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.”

“I think I like the smaller crowds.” Mom glances around. “They’re so much quieter.”

Dad grabs hold of Mom’s hand and squeezes it. They’re both wearing matching Lancaster Prep Lions T-shirts and jeans, and Mom’s hair is in a low ponytail, her lips painted crimson, much like mine. “We should head inside. The game is going to start soon and I want to get good seats.”

I follow them through the gates, glancing around in search of Iris. We parted ways once my parents texted to let me know they were on campus, and she went to hang out with Bronwyn and a few other girls when I said I was going to meet up with them.

“I’ll come sit with you guys once the JV game starts. I want to see your parents,” Iris promised me, kissing me on the cheek before she left.

I checked my face in the mirror once she was gone, not surprised to see the lipstick smear on my cheek along with a hint of foundation. I rubbed it off, grateful she wasn’t wearing a darker shade, but the lipstick print gave me an idea. Made me think of those photos I found of my parents—of my dad covered in lipstick prints Mom gave him.

I wouldn’t mind trying that with Rhett, but would he let me? He’d probably think it was stupid. Silly. I’m sure he’s been with plenty of sexually-experienced girls while I’m over here wearing my imaginary “Hi, I’m a virgin” T-shirt. He has to know. I’ve basically admitted it to him without actually saying the words.

But he hasn’t gone running yet so maybe he doesn’t mind.

We find seats halfway up the stands, right on the fifty-yard line, which Dad says is the best view in the house. Our JV team is on the sidelines already, and I note how they’re a variety of sizes. Since the team is made up of mostly freshmen and sophomores, they’re all at different stages of growing, and some of them are short and slight, while others are tall and lanky, like my brother.

Row towers above most of them, and I watch as he stands next to one of his coaches, listening intently to whatever the man is telling him. He’s got those dark smudge marks under his eyes that I’ve never understood why they do that, his hands curved around the neckline of his jersey. He’s nodding along with whatever his coach is telling him, finally smiling at one point, and I hear a girl shout his name from the bottom of the stands.

“Row, I love you!”

Her declaration is followed by a bunch of giggles, and I share a look with Mom who just shakes her head.

“He has fans.”

“Of course, he does. He’s an excellent quarterback,” Dad says, his voice full of pride.

“I don’t think his fandom has anything to do with his football skills,” Mom says wryly.

I agree with her.

Once the game starts, I actually get into it. We have the ball first, and while I don’t fully comprehend what’s happening on the field, I can figure out a few things, and within minutes, our team has already run in a touchdown. The other team seems slower than ours, and they make a lot of mistakes. Dad is shouting at the top of his lungs with every play Row makes, cupping his hands around his mouth so my brother can hear him, I guess. He’s gone into fullon sports dad mode and it’s almost comical.

“He loves this,” Mom admits to me near the end of the first quarter. “I don’t think he ever expected to have a football playing son and he secretly lives for it. He’s so proud. Beau is most likely going to follow in your brother’s footsteps too. He’s very good. His first game is tomorrow.”

“Are you going back home tonight?” I thought they might stay for the weekend and I was looking forward to it.

“We have to so we can watch Beau’s game. I wouldn’t miss it.” Mom smiles, reaching out to brush a few stray hairs away from my forehead. “This is the time of year where your dad and I are on the go constantly.”

“I missed it all last year,” I say softly. That makes me sad, but there’s nothing I can do to change it, so I banish the emotion. “I’m sure it’s fun.”

“So much fun.” Music starts playing and Mom leans in, whispering in my ear. “How are you, sweetie? Is school going well? Do you like your classes? Where’s Iris? Are you two getting along?”

I pull back, smiling at her. “I’m good. School is going well and I like all of my classes, even the tough ones. Iris is with a couple of friends, but she said she’d sit with us for a while because she wants to see you guys. And we’re getting along great.”

“Good.” Mom cups my cheek, staring into my eyes. Hers are a vivid green and I’ve thought more than once how much I wish mine were green too, but Beau is the lucky one of the three of us to get her eyes. “I worry about you.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t help but always worry about you. I worry about all three of you. You’re all a piece of my heart, and I just want to make sure you’re doing well and that you’re happy.”

“I’m good, Mom.” I grab hold of her wrist and give it a gentle squeeze. “Please don’t worry about me.”

“And your brother? Should I be worried about him and his fangirls?”

I didn’t even know he had fangirls. Row and I aren’t talking much right now and I figured that was because he’s so busy with football. “I don’t think it’s a big concern.”

“If you say so.” Mom drops her hand from my cheek and faces forward, her gaze seeking out and finding Row right away. I find him too. He’s on the sidelines, his helmet clasped in his hand and his hair absolutely chaotic. He probably stinks. I don’t know how any girl can find him appealing in this moment. To me, he’s just my sweaty little brother.

“Hey, guys!” Iris calls as she walks up the steps, her arm above her head as she waves at us frantically. She looks absolutely gorgeous in the simplest outfit, and I wonder why she went to so much trouble applying all that makeup. She doesn’t even need it.

