Chapter 2 Lucy
TWO
Lucy
It’s game night at Margaret’s. Willa told me it’s practically a requirement to be here.
Apparently, Margaret, a friend of Willa’s who’s a self-proclaimed grandma to many, organizes over-the-top game nights that have even led to hospital trips.
That’s the part I think is a local legend.
Because I had some time off this weekend, I flew in from Denver and am spending a long weekend with my sister. And she’s dragged me to this legendary game night at Margaret’s. There are at least thirty people here, and I’m excited to see what the night holds.
“Now that everyone is here, we can begin,” Margaret announces from where she stands on her back porch.
I notice she gives Willa a pointed look. I look at Willa and find that she and Kingston are busy staring at each other. Kingston Palmer is my sister’s boss. And I also know he has his eye on her for more than work.
Another reason I’m tempted to move here. I should be here to keep an eye on my sister.
“For the first game of the night,” Margaret starts to say, then pauses for dramatic effect, “We’re playing football.”
I glance around the large porch at the other guests. No one else seems fazed by this announcement.
I find my sister standing next to Kingston and I see her eyes take on a dangerous look. Her eyes meet mine and she grins.
She’s diabolical. And competitive. Just like me—I’m just better at hiding it.
We grew up with a dad who is a professional football coach. And during the happier years of our childhood, he spent a lot of time playing with us in the yard. It was a happy time full of good memories and learning to play football better than any of the boys at our school.
“I’m on Willa’s team!” Archie, Meyer’s husband, exclaims. Meyer is Willa’s best friend and a big reason she lives here in Oregon.
Archie abandons Meyer on the porch as she protests.
He walks away with a cheeky grin and hurries to stand next to Willa. He must have seen her throw a football before. “No offense, honey, but you don’t catch like Willa does,” Archie explains with a smile as he walks off the porch. Meyer leaps out of her chair and chases him into the yard.
I step off the porch and hurry over to Willa. “Margaret can’t be serious, right? I thought this was more like a competitive Uno game night,” I whisper.
Kingston overhears and grins at me. “Oh, she’s serious.”
I smile at him, but ask Willa, “Do we have to play nice?”
“No, absolutely not. We’re playing to win.”
Perfect.
“If we’re playing football, how about a girls-versus-boys kind of situation?” Meyer suggests with an evil smile.
There are several agreeing shouts. The only dissenters are Kingston, Archie, and Miles. Ultimately, we agree to Meyer’s idea.
The next few minutes are spent arguing about the rules of two-hand touch football.
Apparently, only eight of us are playing. Everyone else has opted to watch the ensuing chaos from the safety of the porch.
Our team consists of Willa, Meyer, Bailey—Meyer’s sister, and me.
On the opposing team are Kingston, his friend Miles, Archie, and Bailey’s husband, Dan.
Willa and Kingston are busy getting in each other’s faces, arguing about who’s going to win. I’m predicting they start officially dating any day now with the amount of chemistry there is between them.
Miles, Kingston’s friend, stops next to me. “You’re staring.”
“I’m trying to put a scary face on for the guy who’s flirting with my little sister,” I admit.
Miles chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure that frown is going to make him burst into tears.”
I glance up at him with a smirk. “I’m totally capable of making people cry.”
“Maybe happy tears…”
“I’ll remind you of that when we win tonight.”
Miles folds his arms across his chest and leans down toward me, his eyes twinkling. “Bring it.”
Turns out, he’s as competitive as I am, and most of the game is spent trying to foil each other—turns out we’re both willing to cheat. At one point, he even held me in place physically. I may or may not have tripped him at another time.
And when we end up losing because of Kingston literally carrying the football and Willa for a touchdown, we all know this game had more to do with Margaret forcing them together.
I walk toward the house next to Miles.
“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t make you cry,” I tease.
He laughs. “Actually, I think you did. I was not expecting you to trip me, and I laughed so hard I might have cried.”
“Thanks for being a good sport. I can get a little too competitive.” I grimace.
He stops walking and holds out a hand to me. “I had fun. Friends?”
That hopeful look and warm smile are impossible to resist. I grasp his hand in a firm grip. “Friends.”