Page 83 of The Longshot

“Well, don’t be too sad.” He’s already suckered Chelsie in. “Next time I see you, I’ll be sure to get you one. I’m the one who makes them, after all. How does that sound?”

“That sounds amazing!” Georgie’s excitement is practically through the roof at this point. Little does Chelsie know that the kid’s a chocoholic. “Thank you, Chelsie. You’re the best!”

She is, isn’t she? I can’t help but agree as she straightens her spine and flashes me a tender look.

God, how did we end up here?

Better yet, how did I end up with her?

“You’re such a sweet girl, Chelsie.” Mum is close enough that she places a hand on her arm. “Thank you so much.”

“It’s my pleasure, really.”

Mum pulls back with a comforting nod as she passes some more food down the table. I’m the first to grab it. “So, tell us more about you, Chelsie. Do you go to school?”

Mum’s mention of a touchy subject prompts Chelsie’s once full smile to subtly lose its spark. I can feel my chest tighten as a consequence.

“I do,” Chelsie’s voice lacks the confidence it once had. “I’m just uh—on a break right now. I needed some time to reset… relax, if you will.”

“Breaks are good,” Dad is thankfully quick to agree with her plan. Perhaps he, too, picked up on her shift in demeanor. They say the Wilkinson men have always been observant, or we’ve just been around women enough to know when something is off.

“You know, Chelsie.” Dad gestures his fork in my direction. “We’re always telling this one here to take a break. But he’s always pushing himself. He hasn’t stopped since he was twelve, you know. I don't think there’s been a single weekend where he hasn’t played footie.”

“That’s how you get to where you want to go, Dad,” I remind him like I always have. “That’s how I’ve gotten to where I am today.”

He playfully brushes me off with a wave of his hand. My parents have always supported my passions, but they often worry that I’m working too hard. Deep down, I know I am—but frankly, I have no other choice. I’m in my prime. I have to work hard because I know I can’t play football forever. My body has an expiry date, and for some, Coach included, you never know when that day might come.

So, as long as I’ve got my health and this sport continues to bring me happiness, I won’t stop working full steam ahead because nothing is more important to me than making sure the people at this table are okay. I look over at Chelsie as I run that thought back through my mind.

No one is more important.

Chelsie has fit into our group… our family so seamlessly that as a pleasant quiet falls amongst us, I’m left basking in the thought that there’s nothing more powerful than having the people you love embrace the person you’re starting to fall in love with…

Fall in love with.

Shit—I’ve never actually allowed that thought to fully come through, but now that it has, I don’t regret it. With every passing second this week, I’ve only grown more entranced by Chelsie. Marveled by the little details that make up who she is.

Like the way she’ll accidentally snort if she’s laughing too hard. How creases will form around her eyes when she’s smiling so bright. The way that even when her face is full of a frown, I know that a single joke will break her free from it. It’s the moments where I start to unconsciously recognize that her voice goes up an octave when she’s embarrassed, down an octave when she’s sad, or raspy when we’re mid-kiss.

It’s these little things that I hold onto when it comes to her—and above all else, it’s the way I’ve come to learn that she wears her heart on her sleeve. A sleeve I’m as determined to protect as I am to continue to get to know.

“I have a question,” little Darcy’s voice speaks up as she kneels up on her chair so that she can see above the table.

“You do?” Mum runs her hand over her forehead, brushing her fringe away from her delicate little face. “What’s your question, sweetheart?”

“Chelsie…” Of course the question is directed towards her. “Are you Gary’s girlfriend?”

The room goes silent.

Leave it to Darcy to ask the one question I know has been at the forefront of everyone’s mind. Mum’s been giving me the look. Dad’s been giving me the staredown. Hell, even Georgie’s been giving me an agreeable headnod.

I mean, to me, the answer to that question is obvious. Although we haven’t had a chance to talk about labels, Chelsie and I… we’re together—we’re exclusive. It’s only her. It’s only ever going to be her?—

“We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend.”

What?

The blood rushes to Chelsie’s cheeks as she shies back into the chair and murmurs out those five words.

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