Page 22 of The Perfect Pass
She should’veseen this coming. If Jackson Knight hadn’t rolled into town and turned her professional life upside down, she would’ve. The blame for tonight rested squarely on his strapping shoulders.
Anyone who’d attended a single homecoming game anywhere in the great state of Texas was familiar with the tradition of homecoming mums. Short forchrysanthemum, a mum was basically a corsage on major steroids. It was a token of affection, usually given to a girl by her homecoming date. In recent years, parents and best friends had gotten in on the action, and now it wasn’t unusual to see girls at homecoming games with multiple mums pinned to their chests.
Decades ago, a homecoming mum probably consisted of a single, real chrysanthemum head, surrounded by a bow done up in school colors, with a few trailing ribbons hanging down. It might’ve had a little plastic football helmet tied to one of the ribbons or the recipient’s name spelled out in glitter letters along one of the smooth silk strands. But since everything was bigger in Texas, they’d grown larger and more elaborate over the years. Now the flowers themselves were silk and the embellishments attached to the ribbons could be anything from the traditional plastic footballs and bells to small teddy bears, other plushies or miniature goal posts. The sky was truly the limit. Sometimes the corsage was so large that it required a ribbon around the wearer’s neck to hold it in place rather than a humble safety pin. Mums on the more elaborate end of the spectrum contained multiple silk flowers, sometimes arranged in the shape of the state of Texas or, to Calla’s ultimate disgust, a giant bulldog paw—a big flower in the center, surrounded by four smaller flowers as the “toes.”
The possibilities were truly endless.
“Here you go.” Bailey handed her a silk chrysanthemum flower head mounted into what looked like a cardboard paper plate. “Go crazy. There are no rules. You know how nuts these mums get. Each work station is equipped with ribbons and trinkets, but they vary from table to table, so you might want to take a look around.”
Calla plucked a little plush bulldog stuffed animal from the pile of green-and-white paraphernalia on the table and used a hot glue gun to stick it in the center of the flower head. Then she tied a little green bow tie around the bulldog’s neck.
She regarded her work and took another sip of wine.Cute.This wasn’t too bad. Maybe after another glass or two of chardonnay, it might even be fun.
“Remember the mum Ethan gave me senior year?” Bailey asked with a laugh.
Calla searched her expression for any signs of heartache, but only found affection shining back at her from her friend’s soft brown eyes.
“I sure do. It had a football in the center of the flower with his name and number on it in silver glitter.” she said.
“And when you pressed the football, it said, ‘Go bulldogs.’” Bailey waggled her eyebrows. “Not to brag, but I’m pretty sure it was the first talking mum in Bishop Falls history.”
“It was also the gaudiest thing I ever set eyes on,” Calla deadpanned.
Bailey tossed a white bow at her and it hit Calla in the forehead. “Stop. You were known to wear a mum or two back in the day. I’m sure I have photographic proof somewhere.”
“You might want to frame it, then, because never again, sis,” Calla said with a laugh.
“Don’t tempt me. I might just do it and hang it on the wall at Huddle Up.”
Calla aimed the glue gun at her. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
“How’s everyone doing over here?” Marigold stopped by their table, smile brightening as she met Calla’s gaze. “Calla, we’re so glad you could join us tonight. Are you having fun?”
No,she wanted to say.This is a uniquely ostentatious form of torture.
But she couldn’t, because that would’ve been rude. And strangely enough, it would’ve also been a lie.
Her gaze flitted to Bailey and they shared a secret smile. They’d done it…they’d shared a memory involving Ethan as casually as if it happened all the time. Jackson had said his name out loud at that press conference, and then they’d had an entire conversation about him at the coffee shop the other day. Her brother’s name was beginning to feel natural on her tongue again, as if good memories could exist alongside the bad ones. Like nostalgia might not always feel like a knife to the heart.
“I am,” Calla said, aiming a warm smile at Marigold. “This is…nice.”
“Music to my ears! Honestly, there’s no way I could handle homecoming without a little help from the community. I owe you one.” Marigold grinned and adjusted one of the floral barrettes that held back her strawberry blonde hair. Then she grabbed a spool of white-and-green-striped ribbon, eyes dancing like she’d just had the greatest idea since sliced bread. “Do you want me to show you how todo the special diamondback braided ribbons that everyone loves so much?”
Beneath the table, Calla felt a subtle pressure on the tip of her toe. Bailey, no doubt. She’d just given her a warning to not say something snarky.
Am I really that bad?
Guilt gnawed at Calla’s insides. She was, wasn’t she? She didn’t want to be, though. Not anymore, anyway. Notcompletely. That had to count for something, didn’t it?
“Let’s do it,” she said and pasted on a smile like she’d been waiting all her life to learn how to make a diamondback ribbon braid.
Even though she didn’t have any idea what one of those even looked like.
* * *
“Come on, man. You’ve got this,” Jackson prompted. “You’ve got to keep on pushing, even when it’s hard. Champions aren’t born, they’re made.”
He was using his best, most encouraging coach voice. If the object of his little pep talk had been one of his players, he might’ve gotten some results. He wasn’t speaking to one of his students, though. He was talking to the freaking dog.
