Chapter 27
“Holy shit!” Gabby cries over the excited crowd. “I know you said he was hot, but I didn’t think he was obscene! It almost hurts to look at him. And his dog in the football jersey? I can’t.”
I follow her line of sight down to the sideline and feast my eyes on Tate.
He’s huddled up with the quarterback, and Duke is sitting at his heels, all his little puppy rolls hidden beneath the jersey I made him.
The offense is about to take the field again after the defense forced the opposing team to another three and out—a term that, as the coach’s girlfriend, I now know.
The game is almost over and we’re up by thirty-five, but by the serious expressions on Tate’s and Brandon’s faces, they aren’t going to lose focus until the game is over and they’ve secured the end goal.
Securing the end goal—I’ve learned, thanks to many late nights, early mornings, and bouts of afternoon delight—is something Tate takes very seriously.
“I told you so,” I say over the squishy feeling in my stomach. “I’m pretty sure he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever met.”
And somehow, he’s all mine.
Ciara groans beside us. “Please stop calling my brother hot.”
“Why?” Gabby asks. “You’re related to him, so by calling him hot, we’re also saying it about you.
If your brothers are ever complimented, you’re allowed to take ownership of it.
If it’s an insult, though, then clearly you’re your own person and shared genetic links don’t mean much anyways. It’s sibling math.”
As an only child, I cannot relate, but I can absolutely agree.
“Sounds right to me.” I cosign Gabby’s logic and so does Millie.
“Thank you,” Millie says. “I’ve been trying to explain this to Ciara for years. Maybe you’ll get it to sink into her gorgeous, thick skull.”
“A thick skull is something else she has in common with Tate,” Silas chimes in from his seat behind us. “Which, unlike being undeniably good-looking, is a trait I don’t share with either one of those two knuckleheads.”
Of course sweet, wholesome, undeniably good-looking Silas Jacobs would only be able to come up with the term knuckleheads when insulting his siblings.
Things between Silas and Tate have been coming along slowly but surely.
Silas has started riding Glory over to my fence line more often when he knows Tate is over.
Sometimes he’ll even come in for lunch. Tonight is the first football game he’s come to in years, and according to Millie, it’s been the talk of the town.
Things with their dad, on the other hand, are still the same, but I’m hoping that changes soon too.
“What?” Gabby whirls around on the cowboy boots she bought for her trip. “Who says that anymore?”
“Silas is a nerd. Ignore him.” Ciara brushes him off. “What we really need to focus on is our plan for the Celestival. Mom asked me to judge the pie competition, and you already know I’m not getting on a single ride that arrived via U-Haul, but other than that, I’m open.”
“Luna said there’d be a rodeo,” Gabby says. “As a Celestial tourist, watching a man in a cowboy hat and Levi’s ride a horse and/or a bull is imperative to my overall health and happiness.”
“I’m so glad your flair for the dramatics has faded since I left.” I laugh. “I want to go to the rodeo, too, and I really want to check out the award-winning produce.”
I’ve been planning my future garden since I moved in. My history with plants is less than optimal, and I think seeing gigantic strawberries and zucchini would be really inspirational.
Ciara opens up the notes app in her phone and starts writing them down. “So pies, rodeos, and ribbon ceremonies. That’s a good start.”
“I can’t believe the person taking notes on the Celestival called me a nerd,” Silas teases as the other team calls their final time-out.
“You’re a nerd. I’m organized,” Ciara doubles down. “There’s a clear difference.”
She’s not wrong, and I, for one, appreciate her attention to detail.
Thanks to the easy, breezy way of living in Celestial, other than football games, I haven’t had to navigate a crowd in months. I get overwhelmed very easily, and knowing we have a game plan for the day has set the nerves I didn’t even know I had at ease.
“Speaking of nerds,” Millie pipes in, “I finished the books you gave me. I’ve loved my time in romantasy, but I think I’m feeling romantic suspense for my next order. Maybe a couple of rom-coms thrown in there if you have any.”
“If I have any? How dare you.” She can question a lot of things in my life, but my book collection isn’t one of them. “Give me a few days and I’ll have a new stack ready for next week.”
“You’re the best! I have Tuesday off. I’ll swap my books out then,” Millie says. “If they didn’t already have a new tenant lined up for the building next to the Artist Alchemy, I’d tell you to open a bookstore. Celestial needs your services!”
