Page 94 of Matched By My Rival
“Is that it?” Grandpa asked, slowing the car to a crawl as we approached the unassuming front of Tracks with its beer signs in the window, dim and lifeless during the day, rather than the neon bright invitations they were at night.
“Yep. You’ve now seen all of my exciting life.”
“I doubt that,” Grandma said.
“Yeah, judging by the way you’ve been checking your phone, there’s a big piece of your life we’re not seeing,” Chelsea said with a smirk.
The brat. Now that she had a boyfriend, she thought she should meddle in my love life. I shot a glare her way, but she was unfazed. Big sisters were the worst.
“Do you have a girlfriend, honey?” Grandma asked. “I’d love to meet her!”
I shook my head. Chelsea had no idea what she’d started. “How about we do some shopping?” I pointed to a cute boutique a few doors down, hoping it would distract them.
“Oh, look at that purse in the window,” Grandma said. “It does look nice. Pull over, Roy.”
Grandpa put on his blinker and puttered over to the curb, making a production of parking that made me and Chels smile at one another. Jackson leaned in, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle and shake her head. I watched them closely—until Jackson gave me a knowing look and nod of approval. As if he knew I was assessing whether he deserved my sister, and he was more than fine with it.
We all climbed out and headed for the shop. Chelsea fell back to keep pace with me when I tried to lag behind the group. “You dodged that question, but we’re not done with the subject. You’re different.”
“Different?”
“Happier.”
I snorted a laugh. Happier? I’d been stressed as fuck and worried about my relationship with Parker all day. And Chelsea thought that passed for happier?
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Just… You don’t read me as well as you think you do.”
“Really?” She cocked her head. “You’re still simmering with rage over the team? Grieving for football? You haven’t brought it up once today.”
“Okay, so maybe I’ve moved on,” I said. “That doesn’t mean I’mhappy.”
“I didn’t say you were happy,” she snarked. “I said you were happier,as in less cynical and jaded. You’ve smiled today. Laughed. You telling me you’re not in a better place than you were over winter break?”
“No, I am.” That was thanks to Parker, I realized. Thanks to letting go of my grudges and misplaced blame. And maybe a little thanks to me too, and my work on the After Sports project. I’d found some purpose, found that life went on even without playing a sport I loved.
And maybe that’s what Parker had been trying to tell me too. His purpose was larger than his position on a football team. He wanted more. And who was I to question that?
Bells chimed over the door as we entered the boutique, drawing the attention of the shopkeeper. She smiled. “Good afternoon.”
“Hello,” Grandma said. “You’ve got a cute place here.”
“Thank you.” The woman, whose nametag said Claire, came around the counter and began to give Grandma a tour of the store and all its merchandise. I wandered the aisles, checking out funky candles and funny magnets—including Haymakers with slightly menacing grins. Farm machinery made for a weird mascot, but Hayworth was committed to the idea.
Eventually I came to a small cooler section that contained bouquets of flowers. A sudden urge struck me to send Parker flowers. He’d be busy with the game tonight, but he’d see them when he was done. And I could write him a message, let him know I wasn’t the asshole I’d seemed.
“See something you like?”
Claire stood at my shoulder, ready to help. I hesitated. Buying a bouquet would only make my family more curious about my dating status. But did that matter? Parker was more important than having to explain myself.
“I was thinking about getting something for my…” I swallowed. “But I don’t know if he likes flowers. Maybe it’s a bad idea.”
Chelsea turned around, eyes wide. Shit.
“He?”
I shrugged. Maybe if I acted like it wasn’t a big deal, it didn’t have to be. I didn’t want to make a production of coming out, but I didn’t want to keep Parker a secret from my family either. “Parker Reed.”
