Chapter Nineteen
The smell of coffee and burnt toast pulled me awake way too early in the morning.
For a second, I forgot where I was until I heard Toby humming off-key somewhere in the kitchen and Justin moving in the hallway.
The weight of a blanket and the faint warmth of early morning sunlight spilling through the curtains reminded me I was still in their house and completely safe.
I stretched slowly, feeling the ache in my back fade to a dull whisper. Justin’s bed was warm and the memories of his quiet voice, his steady hands, and the gentle press of his kiss drifted through me.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” Toby called from the doorway. “Coffee or hot chocolate? We’re civilized men, so we do have options.”
I snorted. “This time at least. Coffee, please.” I pulled myself upright.
By the time I made it to the kitchen, Justin had already poured me coffee and slid a plate of scrambled eggs and pancakes across the counter. “We figured you’d need fuel for the charity event,” he said softly.
Right. The March Madness fundraiser.
A full-day community event, packed with games, races, and even a bake-off. Hope’s Embrace was scheduled to be there too. Instead of regular classes, the school put it on to promote charity, and students worked together to make the whole thing happen.
The guys had all volunteered of course. Seth was refereeing one of the dodgeball tournaments. Justin was part of the swim team exhibition. Toby was doing...something chaotic. And Paxon— I stopped that thought before it could finish.
By late morning, I was freshly changed and at the school, ready to do my own part.
The school was completely alive with bright banners welcoming everyone at the entrance.
The air smelled of popcorn and sugar before I even walked through the front door.
Families filled the quad, and the gym doors were propped open, offering a glimpse of the bleachers already filled with people waiting for the tournaments to start.
Tables just outside of the gym were filled with cupcakes and raffle tickets.
Hope’s Embrace had two different setups: a bake sale at the entrance, and somewhere else on campus, they had an actual booth.
The bake sale was right beside a student-made mural that read Play Hard, Give Back.
For the morning, I helped with handing out the baked goods, welcoming those who came to the school.
One woman gave me this big warm smile that made me freeze as I was handing her a box of cupcakes. “You’re Cadence, right? My adopted daughter listens to the Hope’s Embrace playlist before bed every night. Says it makes her feel safe.”
Something in my chest warmed and ached all at once. “I’m glad,” I said. “Music’s good at making me feel safe again too.”
Her smile softened. “It does more than many of us are capable of doing. Thank you.” She held up the box of cupcakes I’d given her then walked off to join a man who wrapped his arm around her as they moved farther into the school.
By noon, Toby had found me and somehow convinced me to join a ‘friendly’ free-throw competition.
“Come on,” he said, tugging my sleeve. “You can’t just stand around and smile pretty. You’ve got that deadly aim when you’re mad. Channel it. Besides, one of the donors is matching the feet covered.”
I blinked. “Matching the feet covered?”
“Yeah! Every foot the ball travels toward the hoop, they’re donating five bucks to Project Second Shot. It’s a nonprofit that offers sports therapy and rehabilitation programs for troubled teens. Dyer Construction’s sponsoring this one.” He pointed toward the big banner hanging above the booth:
Dyer Construction x Project Second Shot – $5 for every foot thrown! Play strong, give back.
Seth’s company sponsoring the event wasn’t a surprise.
“That means even if you miss, you’re still building a basketball court somewhere,” Toby said proudly. “A hero in motion.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously persuasive,” he countered, tossing me a basketball. “Fifteen feet to the free-throw line. That’s seventy-five bucks if you make it, or seventy-five if you don’t. Charity wins either way.”
I hesitated, glancing toward the court. Paxon was there of course, his blond hair catching the light, his movements effortless. He was playing an actual game with a team.
“Come on,” Toby said, lowering his voice. “Don’t let him get to you. Besides, he’s too distracted. I heard he really wants to win the prize. It’s a trophy shaped like a basketball shoe.”
I laughed despite myself. “That’s hideous.”
“Yes, but since it’s for charity you aren’t allowed to insult it. The charity shoe is untouchable and the most coveted thing here.”
I sighed and followed him toward the court section where the charity shots were taking place.
Thankfully, it was a little further away from the half-court basketball game Paxon was playing.
We stepped around clusters of students and parents.
The buzz of energy was infectious, helping my mood.
Music blasted from the loudspeakers, a mash-up of pop and classic hype songs.
