Page 77 of The Accidental Text

I smile up at him. “I appreciate that.”

Chapter 21

“All in all, it was our best Drives for Dreams yet,” my dad tells the team at our weekly meeting.

Devon starts clapping and the rest of us join in, with a couple adding whoops and cheers.

It’s Monday, and we’re all gathered in the back of the shop, where 90 percent of the work we do at Cooper’s gets done. The whole company is here, all thirty-five of us. Behind the gathering sits a half-wrapped Corvette Stingray. The room smells of plastic from the vinyl and the faint hint of gasoline. Also, a distinct cheap cologne scent from someone standing not too far from me. My money is on Chad.

“Let’s give a round of applause to the person who made this all happen,” my dad says after the clapping dies down. “Chelsea, come up here.” He waves Chelsea over from where she’s standing toward the side of the room.

She walks up to the front and my dad puts an arm around her while we all clap. You can see the pride in his face as he looks at her, and Chelsea, although giving us her best trying-to-be-humble look, is loving every minute of this.

“Chelsea worked so hard and I couldn’t be more proud of her.” He beams. One of those big fatherly smiles. “Drives for Dreams wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you.”

I’m halfway waiting for him to call her Chelsy-bells like he did when we were younger. Devon was Devonion. I’m the onlyone he still calls by a nickname—Magpie—on a fairly regular basis.

“Yeah, Chelsea!” one of the shopworkers yells from the back of the room.

“Stay up here for a second,” my dad says. “Actually, Devon and Maggie, come up here too.” Devon and I go to stand by our dad.

I make eye contact with Dawson, who’s leaning up against the wall where all the shelving is. He smiles at me. It’s a dazzling smile … one that doesn’t make my heart skip quite as many beats as it used to. It’s like I can appreciate it without obsessing over it.

My dad takes a breath. “We usually give the proceeds to a variety of charities, but this year I thought we’d do just one.” He turns and looks at us with a wobbly smile, and I feel my heart do a little dipping thing.

He doesn’t even have to say it; I know what’s coming. I can feel the emotions building, tears pooling in my bottom lids, and that tickling sensation at the top of my nose as I try to fight it.

I wrap an arm around Devon, who’s standing next to me, and can tell he’s also fighting back tears. He reciprocates, putting his arm around me. He’s got his other arm around Chelsea.

“It’s a place that means a lot to us,” Dad continues, choking just a little bit on the words. “This year’s Drives for Dreams donation is going to the Holly Brain Tumor Center.”

I’m unable to fight the emotion and the tears come hot and fast. I feel so much in this moment. Like my heart is breaking but also bursting with joy. All at the same time.

The clapping starts up again, the whoops and cheers even louder as we all stand there, crying and smiling at everyone.

After the meeting ends and I’m back in my office, still choking up when I think of my dad making that announcement, I hear a knock on the wall outside my door.

“Hey,” Dawson says. “You got a minute?”

“Sure,” I say on a breath. His presence still does weird things to me, but they feel dampened today. When I told Chase on Saturday that I was taking a break from my crush on Dawson, I didn’t think my body would listen. It usually acts of its own accord around him. But today it seems sort of numb to it all. Maybe it’s all the emotions I felt earlier and am still feeling.

Dawson walks into my office, wearing those charcoal-gray coveralls again, Converse on his feet. He takes a seat in the black mesh guest chair opposite me. He leans back, weaving his fingers together and placing his hands in his lap.

“I know you can probably guess why I’m here,” he says.

Please don’t say Chad, please don’t say Chad.

“Chad,” he says. He chuckles. Maybe he realizes that’s all we talk about too? Or maybe he’s just laughing at the fact that he has to keep constantly talking to me about the guy.

“What did he do now?” Perhaps Dawson noticed Chad’s offensive cologne smell too.

He looks down at his hands and then back up at me. “I’m letting him go … today,” he says.

I give him a nod. “Okay, well, you’re the boss.”

“I guess I’ll need all the paperwork and formal stuff from you.”

“Right,” I say. “I’ll get on that.”

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