I loved my job at the Book Nook, and even though my little shed doesn’t have the same inventory of a bookstore, I’ve had so much fun turning my new friends into romance lovers.
Opening my own shop would be a dream, but it’s probably better that I focus on my house before I bring even more chaos into my life.
“Maybe one day,” I say as the game clock winds down to zero.
Everyone still in the stadium rises to their feet as the boys line up to shake hands.
This was an expected win, but excitement still buzzes like a live wire as they add another win to their undefeated record.
Tate has been trying to play it cool, but whenever the subject of the team comes up, he can’t hide the pride that lights up his face.
“Oh my god.” Gabby claps her hands together and bounces on her boot-clad toes. “Does this mean it’s finally time for me to meet Tate?”
Those latent butterflies take flight again, and the dreamy smile that I’ve been wearing damn near nonstop the last month tugs at my mouth.
“It does,” I say. “Just remember, the embarrassing stories were for Ciara and Millie only. If you tell Tate about the time I didn’t realize Jell-O shots were alcoholic beverages and not a light snack, I will send you back to Denver expeditiously.”
I was throwing up red for two days. My mom thought I was going to die until I told her about the copious amount of strawberry Jell-O I had the day before. Whoever decided to add alcohol to a classic childhood snack should get a serious talking-to.
She wipes her smile off her face and holds up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
“You weren’t a Scout,” I remind her. We joined Girl Scouts together and quit after a week.
“The intent is there all the same.” She shrugs. “My lips are sealed until I pen my maid-of-honor speech for your wedding.”
The thought of having a boyfriend was a foreign concept until recently. Marriage feels so far away and so massive that I could pass out just thinking about it.
And I almost do.
The stadium lights go blurry and my head swims. “My wedding? I haven’t known him long enough to even think about that.” I grab on to the metal railing splitting the bleacher stairs. “Let’s add marriage to the list of banned topics for this weekend.”
“Fine.” She pouts while the rest of our group snickers. “But only because I’ve missed you.”
“Thank you,” I say, and my vision clears as my panic recedes. “If I would’ve realized that distance was the key to you going easy on me, I might’ve moved earlier.”
“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m the only thing from back home that you miss.”
I bump my shoulder against hers as we weave through the crowd of parents waiting for their athletes to come out. “Cocky,” I say, but she tells no lies.
Colorado was the only home I’d ever known, and I was sure I would miss it when I left.
But I don’t.
Of course there are small things, like the restaurant I used to get a breakfast burrito from every weekend and the Ruffly Rose, the adorable flower shop where I’d go to treat myself to fresh flowers once a month.
But the big things? Like the way my heart beats slower and my breathing comes easier?
I’m not sure there’s a place on earth that could compete with Celestial.
Celestial feels like that old pair of jeans that you’ll never throw away.
It’s soft, worn, fits like a glove, and the frayed bits add character that you couldn’t find in any store.
I can’t believe I spent so much of my life not knowing I could feel so peaceful and happy.
I hate the reason I moved here, and I wish more than anything that my time with my mom had a different ending, but I’m grateful that she gave me this gift and I hope more than anything that I don’t ruin it.
“How was your first Texas Friday night lights experience?” Millie asks Gabby when we reach the locker room. “Did it live up to your expectations?”
“Highly surpassed,” Gabby says. “I still can’t believe this is the production you all have for high school games. I’ve been to colleges that weren’t as impressive. Both on the field talent and off. I still need to find out where those other cheerleaders get their boots.”
“They aren’t cheerleaders!” Millie, Ciara, and I all shout in unison.
“The Belles are dancers, not cheerleaders,” I correct, looking over my shoulder to make sure no dance moms heard Gabby. There are supervillains and horror movie monsters who aren’t as scary as they are. I’d rather take my chances with Michael Myers over the Celestial Belles parents and enthusiasts.
Talk about chilling.
Confusion mars her gorgeous face, and her eyebrows knit together. “But they were both on the side of the field with pom-poms and cheering for the team. Does that not make them cheerleaders?”
“You would think so.” Fear rings out in Millie’s whispered voice. “But we don’t make the rules, and don’t let the name trick you: The Belles are willing to throw down anyplace, anytime.”