Page 40 of Home Game

“I thought they were kidding with that shit,” she says, moving past me and opening her front door. She waits for me to enter behind her, so I timidly step onto the rustic wood floors and into a home that smells like pumpkin spice and popcorn.

“Oh!” a woman says as she steps from what I think is the kitchen to peer into the foyer.

“Mom, this is Wyatt,” Peyton explains.

Mom. Yeah, I figured that from the other night. They look so much alike other than the color of their hair. And I kind of think if Peyton lost the highlights, she’d practically be her mom’s twin. Well, younger twin. I suppose it’s more fitting to say daughter. I shake my head to clear my scattered thoughts as her mom wipes her hand with a towel and moves to shake my hand.

“Wyatt, it’s so nice to meet you finally. I’ve heard?—”

Peyton coughs and her mom snaps her mouth shut and glances in her daughter’s direction.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, ma’am,” I say.

“Oh, yeah . . .no.Don’t do that. I’m Nolan. Please, I’m begging you. Never say the word ma’am again. Like, ever.”

I chuckle and nod, noting that I now have two women who insist I use their first names. I think maybe my dad missed out on being progressive. Still, it’s going to be hard not to call them something formal.

“We’re just finishing up with the board meeting for the trip to nationals. You’re welcome to come in and grab a bite,” she says, nudging me toward the kitchen.

“Oh, thanks. But I have dinner in the car, and well?—”

“You have dinner in the car?” Nolan’s brow furrows and she glances at her daughter.

“His mom works a lot. And he just got done with practice.” It’s nice to have her make the excuses for me, but also, hearing it said out loud like that, the obvious void of my dad in the conversation cuts inside.

“Is Dad on his way? Do you know?” Peyton asks.

“I think it’s a late night. You know how they are when they get to talking.” Nolan rolls her eyes, then mouths, “Coaches,” to me.

“You don’t have to make this a thing, Peyton,” I plead. All of that bravado and hot-headedness I had about five minutes ago has turned into wanting to run out of here and join the golf team. I can’t possibly be the source of more strife for her dad. Not when all I want to do now is kiss her. I’m not going to have many chances to kiss her if I keep pissing off her dad like this.

“I’m not making it a thing. Andyoudidn’t make this a thing. Childish fools made this a thing, and it’s about damn time some of them felt consequences.” She’s fired up, and her mom’s interest is piqued in that way only an involved parent’s can be.

“Nobody needs to do a thing. I’m sorry I came here. I was just in my feelings and needed to rant about it to someone.”

While I’m doing my best to dismiss everything, Peyton is busy filling her mom in on the actual details. When she gasps and meets my gaze, I drop my chin to my chest.

By the time I look up, the shock seems to have faded. But now Peyton and her mom, who is married to my rival coach—the coach of the guy who lit my field on fire, no doubt—are making plans without me to take things up a level.

I grab the officer’s card from my pocket and flash it to them, and thankfully, it seems to get them to stop.

“It’s being handled. As best as things in this town are handled when it comes to football, I mean.” We all get silent for a moment, and I think they both understand the politics involved.

“Just maybe mention this to your dad,” I say when my eyes meet Peyton. “So he’s not surprised. And maybe if there’s a way that it didn’t come from me?” I shrug, already feeling a foot shorter around Reed, thanks to the hole I keep digging myself into.

Peyton nods, then leans into her mom’s shoulder, whispering something.

“Wait here. I’ll walk you out,” she says.

I agree, but my twitchy muscles are aching to sprint out of here before one more cheerleader peeks around the corner and giggles about something.About me. They are giggling about me.

I shake her mom’s hand one more time and pretend I don’t notice the knowing smirk on her face. The fact her daughter has talked about me didn’t get past me. I’d love to know what she said.

Peyton comes back after a few seconds, a salad bowl filled with popcorn and two cupcakes balanced on top. Rather than argue with her, I let her carry them to my truck as she walksme out. I presume she’s about to hand the treats to me as she sends me on my way for the night, but instead, she hops into the passenger side of my truck and buckles up. I pull the door open and gawk at her, kind of impressed with her audacity.

“What? If you’re not coming in for dinner, I’m coming out to eat mine with you. But if you don’t want my dad joining us again, I suggest you get in and drive.” She pinches a kernel of popcorn and tosses it at me. I catch it in my palm, then pop it in my mouth. It’s kettle corn. Sweet and salty. And amazing.Of course it is.

“Well, all right, then.” I slide into my seat, buckle up, and crank the engine as she eyes the takeout my coach’s wife brought me.

---