Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Gator
The sun was dropping low when we hit the highway out of town, the sky bleeding into one of those deep orange-pink skies that this part of Texas was known for.
Julius had one leg tucked under him in the passenger seat, humming along to the radio and drumming his fingers on the dash.
The man could make a grocery run feel like a joyride.
“You sure your sister won’t mind me tagging along?” I asked, mostly to hear him talk.
“Mind? She’s the one who called to make sure I was bringing you. Said Yaya’s birthday doesn’t count as meeting someone because there were fifty people and three cakes.”
I chuckled. “She’s got a point. Hard to have a real conversation when your grandma’s threatening to cut folks for the last piece of chocolate.”
He laughed, but I kept one hand loose on the wheel, attention flicking to the rearview mirror every few seconds.
Old habit. The kind that doesn’t go away, even when you want it to.
I hadn’t seen any of the men who’d been tailing Julius lately, but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there.
I’d be damned if something happened on my watch.
We turned into the gravel lot beside the high school, headlights sweeping over rows of trucks and cars plastered with team decals. It took a few minutes to find a parking spot, but once we did, we got out and headed for the entrance.
The stadium lights blazed white against the twilight, and the sound of the marching band rolled out over the field—bright and a little off-key, but full of heart.
Miranda was easy to spot near the gate, waving one arm and balancing a tote bag with the other. Same smile as Julius, same spark in her eyes.
“There’s my favorite brother!” she called as we walked up.
“I’m your only brother,” Julius said, pulling her into a hug.
“Still counts.” She turned to me with a grin. “Hey, Gator. Good to see you again. You’ve recovered from the birthday party and meeting the whole family?”
“Barely,” I said, shaking her hand. “Your grandmother is something else.”
She laughed. “She is, but she really liked you.”
As we headed for the stands, I automatically scanned the lot—checking faces, noting which vehicles had their lights off but engines still warm. Nothing jumped out at me, but my pulse stayed at a low thrum. Crowds were tricky. Too many moving parts.
The bleachers were packed, the smell of popcorn, nachos, and grass thick in the air. I took the outside seat, giving me a clear view of both the field and the exits. Julius shot me a knowing look.
The cheer squad lined up on the field, shouting out cheers, their pompoms flashing under the lights while they pumped up the crowd for the game ahead. Julius nudged me, pointing. “There she is.”
“She’s good,” I said, watching her nail a tumbling pass. “Got her uncle’s flair.”
Miranda laughed. “Lord help me if she does.”
The band struck up a drumline, and the cheerleaders sprinted downfield, ponytails flying, arms full of a giant sheet of butcher paper painted with the team colors.
Across it, in bold blue letters, someone had scrawled Go Vipers!
Beat Bellville! The girls stretched it tight between them, faces flushed and laughing as the crowd rose to its feet.
Julius leaned forward on the bleacher, elbows on his knees. “Watch this,” he said, grinning. “This is my favorite part.”
The tunnel of players at the far end of the field started bouncing in rhythm with the drums, helmets glinting under the lights. A second later, they burst forward as one—cleats pounding, coaches yelling—and the paper banner exploded in a cloud of confetti and cheers.
The stands went wild. Parents were on their feet, kids were screaming, and Miranda was whistling so loud I was half-surprised the referees didn’t throw a flag for it.
Julius whooped right along with them, his whole face lit up, pride spilling out of him like sunlight. I watched him for a beat longer than I should’ve, smiling to myself.
Someone bumped past in the aisle behind us, and instinct had my body tensing before I could stop it. My gaze flicked over my shoulder—just a dad juggling sodas and nachos—but the reflex was there all the same. I shifted slightly, putting myself between Julius and the steps until the guy moved on.
“You can unclench now, soldier,” Miranda said, her voice teasing but kind.
I huffed a quiet laugh. “Old habits die hard.”
“Yeah, well,” she said, nudging me with her elbow, “around here the only thing you’ve gotta worry about is running out of cheese sauce.”
Julius laughed, leaning into my side. “See? Totally safe. Even from condiment shortages.”
I shook my head, but couldn’t stop the grin. “Guess I’ll take your word for it.”
