Chapter 18
JINX
“Great game, buddy!”
Mason jogs off the football field, already unfastening his helmet. Even with it on, the smile plastered on his face is blinding. “Did you see that last play? I pancaked that guy!”
“Of course I saw it! Even heard him whimper like a little baby.” I throw my hand into the air for a high five.
Mason laughs and gives it a good slap. “Yep. I heard him, too.” He peers around me, craning his neck. “Have you seen Mom?”
“She’s here somewhere.” I turn and scan the crowd, but I don’t see her or Craig. Interesting. “She probably ran to the car for something.”
“Yeah, probably.” He grabs a bottle of water and squirts a hefty amount into his mouth.
“Hey, Mason!” Dalton comes over wearing a huge smile. “What the heck got into you today? You were on fire out there!”
The kid continues to beam. “Ate my Wheaties this morning.”
That has Dalton and me throwing our heads back and roaring.
Mason’s back to looking past us. “There’s Mom. Dad, too.”
I turn and follow his line of sight. Sure enough, Rachel’s there, standing with her arms crossed over her chest, looking down at the ground while Craig throws his hands in the air.
“They’re fighting again.” Mason sighs.
I ruffle the kid’s sweaty hair. “Don’t you worry about it. That’s between them.”
“Yeah, but it’s probably about me or Emma. Or Cady.” He says her name with a sneer.
Dalton cringes behind him.“Time to regroup,” he says, clapping Mason on the back and pulling his attention away from his parents and their argument. “Come on.”
With that, they’re off, heading for the rest of the team for a postgame chat.
While I should follow, I don’t want to put that much space between Rachel and me. Not while Craig’s red faced and fuming. So I busy myself with cleaning up gear and water bottles for a few moments. Finally, Craig storms off toward the parking lot, and Rachel turns her face up to the sky like she always does, probably praying for patience or a goddamn miracle.
So I head over with Mason’s things. His gear is the only excuse I can come up with to talk to her, and I desperately want to talk to her. It’s been a week and a half since the night things got out of hand, and we haven’t talked much since. She hasn’t been avoiding me, but she’s been quiet. I’ve backed off a bit, eager to give her some time to process and figure out where we go from here. If we go anywhere from here.
But it’s killing me.
“Hey, Sunny. Did you catch that last play?” I hold out the water bottle and Mason’s helmet.
She forces a smile to her face, clearly still irritated over whatever Craig was raving about. “I did. That other kid okay?”
I shrug. “Haven’t heard otherwise, so I guess so.”
She laughs softly. “That’s good.”
“You okay?” I tip my chin in the direction Craig just huffed off to. “He looked pissed.”
“Isn’t he always?” She tries to smile again, but it falls quickly. She ducks her head and sighs. “He was asking if there’s something going on between us.”
“What?”
“He heard about the ride you gave me a couple of months ago, of course. And then the lawn mowing…” She swallows hard, and I know what she’s thinking. Good thing he didn’t hear about that night in my kitchen.
“What’d you tell him?”
“That it’s none of his business.”
Damn right, it’s not. And her response? Sticking up for herself rather than denying it to keep the peace? It’s got my heart clenching.
A slow, genuine smile spreads across her lips, which, I’ve noticed, are free of any gloss or lipstick today. In fact, I don’t think she’s wearing any makeup. She’s prettier than she’s ever been with those freckles on full display.
“You look pleased to hear that.”
“I am.” I’m generally not into pissing matches, but… “If he thinks he’s got something to worry about with me, then let him.”
She playfully bumps her arm into mine. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah. I’m a big boy. I can handle his shit.” Especially if it means taking some of the pressure off her.
“I knew I liked you.” The confession seems to surprise her as much as it does me, because her eyes widen for a second before she laughs, clearly embarrassed. “God…”
“You can call me Justin. And I happen to like you, too.”
She shoots me a you did not just say that look as the breeze teases strands of her hair across her cheek.
I fist my hands at my sides and resist the urge to tuck the wayward hairs behind her ear. I truly don’t care what Craig thinks, but the last thing I want is for him to witness the move and start shit in front of the kids.
“I should get going,” she says with a sigh. “Emma has a haircut this afternoon.”
“You should text me again.”
Her gaze flicks to mine, and we stand there for a beat, watching each other, so much felt but left unsaid between us.
“I’m a mess, Justin. You know that.”
“I like messy, Sunny.”
Those pretty lips purse and, if I’m not mistaken, the color that seeps into her cheeks isn’t from the midday sun.
