Page 24 of First Moon

Waylon came around the side of the house, broad-shouldered and serious, wearing jeans, boots, and a navy Juniper Creek High School football shirt stretched across a chest that told me it wasn’t just his students he made train. His hair was dark, his jaw hard, and his eyes landed on me with a look I could interpret as hostile but chose to call protective instead.

I stood.

Ivy did too, brightening at the sight of him. “Waylon.”

His face softened the second he looked at her.

“Baby sister.” He pulled her into a hug, bending his head to kiss the top of hers. “About time you came home.”

“I’ve been busy,” Ivy said.

“I know, entertaining the world. But you’re still ours, you know,” Waylon said.

“Course I do.” She smacked him playfully on the chest, then led him over to me.

Up close, he had the kind of presence that made a person understand why teenage boys would immediately drop and start doing push-ups if he merely looked at them with a hint of disappointment.

“Jack,” he said.

“Waylon.” I held out my hand. “Good to meet you.”

His handshake was firm and steady.

“You a football fan?” Waylon asked.

“Depends who’s playing,” I said.

“Careful now,” Beau said from the table as he popped open another beer. “We don’t want to hear about the team who shall not be named. We’re real sick of them around here.”

“He’s talking about the Seahawks,” Ivy stage whispered to me.

“My lips are sealed,” I said, chuckling.

Waylon took the chair across from Ivy, which put him directly opposite me. On purpose, I suspected.

“Let me tell you how we roll around here when it comes to football,” Waylon said. “Friday nights belong to the Juniper Creek Hawks. That’s nonnegotiable. If we’ve got a home game, you come. If we’re away, you drive. If it rains, you get wet. If it’s cold, you wear a coat and don’t dare complain.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” I said.

“Saturdays belong to the Tennessee Volunteers,” Waylon continued. “We bleed orange in this family, even when they make it hard, which they often do because apparently the Lord uses college football to teach humility.”

“Amen,” Gus said.

“And Sundays,” Waylon said, pointing his beer bottle toward me, “belong to the Titans. Now, you being from Washington, we will allow for some confusion in your early life, but we expect growth.”

Ivy leaned close to me. “That means you’re allowed to like the Seahawks privately, in your heart, where nobody can hear you.”

“That’s generous,” I said.

Beau grinned. “We’re a welcoming people.”

Caleb snorted. “Within reason.”

Waylon leaned back in his chair, studying me. “You can cheer for whoever you want, long as you understand one thing.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“In this house, we don’t want to hear it out loud unless it’s for my Hawks. Our Volunteers. Or the Tennessee Titans.”