Still, I kept one eye on the crowd even as I sat back, the roar of the stands washing over us. It was easy to pretend, for a little while, that the world beyond these bleachers didn’t exist—just family, Friday night lights, and the boy who made every part of it worth guarding.
The crowd roared for a touchdown, and I found myself clapping along. Julius’s laughter carried over the noise, bright and warm. It was the first time I’d seen him truly relaxed in weeks, and that alone made the whole trip worth it.
Still, every time someone passed behind us or a shadow shifted in the periphery, my head turned automatically. I didn’t want him to see it, didn’t want to drag that tension into his night, but I couldn’t shut it off.
During the time-out, Miranda tugged her blanket tighter and stood. “Popcorn run. You two want anything?”
“I’ll come,” Julius said, already getting up.
“I’ll tag along,” I added before he could argue.
Miranda raised a brow. “Still protective, huh?”
“Occupational hazard,” I said lightly, but my eyes were already tracking the crowd around the concession area. “Besides, someone’s gotta make sure you two don’t get trampled.”
The line moved slowly, and the lights over the stand flickered just enough to make me uneasy. I kept my hand near the small of Julius’s back without really thinking about it—close enough to guide, not enough to cage. He leaned into the touch anyway, glancing up with a small smile.
“You’re allowed to have fun, you know.”
“I am,” I said. “Just multitasking.”
He snorted. “Sure. Fun on one side, paranoia on the other.”
“Exactly.”
Julius and Miranda kept a running commentary about the crowd—who was on their third hot dog, who was sneakily pouring from a flask into their soda. It made me grin despite myself. He had a way of pulling me into the moment without me realizing it.
When we were close to the front, Julius turned to me, grinning. “I’m telling you, this is the best part of the night. Stadium food is pure nostalgia.”
“You call this food?” I teased, eyeing the fryer.
“You hush. You’ve got to embrace the grease.”
Miranda laughed. “He’s right, Gator. It’s tradition. You can’t fight the allure of football cuisine.”
“I ain’t fightin’ it,” I said, holding up my hands. “Hell, I grew up on it, but that’s the key phrase. I grew up.”
“Whatever.” Julius grinned before turning back to the mom taking the order. “I’ll have a Frito pie, a large pickle, and a Diet Coke. Oh, and some nachos.”
I wiggled my fingers in the air. “Good thing you have an extra set of hands to help carry some of that.”
He just winked at me and turned back to the counter.
We came back with our haul—Julius with food for three people, popcorn for Miranda, and water for me, and settled in again.
The noise of the game washed over us, and slowly, the tension in my shoulders eased.
A little. Julius’s niece nailed her routine at halftime, and the stands erupted.
Julius jumped up, cheering like a proud uncle, his grin wide and unguarded.
I caught Miranda watching him, eyes soft.
It had been fun, but when the game ended, the Vipers winning by seven, I was ready to go. We helped Miranda gather her mountain of stuff—tote, blanket, half a box of popcorn—and walked her out to her SUV.
The crowd was thinning, but I still kept one eye on the shadows, scanning the edges of the lot where the lights didn’t reach. A loud bang rang out somewhere behind us, and my body tensed before I realized it was just a kid tossing his gear in the bed.
Miranda unlocked her SUV and turned to smile at us. “Thanks for coming, you two. She’s gonna be thrilled you saw her cheer.”
“She was amazing,” Julius said.
“She was. You tell her I said so,” I added.
Miranda grinned. “You’re sweet, Gator. And sexy. That’s a dangerous combination.”
Julius groaned. “Do not flirt with my sister.”
I smirked. “I wasn’t me. It was her.”
She laughed, waved, and climbed into her SUV. We stood there a minute, watching her taillights fade down the road. Julius slid his hand into mine, fingers curling around mine.
“See?” he said softly. “Told you it’d be fun.”
“Yeah,” I murmured, squeezing his hand. “It was.”
But as we turned back toward the truck, my eyes drifted once more over the parking lot, cataloging faces, lights, and every shadow that moved wrong. The night had been good—hell, almost perfect—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out there waiting.
And if it was, it wasn’t getting anywhere near him.