was back from Spain with reports underway and a team about taking its first power step, my father was elated. Just him, from the looks of it.It was the reason we were gathered around the huge banquet table out in the gardens, when I would rather be at JAR, getting up to date with the administration and sales. I picked up the delicate stem of the wine glass, swirling its contents before taking a slow sip.There was chatter around me, mild but present. It was like the slow buzzing of bees. After a while, it got too much for anyone to handle. My father had yet to speak to me since I returned, but after the call we had that morning, before the flight, I doubted there was anything left to be said.But knowing Marv Arthur, there was another ace card. He tended to have a million of those. I was learning from him."Is the steak not to your liking, honey?" My mom whispered next t

  • The Things We Don't Say   Jordan: Can We Make It If We Try?

    It wasn’t the polite, uncertain kiss we had shared last night, when I was scared and doubted a lot of things; when I didn’t know what to do. It was desperate, like I wanted to feel every inch of me, even if I didn’t know what that meant. Marcus’ mouth was cold, and I had to be going insane because I thought he still tasted of the juice he’d had earlier today. I pushed my knees between Marcus’ thighs, crowding him in the way I knew how. My fingers tangled into the short waves of his grey hair, feeling the soft tresses slide against them, He let out a low, ragged sound into my mouth and his hands came up to grip my shirt, pulling us closer until there was no space or air left between us. The glass behind him must be freezing, but his body was as hot as a furnace. He parted his lips, letting me kiss him. My hands slipped down Marcus' throat, and I pressed softly before tracing a path on his collarbones, through the line of his polo shirt, before slipping underneath the fabric to touch

  • The Things We Don't Say   Jordan: Just Might Put It All On The Line

    The instruction had come out of the blue, surprising even me. But for some reason, I wanted to see him do it. I wanted to see the magic, the awe that would appear in his eyes when he did, because I knew Marcus.He was in tune with every inch of his emotions, and it was one of the things I was hooked on him in ways that even I couldn't explain. It was beautiful: his honesty, his openness, his need to not hide behind plays and plots like I had been used to all my life. "We're definitely not supposed to touch the onyx," Marcus said, but I knew he wanted to. I could see it in the way his feet stood on the tips of their toes, like it was all they wanted to do. I could sense the urge in him. He needed to realize that he wouldn't get into any trouble for it.Not as long as I was here with him. “It’s just us here, Marcus,” I murmured, settling closer to him. “And besides, nothing is going to happen. You are careful, and everything always works out in the end.”Marcus hesitated, but in anoth

  • The Things We Don't Say   Jordan: Can We Make It If We Try?

    It wasn’t the polite, uncertain kiss we had shared last night, when I was scared and doubted a lot of things; when I didn’t know what to do. It was desperate, like I wanted to feel every inch of me, even if I didn’t know what that meant. Marcus’ mouth was cold, and I had to be going insane because I thought he still tasted of the juice he’d had earlier today. I pushed my knees between Marcus’ thighs, crowding him in the way I knew how. My fingers tangled into the short waves of his grey hair, feeling the soft tresses slide against them, He let out a low, ragged sound into my mouth and his hands came up to grip my shirt, pulling us closer until there was no space or air left between us. The glass behind him must be freezing, but his body was as hot as a furnace. He parted his lips, letting me kiss him. My hands slipped down Marcus' throat, and I pressed softly before tracing a path on his collarbones, through the line of his polo shirt, before slipping underneath the fabric to touch

  • The Things We Don't Say   Jordan: Just Might Put It All On The Line

    The instruction had come out of the blue, surprising even me. But for some reason, I wanted to see him do it. I wanted to see the magic, the awe that would appear in his eyes when he did, because I knew Marcus.He was in tune with every inch of his emotions, and it was one of the things I was hooked on him in ways that even I couldn't explain. It was beautiful: his honesty, his openness, his need to not hide behind plays and plots like I had been used to all my life. "We're definitely not supposed to touch the onyx," Marcus said, but I knew he wanted to. I could see it in the way his feet stood on the tips of their toes, like it was all they wanted to do. I could sense the urge in him. He needed to realize that he wouldn't get into any trouble for it.Not as long as I was here with him. “It’s just us here, Marcus,” I murmured, settling closer to him. “And besides, nothing is going to happen. You are careful, and everything always works out in the end.”Marcus hesitated, but in anoth

  • The Things We Don't Say   Marcus: The Barcelona Pavilion 

    The McLaren’s purr made me sigh in bliss each time I heard it. It was funny to Jordan because he kept laughing. He’d handed me my phone, explaining that he helped me bring it down when he realized I hadn’t come up yet, so as not to stress my poor feet going back in just for it.His words, not mine. The ride wasn’t as short as all the ones we’d undergone since we got to Spain. So, Jordan and I spoke about anything and everything on the way. It reminded me of the first time I rode in his car with him. The first day we ever spoke complete sentences to each other.He’d scared me that day. He’d asked me to run away from him. Maybe I should have listened to him. But sitting next to him right now, I was happy I didn’t. I was happy to be there. I didn’t know what this was, and honestly, I wasn’t ready to confront it just yet.But I was very much aware of the bubble we were in, a bubble that was going to burst tomorrow as we packed our bags to return home. So, I was going to live in this mome

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