“Be careful what you wish for, Coach Enders.”
Oh, it’s going to be like that now, is it?
Bring it on, babe.
Most of thekids and their parents cleared out pretty quickly after the game, but as I’m loading the water jug into the gear wagon, Emma jogs over.
“Hey, Em. Did Mason forget something?” I scan the parking lot, stopping when I find Rachel by her SUV, helping Mason undress and remove his pads.
Instead of answering, Emma grabs my wrist, turns my hand over, and drops something into it. “I made this for you.”
She what?
She pulls her hand away, revealing one of those friendship bracelets all the kids are wearing these days. The kind with colorful beads and some lettered ones, too. This one has round black and brown beads, with smaller white ones in the middle.
“Holy crap, Em. This is great. What does it say?”
She shrugs and toes the gravel, suddenly shy. “I don’t know.”
“Okay.” I chuckle and spin the beads so I can read the word. “Spitfire.”
Her cheeks flush a bit. “Do you remember?”
“Of course I do. But I thought you were Spitfire?”
She rolls her eyes. “I am.”
I frown, and she huffs at my stupidity.
“Look.” She holds out her wrist, where a half dozen bracelets just like the one she gave me, but in different colors, sit. “I have one for my friend Tessa.” She points to a pink and green one with the initials TJM on it. “And this one is for Drake—”
“Who’s Drake?”
“Ugh.” She groans, dropping her head back. “A boy, okay? Anyway, we wear bracelets for the people we’re friends with.”
Hot damn. “Are you saying we’re friends, Spitfire?”
She fidgets with her bracelets, arranging them nervously, then holds her arm out again and points to a white and red one with my name on it. “I have this one.”
The strangest pressure knots itself in the center of my chest. A heart attack? Acid reflux? Shit, is this what it feels like to be considered cool by an eight-year-old?
“I don’t know what to say. This is awesome.” And easily the sweetest gift anyone has ever given me.
“It’s okay if you think it’s stupid.”
“I don’t think it’s stupid at all.” I slip the bracelet over my hand. It’s a little snug, but it’s stretchy. “Looks good, too.”
“I didn’t want to put my real name, because I didn’t want it to be weird.” She shifts from foot to foot. “I mean, you’re old and stuff.”
With a hand pressed to my chest, I feign offense. “I’m not that old.”
She cocks her head to the side. “You can’t go around wearing a bracelet with an eight-year-old’s name on it, Jinx. People will think you’re a pedophile.”
I have to bite back a gasp at that comment. I’m not sure if I even want to know how she knows what a pedophile is.
“People will think that mine means ‘Jinx, you owe me a Coke’ or something.”
“Fair enough.” I hold out my arm and admire the new jewelry. “You give your mom one of these?”
She scowls. “Um, no. She’s my mom, not my friend.”
Ouch.
“Besides, if I made one for her, then my dad might find out.”
“And you don’t want to make him one?”
“I don’t want to make Cady one.”
Oh. There goes my heart, aching for her again. “Ah, I see.”
She fusses with the bracelets on her wrist, gaze averted again. “She’s not so bad. But Mom would be mad.”
Rachel wouldn’t be mad. Hurt maybe, but never mad if Emma really wanted to give Cady a friendship bracelet.
“How are things going with you and your dad?”
“Fine. Cady’s teaching me how to diamond paint.”
I have no idea what that is, but okay. “That’s great. I mean, if you think it is…”
She nods. “Yeah. It’s fun. And my mom seems a little better, too.”
A smile splits my face at that. “That’s great. I’m glad to hear it.”
I don’t know what I expected to happen today beyond the football game that just ended, but this conversation wasn’t it.
Emma continues to reorganize her bracelets, putting them in a different order. “Grandpa Felix says that divorce isn’t always a bad thing.”
“I think he’s right about that, Spitfire.”
A wide grin slashes across her face. “See? It’s a good name for me, right?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, it’s a good name.” Propped up against my tailgate, I cross my arms. “So, who’s this Drake kid?”
Her eyes go wide, but she’s saved when Rachel hollers for her.
“I have to go.” She takes one step back, then another. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“Your secret is safe with me.” I zip my lips and throw an imaginary key over my shoulder.
“Ew.” She cringes. “Don’t be weird.”
A laugh bursts out of me as she turns and runs back to her mom and her brother.
I may be weird, but I just got myself a pretty awesome friendship bracelet from a pretty awesome girl.
I’ll take that any day.