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Especially when all I can think about is the way Joshua’s rough hands felt on my skin.

CHAPTER EIGHT

WYNTER

The bright lights of the Sycamore Falls High School football field glow against the dark sky as I sit alone near the top of the bleachers. My breath clouds in the cold, and the metal seat bites through my sweater dress. Down below, my father paces along the sideline, his headset on and play binder tucked beneath one arm.

Growing up, I spent so many Friday nights sitting in these bleachers. First with my legs swinging beneath me because my feet didn’t reach the ground. Then as a middle schooler surrounded by friends, counting down the days until I was in high school so I could wear the purple and gold cheerleading uniform.

Eventually, I did just that.

I never could have imagined the game I pretended to watch on Friday nights because my boyfriend was on the team would consume my entire life.

Someone approaches, and I brace myself for yet another conversation about Wyatt with some local who recognizes me. I thought coming here was a way to support my father now that he’s coached his team to the championship game.

I should have realized my presence here wouldn’t go unnoticed. The wife of Wyatt Patterson coming home is definitely news, especially in a town as small as Sycamore Falls.

Maybe I should pretend to be focused on the game. If I stare hard enough at the field, hopefully whoever it is will get the hint and leave me alone.

“Hey, Winnie.”

I whip my head around, inhaling sharply at the sight of my brother standing in the aisle, a knit beanie pulled low over his wayward dark hair.

“What are you doing here?” I jump up and fling my arms around Bennett. “You hate football games.”

I pull back and meet his brilliant blue eyes. He may be my little brother by five years, but he’s not so little anymore. He’s at least six-two or six-three.

“I figured you’d be here, so I got Noah to cover the rest of my shift.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call.” I lower myself back to the bench, and Bennett sits beside me. “I meant to. I just got in last night and⁠—”

“I know how Thursday nights at the house can be.” He rolls his eyes. “I avoid it at all costs.”

“Definitely poor planning on my part.” I huff a laugh.

“Interested in a little pick-me-up?” He lifts a travel mug.

“I’m not sure drinking coffee after nine is such a good idea.”

“Do you really think it’s coffee?” he scoffs. “I thought you knew me better than that.”

I give the mug a skeptical look but take it anyway, lifting it to my lips.

The moment the liquid hits my throat, I cough. Hard. Bennett bursts out laughing.

“Definitely not coffee,” I rasp when I catch my breath. “What the hell is in here?”

“Scotch. Figured you could use the strong stuff tonight.”

“You’re right about that.” I take another sip. This time, I’m prepared and swallow down the liquor without coughing. “Dad would lose his shit if he found out we were drinking during the game.”

“It’s okay to break the rules once in a while, Winnie. It makes life interesting.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter.

“Why? Because I have the reputation for being the problem child?” He leans back against the railing and stretches his legs in front of him as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. Considering it’s Bennett, he probably doesn’t.

“I didn’t say that.”