Catching Jordan Novels & Stories

I waved at Lucan when I reached their spot, a friendly gesture, in which he returned. I walked past and unexpectedly, the basketball captain began to jog towards me, and I felt my heart rate quicken, I can’t let Jordan catch even the slightest glimpse of us. Before he could reach me, I heard the roar of a motorcycle engine. I turned, and there was Jordan, pulling up to the curb.

Jack taunted seemingly unfazed by Jordan's injury. Jordan suddenly let out a breathless laugh that sounded a bit like a cough and then just as quickly kicked a foot out sweeping Jack's legs out from underneath him landing him flat on his back, the air in his lungs flew out with an audible hiss, especially when Jordan pounced on him and pinned him down. "Old age huh? I'm what a whole nine months older than you?" Jordan taunted back. "Ten," Jack gasped out. I gave a little giggle catching their attention and unfortunately distracting Jordan enough that Jack was able to toss Jordan off him and over his head where he landed with a thud on the ground next to him. They both laid still for a moment

Jordan quickly got up and sat down. "Lala..." Jordan called. Clarabelle stood up, ready to go home. Jordan looked at Clarabelle. Clarabelle still didn't want to listen to him. The proof, Clarabelle would go. Jordan couldn't wait any longer. He stood up and pulled Clarabelle quickly into his arms.

Beneath the well-cut suit and determined jaw was the same kid who’d grown up in Boulder, the one who refused to quit, even with his knee in pieces and the whole sport seemingly moving on without him. The ESPN crew buzzed with energy. Cables snaked across the carpet, lights blazed, and a wall-mounted camera pivoted to catch the best angle. Center stage, Jordan Steele stood tall with athletic grace, every bit the broadcast pro—dark hair perfectly styled, suit impeccable, smile wide and easy. His presence filled the room, command and charm in equal measure. Jordan caught Jeremy’s approach, extending a strong handshake and a quick, knowing grin. “Jeremy Davis! Good to finally meet you in person.

I shook my head, balling my hand into a fist "Jesus, Jordan. What..." "It's just breaking in. We won't get caught." "Hopefully."

"Crap!" Jordan exclaims as he gazes out the window scanning the area for cops. He turns around and says, "I just saw George get out of the car." Standing up, I hurry over to the window and stare out as he walks towards the door. Watching him knock, Jordan goes to the door and prepares to answer it. Ready for a fight, he stiffens and opens it.

The court erupts in a yell. Then he looks up. Right at me. I forget how to blink. He holds the stare, sweat dripping down his neck, and then without breaking eye contact he shoots again. Three points. Nothing but net. I whip my head around so fast it’s embarrassing. “You okay?” he asks. “Fine.” “Mm-hmm.” We sit in silence a while longer, the sun dipping lower, the shadows stretching across the court. Jordan checks his phone. “I should head out. My cousin’s dog-sitting and already threatening to Venmo-charge me for every extra minute.”

Grabbing my hidden pistol and tucking it safely into my holster located under my jacket, I quickly dashed down the stairs. I stood in awe as I took in the sight before me. Standing there were the two sets of twins, Isaac and Landon, and Liam and Parker. They all wore huge grins when they saw me. "Ma found out enough. Time to take you home, little sis." Isaac spoke just as a guy came from behind. The four of them glared as the right-hand grabbed me across my shoulders in a feeble attempt to use me as a shield. "Let her go." Isaac's voice grew into a growl and was dripping with menace. I, on the other hand, rolled my eyes and flung my head back as hard as I could. I winced when I came in conta

He worked part-time jobs, cared for his younger siblings, balanced school and football, and spent long nights in hospital rooms. In the midst of all that chaos, calling Laila became harder. And harder. And eventually, it felt impossible. Shame wrapped tight around his throat. Pretending became easier than facing the truth. But karma doesn't forget. And fate has a wicked sense of humor. Because when Jordan was drafted by the Cincinnati Bengals, the first thing that hit him wasn't pride. It was her name. Laila. His chest tightened so sharply he could barely breathe. It felt like a sign—a second chance handed to him by the universe.