Page 106 of Second Down Fake

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “According to the NDA I signed.”

“Are you supposed to be talking about that?” Becca asked.

“Probably not. James figured out I hadn’t read the thing and is hooking me up with a lawyer to go over the terms.”

“He should have done that in the first place. I would have told you that if you’d asked me. Instead, I spent two weeks thinking you were actually dating Diego,” she muttered. “Which was absolutely ridiculous.”

Cal reached across the seat and squeezed Becca’s knee. “I don’t know. Cassie and Diego made sense to me. And my fantasy football league absolutely gushed over the two of you. We started a side bet for if they’d televise your post-game kiss.”

“Please say you didn’t,” I groaned, sinking into my seat.

Becca gasped. “Wait, what post-game kiss? You’re not serious. Why didn’t you tell me.”

“You’re not in the league because you know too much.” He grinned at Becca before winking into the mirror at me. “And we certainly didn’t share those videos with Becca.”

“Thanks for doing the bare minimum, Cal,” I said through a forced smile.

“How many were there? I thought it was just one.” Becca demanded, eyes flitting between me and her boyfriend.

“One,” he lied. “Only one.”

“Liar,” she decided. “And it doesn’t matter because Diego is in a world of hurt this summer. I can’t wait to jack up my price and run him ragged through the mountains. Hell, I might make him compete in the Highland games.”

The visual of Diego in a kilt filled me with an unmanageable level of lust, and I redirected the conversation to Cal and Becca’s new life in Massachusetts instead. Solid ground that wouldn’t start a fight, not the up-in-the air uncertainty filling my chest. An uncertainty that wouldn’t go away until Diego called me back.

If he called me back.

The familiar twisty mountain highways eased away the anxiety wracking my body, and the distinct lack of cell phone service through most of the mountains made it pointless to obsessively check my phone for some reply from Diego. He’d call back and whatever he’d decided, I was fifty grand richer. And depending on what he said, I’d be a little wiser or happier.

By the time we reached the well-worn sign announcing our arrival to Franklin Notch, the conversation had meandered far away from the Norwalk Breakers and Diego and onto Christmas presents and plans for Becca and Cal’s brief trip home.

An early Christmas celebration with my family. Dinner with his. Lunch at the diner. Visiting friends. And then back home to their real life.

And once again, I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t have an apartment or a job or even a couch. But for the first time, that lack of stability bothered me. Made me sad. Made me wish for something more.

“Home, sweet home,” Becca smiled as we pulled in front of our childhood home. What my parents couldn’t provide in designer clothes or extravagant gifts, they made up for with a stable, loving home. Besides a new roof and a fresh coat of paint, the century old blue farmhouse hadn’t changed in decades. A birdhouse I built in high school sat in the front yard, and from the driveway, I could see the outline of the sunflower sun catcher on my bedroom window. Touchstones that reminded me that by coming back here, things would be okay.

“They couldn’t even wait to invite people over,” Becca muttered, jerking her head to the sedan parked in front of the house.

“Probably Uncle Ron. He got into parlay betting this season and needs some insider tips for the next New England game,” I teased.

She rolled her eyes. “In case he’s here for Breakers’ news, please remember that you’re under an NDA.”

“I feel like you’ll make sure I don’t forget.”

“I’m just saving you from yourself, sister.”

When our parents didn’t materialize on the porch, Cal stayed behind to unload our bags while Becca and I headed for the door. I paused at the bottom of the steps, rooting around in the mulched flower bed to find the fake rock my mom placed when Becca and I got locked out in grade school, unlatching the secret compartment, and taking the key.

“I can’t believe they haven’t gotten rid of that,” Becca sighed. “Everyone in the neighborhood knows about it.”

“All our friends, anyway.” I slotted the key into the lock and pushed the door open. “Mom! Dad! Your favorite daughter is home!”

“And she brought Cassie!” Becca yelled after me.

I elbowed her in the ribs, but she slid past me into the entry.

“We’re in the living room!” Mom yelled. “And we have company!”

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