“Iris!” Mom yells, waving back frantically in return. “Come sit!”

My cousin squeezes in on the other side of me, and Mom practically shoves me out of the way to give Iris a hug. Once she lets her go, I squirm my way back in between them, turning to Iris. “Where’s Bronwyn?”

“She’s down there.” Iris waves a hand toward the bottom of the stands. “She’s got the hots for someone on the JV team. He’s a sophomore. I keep giving her shit for liking younger men.”

“Who is it?”

“Not your brother, so don’t worry.” Iris grins and pops the bright blue gum in her mouth, making me grimace. I hate when she chews gum. She’s so loud with it sometimes. “His name is Hartford.”

“Hartford?” Mom asks, leaning into our conversation. “Is that his last name?”

“Nope, his first name. It was his mom’s maiden name I think.”

Alarm flits across Mom’s face. I don’t think Iris notices it, but I sure do. “What’s his last name?”

“Morales,” Iris answers, punctuating her sentence with another popped gum bubble.

“Wait a minute. Is his mother Natalie Hartford?” Mom’s expression is downright horrified and even Dad is paying attention to our conversation.

“I don’t know. I think so?” Iris shrugs.

“Oh my God,” Mom breathes, turning to Dad. “It’s her.”

“Babe. Her son started last year. You didn’t put that together?”

“I don’t pay attention to the student roster. Why didn’t you ever mention it to me?” Mom’s tone is vaguely accusing.

“I’m sure I did. I wouldn’t let that tasty little morsel slip by you.” Dad smiles and Mom gives him a gentle shove.

“Who’s Natalie Hartford?” I ask Mom.

“Well, her name is Natalie Morales now. She married Eric Morales.” Mom is frowning. “She was my worst nightmare back in high school.”

“I don’t know if I’d take it that far,” Dad starts, but Mom silences him with a look.

“It’s true,” Mom tells me and Iris. “She made my life miserable there for a while.”

“I’m sure she regrets her actions,” Dad says like he’s trying to console her.

“Ha! I doubt it. That girl was a total bitch.”

I gape at my mother, shocked to hear her call this Natalie person a bitch. She rarely has bad words to say about anybody, and I suppose if she doesn’t like someone, she always keeps her opinion to herself.

Apparently not with this woman.

“Ah, come on now. Who got the last laugh, huh?” Dad leans in and kisses Mom’s cheek, but she pulls away from him, scowling.

“This isn’t a contest, Crew. I just—I haven’t had to think about her in a long time, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.” It’s as if realization dawns and Mom’s head starts swiveling this way and that, scanning the stadium. “What if she’s here right now, watching her son play? What if I run into her? I really wish you would’ve mentioned this to me sooner.”

“I didn’t think about it because Morales didn’t play last year. With the football team’s success, they gained a lot more players this season,” Dad explains.

“Hmm.” Mom crosses her arms, looking put out. “I don’t want to resort to violence if I bump into her.”

“Violence?” Iris chokes out on a laugh. “Come on, Aunt Wren. You would never.”

“I might,” Mom murmurs, surprising me.

It’s so interesting, seeing this different side of my mother I’ve never witnessed before. She’s feisty, with a determined jut to her jaw and anger simmering in her gaze. Mom rarely lets something ruffle her feathers like this, so this Natalie woman must be awful.

“If you do happen to see her, you’ll be polite like you always are and make small talk with her while mentally cursing her out the entire time. Don’t worry about it.” Now it’s Dad’s turn to soothe Mom and I can tell it’s working. Her body was completely rigid only seconds ago and now she’s visibly more relaxed, her shoulders lowering as the tension seeps out of her.

“You’re right. That’s exactly what I’ll do.” Mom nods, and this time she’s accepting of the kiss Dad delivers to her, right on the lips.

I turn away, shrugging at Iris who seems highly amused by the entire interaction. I can’t blame her. That was a wild moment to witness and shocking to see. But it was also a little refreshing, I can’t lie. Watching her get riled up about someone from her past.

Makes me think my feelings about Alana aren’t unwarranted after all. I’m always afraid of overreacting. My mother’s voice is often in my head when I’m in certain situations—how would she react? What would she do? I try to emulate her as much as possible, and I worried my anger and frustration with Alana was just me being petty. Even a little paranoid.

I had reason to feel betrayed. How can I be friends with her again after everything that’s happened? Not that she’s rushing over to reignite our friendship, but I wouldn’t put it past her if she and Silas are truly broken up. She doesn’t really have any other friends, and while I feel sorry for her, I don’t necessarily want her back in our fold either.

Sitting up straighter, I check the field just in time to watch Row make a spectacular pass, the ball landing in a receiver’s hands before the boy runs the ball into the end zone. The entire crowd starts cheering, including me, and I share a smile with Iris, proud of my brother.

Tonight is going to be a good night.