Page 80 of Second Down Fake

I already had a suitcase in the trunk and drove straight to her apartment. Practice had let out early, so traffic was light, and I made it to her front door in less than fifteen minutes.

She stood outside the apartment building, wheeled luggage at her side. She’d tamed her hair with two braids and wore a long gray jersey dress that hugged her curves and made me wish we were going anywhere besides my mom’s house. I hopped out of the car and loaded her suitcase into the back beside mine before holding open the passenger door for her.

“How was practice?” Her eyes perused the length of me, an impish grin on her face as her eyes wandered over the dark black shirt that clung just a little tight across my chest.

“Good. Mostly game film and some drills. Nothing intensive. No one wants to get hurt before their weekend off.” And considering most of them were heading straight to the airport to jet off to exotic beaches and vibrant cities, I couldn’t blame them. Instead, I was dragging Cassandra to Mississippi. “You sure you want to come? There’s nothing to do. It’s a real small town.”

Cassandra waved a hand as she closed the trunk, her suitcase safely enclosed in the back. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never been to Mississippi before. Maybe I will fall in love with it and decide I never want to leave.”

“I doubt that.”

“Well, I won’t know until I check it out.” She rounded the car, setting her arm on the top. “Besides, if I’m in Mississippi, I can’t feel guilty about not picking up shifts at the bar.”

“No ghost tours this weekend?” I grinned.

“Nope, or else I might have stayed.”

She entertained me with stories about a picky dog-walking client while I navigated to the Norwalk airport. The familiar ritual of checking into the flight distracted me from the nervousness of introducing Cassandra to my family. Especially when our relationship wavered in this weird middle ground of friendship and dating.

Cassandra donned a sleep mask and burrowed into my side, snoozing throughout the flight. Of course, I didn’t mind. I rested my chin on the top of her head, inhaling cinnamon and spending way too much time thinking about our night together overlooking the fountains.

“So, are we getting picked up, or are we renting a car?” Cassandra asked in the tiny two-terminal airport over an hour from my hometown.

I grabbed her bag. “My stepdad and Mom are picking us up. He insisted after I said I’d cover the flight.”

“He sounds really nice.” She smiled warmly. Of course, Cassandra would find Paul delightful. She’d fall in love with his deep southern accent and his impossibly boring stories about driving a Mack truck for a living. And rather than spending time alone with her, I’d get trapped at the dinner table with them, telling stories around each other.

“I was thinking, maybe we could slip out for a night? Drive down to Biloxi and hang out at the casino?”

“You don’t want to spend the entire time with your mom?” The mild reproach tamped down any chance at escape.

Paul waited outside the terminal, a smile on his face and a giant “Welcome Home, Diego!” sign that made my cheeks burn. Mom stood beside him, beaming. She didn’t wait for us to exit, instead running to greet me with a painfully tight hug.

“My baby!” she yelled into my ear, squeezing my neck. “And Cassandra! I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. Let me get a look!”

She let go of me just as fast as she grabbed me, her focus entirely on Cassandra. Not that I could blame her. She held Cassandra’s shoulders, cocking her head and pulling her into a hug. “Gorgeous. I can see why Diego is absolutely smitten.”

I winced. “Mom, you know we’re not really?—”

She waved me off, still clinging to Cassandra. “I know, I know, but let me tell you, I never saw him kissing Zoey like that. Or Mel. Or what was that other girl? The singer?”

I pried Mom off of Cassandra, tamping down a rise of embarrassment that made me feel less like a fully functional adult and more like an annoyed teenager.

“Lana, I think,” Cassandra answered without a hint of shame or annoyance. Did I want her to be annoyed? “I’m Cassandra. It’s nice to meet you. Diego has only said lovely things.”

She lifted an eyebrow in my direction. “Well, isn’t that nice? Call me Marla, or Mom. And this is my husband, Paul.”

Paul offered a hand to Cassandra before placing her bag in the backseat of the car.

“Oh, does this have one of those back benches?” Cassandra bounced to the back of Mom’s station wagon, pulling open the trunk to find a row of seats and clapping her hands. “We had one of these when I was a kid. Becca never let me sit in the back. I hated being the youngest.”

Mom laughed. “We’ve had this old thing for ages. Diego took the bus throughout grade school, but my schedule lined up when he was in middle school so I could drop him off. He was so embarrassed. He’d sit in the back seat and race out before I could tell him bye.”

Cassandra laughed, biting her bottom lip. “Diego! You were one of those kids? I really can’t wait to hear all your Diego stories. He acts so cool and collected. I want to hear all the embarrassing stuff.”

My chest clenched, hoping Mom could keep at least a couple stories from Cassandra.

“Shouldn’t we get on the road? I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to hang out in the pickup lane.” I chucked my bag in with Cassandra’s and opened the passenger side door for my mom.

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