Page 11 of Game Changer

The traffic coming through now are probably those groups of people; those who are coming to watch the game are routed around the town to make sure traffic flows smoothly.

I must admit that I am feeling a bit off about not being there today as I sit here, sipping cocoa in my Knights’ jammies.

When I notice several G Wagons and other dark SUVs rolling by—not local—I only wonder if I’m missing something when I quickly realize I have freaking football FOMO.

I grab my remote to turn on the TV and hit the local news, but I don’t see anything. Then I hit TSN, knowing the biggest sports network is here today, and nothing is going on there, either.

“You’re spiraling, Sydney Sparks.” I sigh as I head over to the sink in the kitchen to clean up the machine and empty my cup, thinking maybe I need to lay off the caffeine if I plan to relax all day for the first time in months. Well, actually, it's been a year.

I need this day.

After filling my favorite cup with water and some cucumber slices, head to the couch, set the cup on a coaster, squat down, and pull the large white planner out from where I shoved it under the couch.

“Today is the day,” I say, settling back into the cushion to say a final goodbye to four years of my freaking life and the saddest surprise there ever was.

I open the album and see the date,February 14th.

Derek Franklin Clark and Sydney Marie Sparks.

I jump when I hear the door handle jiggle and quickly slam the book closed as it opens and in walks Liam.

“Heard you were trying to skip out on the game. That’s not happening.”

Shoving the album under the couch, I pout. “It’s one game.”

“Get your shit together, Sparky,” booms from behind me, and I turn to see my cousin, CJ, who’s never home, like ever. “We’re not going to do the whole back and forth bullshit, which will end the way it should—you throwing on a jersey, some leggings, a beanie, some killer boots that I have no idea how you don’t bust your ass in when you wear them in the damn winter, and you can paint your face in the vehicle. Let’s roll.” He nods toward the door.

I cross my arms and scowl at him.

“In three, I’m coming over there, tracking snow all over your floor, throwing you over my shoulder, and you’re going in your PJs.”

“I—”

“Two,” he warns.

The thing is, when CJ warns, there’s massive weight behind it.

“You’re such a bully,” I grumble, and I do it—heading toward the stairs to get ready.

“Make sure you take whatever you’ve got those locks rolled up in out of your hair,” he calls after me with a chuckle.

My cousins, Harper and London, are waiting for me when Liam pulls up at the gate.

CJ jumps out of the passenger seat, opens the door for me, waves his hand out, and smirks. “See you up there in a bit.”

“If I didn’t miss you, I’d tell you to F off,” I say as I climb out.

“You do know you’re old enough to say fuck now, right?” he quips, getting back into Liam’s vehicle.

“It’s colder than a Texan playing football in Central New York.” London hooks her arm through mine. “Let’s go.”

“What are you two doing?” I ask as Harper hooks hers through my other arm.

“Making sure you don’t run all the way back to the village.” She laughs, but it’s forced.

“What’s going on, really?” I ask as I notice the heightened security around the stadium. “Was there a threat or?—”

“The guys always think there’s a threat,” Harper says. “Works in this case. It brought CJ and Matthew home for the rest of the season.”

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