Page 26 of No Place Like Home

Thousands of dollars, though?

I put on a smile when I faced Emma. “I just got bored and added some decals on it.”

Emma looked at me, then at the hoodie, but seemed to believe the lie.

“You know where everything is. If you need something, just call me. I’m going to run home before we go over to Freya’s.”

“I thought Dex’s parents had your kids?”

Emma waved and started to walk out of the shop.

“Mrs. Hendrix, are you running home to get it on?” I shouted.

Emma turned to glare at me with a blush on her face.

She gave me a soft smile when I grinned at her, then ran to her car.

“Isaac, how’s it going?” I waved at the cook, who was on the other side of the diner counter.

He gave me one of those head nods. I knew it would be pretty empty today; it was easy money. I could finally upgrade my laptop. People thought I could have whatever I wanted because they thought Juliet felt pity for my sister and me. The truth was, I paved my own way. I didn’t like to take handouts. The money Juliet gave me for college, I’d been paying back. I knew she wouldn't take it, so I added it to Rosie’s bank account.

My sister was lucky to have everything I wished I would have had.

A wave of sadness rushed over me. I looked at the coffee shop and marveled at how much it had changed. It was a diner now, but I didn’t think I could ever call it anything other than the coffee shop. I remembered working here. I remembered the times Q made me laugh. The only times I was happy were between these yellow walls and with my sister.

Picking up the remote, I turned on the television and put the game on.

“Isaac, make us some fries.”

He gave me a thumbs-up.

I sat on the counter while the commentator talked football mumbo jumbo. I knew that Quincy was on the red and gold team; that was as far as my knowledge went.

Gripping the edge of my sweater, I couldn’t help but stare at the holographic dandelions. I never wore this hoodie outside the house. To be honest, I didn’t know why I did today. My sweater was one of a kind, of that I was sure now, and I guessed I should acknowledge it or something. I pulled out my phone and made my way to his name. I hadn’t used his number. Honestly, I didn’t know why I’d saved it when Freya had given it to all of us after he had gone pro. By then, we most definitely weren’t friends.

Me: Good luck—Jessa.

It wasn’t like Quincy and I talked. Not when the sweater got here, and not after. When the bell chimed, I was going to jump off the counter, but stopped when I noticed the players started to come out. My stomach grew giddy with anticipation. Don’t ask me why, since I didn’t know the answer myself. I watched player after player come out. He was tall. Of course I knew that, but through the TV, he looked majestic. His shoulders were broad—probably the shoulder pads. When they showed him from the back, I knew no amount of padding gave him a firm ass like that. He was holding onto his helmet with one hand as he walked. His face was serious, but I could see a small gleam in his eyes even through the screen. He loved it on that field. There was a little scruff on his face, and my stomach did a funny turn. I was coming down with something, right?

“Ooooh, the game is starting. Isaac, get me a burger.”

My head snapped toward the newcomer's voice: Frankie, who owned Franny’s, our “fancy” restaurant in town. He grabbed a stool and dragged it toward where I was sitting.

“You closed shop?” I asked him.

“Girl, it's dead today. No one will stop by until after the game.” He paused and stared at me, his eyes going to the QH on the left of my chest, then to the dandelions down the sleeves. “Make me a coffee won’t ya? You know how to pack a punch. No one makes ‘em like you.”

I got to work on Frank’s coffee as I watched the players line up for the national anthem. Watching Quincy on TV in a stadium filled with fans hit me with how completely different our lives were. He was adored by millions, and I was here in a small town that wasn’t big enough to hide the shame I carried with me.

The game carried on, and even though I had no idea what the hell was going on, I couldn’t stop watching Quincy. Sure, he’d always been good-looking, but looking at him do what he loved, the dominant way he threw a ball…damn, he was beautiful. The way he carried himself, his posture, it was the way he knew who he was that made him appealing to me. Surely not his scruffy jaw or his dark skin that looked silky. Definitely not the way his green eyes looked fawned by dark, curly lashes.

I wanted to bang my head on the counter as the thought crossed my mind. Yeah, something was wrong with me. I was probably coming down with a cold.

Sell the sweater. It's making you act crazy.

* * *

When I made it home,I sighed in relief when I noticed Blake had cleaned up after his friends. Not that he was a slob, but he didn’t usually do everything right away, and I ended up cleaning for him.

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