Page 85 of Love is a Game

But it takes a bit to shut down Pen’s skepticism as we leave the school grounds.

“Are you sure you didn’t feed all that stuff to Finn?” she ponders suspiciously.

“Truth?” I shove my hands in my pockets. “I may have had some influence over Mom’s topic choice. But no, Finn’s grand finale was all him. Quite persuasive, don’t you think?”

Pen smiles, but typically deflects.

“I’m surprised how fun it was hanging with those kids. That was really something different. Do you think it’s sad we only get to hang out with adults now?”

I glance at her. “It does get a bit limiting, I guess.”

“Yeah. Like maybe I should have other interests besides myself?” Pen considers. “My life is actually rather self-involved now that I think about it. Work, my designs, doing yoga, planning my outfits, my decor. Gosh, even Mom had an interest beyond herself. All the time she dedicated to that shelter—it had an impact.”

“Very introspective thoughts there, Pen.” I nod. “Perhaps we should move on to the next challenge? A change of scenery that will definitely make you feel like a free-spirited teenager.”

She groans. “You mean you’ve planned more of this stuff? What’s next? A liturgical dance challenge at the Arts Center? A knitting circle at the aged home?”

“Nope, this one’s just for you and me. You can drive, since I caught a lift here with Mom. But first, you have to guess the location.”

Pen wrinkles her brow as we get into the car. “Fine. Let me have it.”

I buckle in, then drop the clue: “Where the stone speaks.”

“For goodness’ sake, Tuck!” She throws up her hands. “How am I supposed to…” Her words trail off as realization dawns. A slow smile spreads across her face. “Okay, fine. I got it.”

We head out of town as golden hour approaches—the sun dipping low, sheening everything in its finest glow. When we pull off onto the old dirt path, the past is waiting for us.

Sure, the trail is more overgrown than I remember, branches clawing at our arms, brambles snagging at our pants…Pen curses when a thorn catches her clothing. But then we push through the last of the brush.

And—there it is. The clearing. The boulder. Our mark.

Pen steps forward, brushing her fingers over the weathered scrawl.

“No guts, no glory.” She shakes her head. “Not quite as poignant as it felt when we immortalized it.”

“‘If found, don’t snitch’has stood the test of time, though,” I point out.

She laughs. “So—you game?” Kicking off her shoes, she cocks a brow at me.

“Never doubt me, Pen.” I peel off my shirt and toss it aside. “Ladies first.”

“Ha! That’s what you always said. And don’t think I didn’t know it was just so you could perv on me as I dived in.”

I smirk. “You wound me.”

But she’s already moving, already shedding the years along with her clothes, the setting sun painting her silhouette bronze. And just like that, we’re seventeen again—reckless, unfiltered, unafraid.

She takes a running start and leaps. A splash. A gasp. Then her laughter rings out across the water.

I don’t hesitate.

I follow.

Chapter 26

Penelope

The house is officially mine.

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