Page 63 of Just One Season
This all feels unreal. In a parallel universe, I’m bringing Ron to Mom’s for Thanksgiving, and we’re wedding planning. But in this one, I’m bringing a fake boyfriend home—I’ll have to fill Mom in on everything—and most likely upsetting my father by moving on from the man he so wants me to be with. A man more like him than I want to admit.
“Sure.” Kellen smiles broadly and it’s like the rising sun after the darkest night.
My stomach gently turns over when I think about bringing Kellen home. Even though it’s fake, it hits differently. It’s so personal.
“Any other concerns?” Harley says.
“I have one more topic.” Lachlan raises his hand.
“Of course you do,” Kellen mutters.
“And it involves adding another event.”
“But we just added one,” Kellen says.
“This is a democracy, not a dictatorship,” Harley says. “Let Lachlan speak.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Kellen says under his breath, and I laugh quietly. He rewards me with a sweet smile.
“The retreat is a month away.” Lachlan points at Kellen. “Thanksgiving is more than that. That’s too long.”
“So what are you suggesting?” Atticus asks.
“Home game. Lucy in Kellie’s jersey.” Lachlan grins.
The groupoooosandahhhhhs.
“I guess.” Kellen turns to me. “What do you think?”
“I’m okay with that,” I say. It’d be a huge thing to be in that setting as Kellen’s girlfriend. So public.
“And overall? Just do better,” Lachlan says. “More making out.”
“No, don’t touch my sister.” Atticus growls at Kellen.
“I think this plan specifically dictates I should touch her. Remember? We voted on it.” Kellen slowly lowers his arm from the couch to around my shoulders.
Atticus groans and shuts his eyes. Everyone else laughs, including me, but I love the feel of Kellen’s arm around me. I want to scoot closer, but I don’t.
And I don’t want to ask for a vote on it.
Even though we’re fake dating by committee, if I close my eyes and feel his arm around my shoulders, and remember the way he cleaned chocolate off my face, the way he held my hand, sat close to me on the hay ride… it almost feels real.
CHAPTER 18
A Hot Mess
KELLEN
Thursday, October 17
My shoulder crashes into the boards. I straighten and skate back into position quickly, ignoring the pain radiating down my arm.
This game feels out of control.
We’re in Dallas and getting our butts kicked. Score is only 1-0, but it’s pure luck it’s not much worse. The first intermission can’t come soon enough so we can regroup.
The other team is playing aggressively, and I can’t keep my head in the game. Normally, I can compartmentalize my thoughts while I’m playing. My mind is a house. I can shove stray thoughts in different bedrooms and lock the doors. They’re still there in the background, but I can focus on what’s happening in the main part of the house.