“All right, Wiles,” Toby said, tossing me a ball once it was our turn.
“Fifteen feet to the free-throw line. Made or missed, that’s seventy-five bucks for the kiddies.
You’re incapable of losing. You get three shots.
And don’t worry. I believe in you way more than is reasonable, so I know you can do it. ”
I tried not to smile and failed. Shaking my head, I said, “You’re ridiculous. But I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
I adjusted my grip. The ball felt rough beneath my palms, cold from sitting by the propped up door that led outside from the gym. “Fine. I can’t believe I’m letting you talk me into shooting basketballs now.”
My first ball went wide, bouncing off the rim. The volunteer in charge rang a little bell anyway. “Seventy-five for the kids!”
“See?” Toby crowed, raising an eyebrow. “Winning already!”
I groaned, fighting a smile. “You’re impossible.”
“Try again. You’re better than that rim and you know it.”
The next one arced through the air perfectly and dropped clean through the net.
The small crowd of people waiting for their turn clapped. Someone rang the little bell at the booth. One of the volunteers called, “A swish! That’s double for the fund!” There was an electronic counter, and it went up, counting my two shots.
I was allowed to shoot one more, missing. I didn’t care. Like Toby said, I still made seventy-five dollars for the kids just by attempting it.
“You’re dangerous with a basketball,” Toby said as I handed the ball back to him. “You sure you don’t want to join the team?”
I laughed. “Only if the hoop starts handing out sheet music instead of trophies.”
Toby slung an arm around my shoulders as we left the court. “Noted. Still proud of you, candy star.”
I smiled faintly and glanced back once more. Paxon stood on the far side of the court, watching me. He didn’t say anything, didn’t wave, but for a heartbeat, his expression softened, almost like the boy I missed seeing.
Then someone called his name and the moment broke.
Bryan and Seth found us just as Toby was busy explaining how my ‘perfect free-throw form’ was clearly the result of years of secret athletic training.
“Secret training, huh?” Bryan asked. “You shoot three basketballs and we’re suddenly rewriting your college major?”
Toby spread his arms. “She’s a prodigy. Look at her.”
I rolled my eyes, fighting a grin. “Don’t encourage him. I think he ate half a dozen cupcakes before I even got here.”
Toby’s grin in response to what I said verified that he’d definitely had a lot of sugar.
“Encourage Toby? Never.” Bryan’s smile gave him away.
He had that casual, composed look that made it easy to forget how much chaos he liked stirring when he felt like it.
Today, he was dressed comfortably in a soft grey hoodie and jeans.
“My parents already did their good deed for the day,” he added.
“They wrote a couple of checks and bailed after the opening ceremony. I figured I’d hang out and actually enjoy the event. ”
“Good call,” Seth said, walking up with his yellow Volunteer shirt tucked into his jeans and a referee whistle hanging around his neck.
His sleeves were pushed up, and the sunlight caught the curve of his arm as he tipped a cup of coffee toward his lips.
“At least one Stokes Foundation donor had the decency to stay.”
Bryan mock-saluted him. “Someone’s gotta keep your refereeing honest.”
Seth grinned. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Would too.”
Their playful bickering made the air feel light.
The event ended up being bigger than I’d imagined, surrounding us with laughter and cheering.
Every booth was alive with energy and color.
The whole school was strung with banners and streamers in grey and yellow.
Even our school mascot, Sugar Maple, was making her way around.
She was a cute chibi maple tree mascot that was a big hit with the little kids.
We passed by the Sweet Steps Bake-Off where the culinary class was competing in a sweets competition, all sales raising money for prosthetics for kids. At the pool, The RippleRun Foundation had a challenge currently being manned by Justin and his teammates. Their booth sign proudly read:
“Sink or Swim Challenge”
$2 per toss—Land in a life buoy, make a difference!
Blue Buoy: $10 donation
Yellow Buoy: $20 donation
Red Buoy: $50 donation
All proceeds matched by Havenway Bank
Justin stood near the water in his dark blue swim team shirt, clipboard tucked under his arm, calling out scores while one of his teammates retrieved rings with a long net.
The pool was filled with life buoys lazily drifting around, mostly a mix of blue and yellow ones.
The smell of chlorine mingled with the sharp sweetness of kettle corn drifted from somewhere nearby.