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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Willow
“Hi!” I’m swept up into a bear hug from my father, who holds me close and kisses the top of my head before practically shoving me into my mother’s arms. “I’ve missed you guys.”
“We’ve missed you too, darling.” Mom presses her fragrant cheek against mine before shifting away from me, her hands on my upper arms as she holds me there, checking me out. “You look wonderful.”
I almost roll my eyes, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings and besides, I will take the compliments any time I can get them, I’ve been feeling so low lately. “You do too. You didn’t tell me you were coming today.”
My tone is faintly accusatory and Mom frowns, shaking her head once. “I swore I did.”
“You didn’t,” Dad says, his gaze going to mine. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”
I smile at the two of them. “I just didn’t know, but this is a pleasant surprise.”
“We came to all of Row’s games last season but you weren’t here. I suppose I forgot,” Mom murmurs, frowning. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. Expect to see us as much as possible throughout the football season, though we won’t cramp your style.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you want to spend time with your friends or whoever.” Mom smiles, her eyes twinkling. “Is there a special someone who’s caught your eye?”
“Mom, oh my God.” I glance around us but no one is paying any attention. “There’s no one. And if there was, I don’t know if I’d tell you yet.”
We’re standing outside of the Lancaster Prep stadium, keeping our eye on the scoreboard across the field, which says we have fifteen minutes until the JV game starts.
“You better not tell me yet because I’d automatically want to break his legs for thinking about getting with my daughter,” Dad says fiercely.
I roll my eyes while Mom laughs nervously. He’s so over the top. “I’m not a little girl anymore, Dad.”
“Oh, trust me, I know. That’s why I’d break the kid’s legs. That way he couldn’t stand near you. He’d be laid up in a wheelchair.”
“He’d still have his hands,” I point out, thinking of Iris’s earlier comment about Brooks and how he was good with his.
I wonder if Rhett is good with his hands. Fingers. Whatever. A shiver steals over me at the thought.
My dad’s face turns red and I realize that was probably the wrong thing to say. “I’ll break his arms too, then. And every one of those fingers.”
“Crew.” Mom settles her hand on Dad’s arm, her voice calm and soothing because no doubt, Dad needs a little soothing right now. “You’re getting all worked up over an imaginary boy. You need to calm down.”
“I know how I was at her age.” He shakes his head and I can tell he already seems a little calmer. His gaze locks with mine.
“Watch out, Willow. We’re all motivated by our hormones. I know I was.
“You were the most romantic boy I knew, Crew Lancaster.” Mom rises up on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to his lips.
“You weren’t living in my head twenty-four seven, thank God,” Dad mutters.
I ignore their romantic banter, checking out the stadium. It’s definitely old like Westscott told me and I’m curious if he was telling me the truth when he said money was pouring in from alumni donations, thanks to the success of the football team. And that they plan on spending that money on constructing a new stadium.
I don’t know why he’d lie about that, though as I continue looking around, I realize it’s not very busy. Oh, there are a few people milling about, but it’s mostly parents or underclassmen.
“It’s kind of quiet out here,” I note.
“I’m guessing the stands will fill up after the JV game is done,” Dad tells me.
“I was hoping more people would come and watch the JV team,” Mom says, her voice full of disappointment. “They need support just like the varsity team does.”
“Row will be playing varsity next year,” Dad reassures her. “Then we won’t have to come to these games.”
