Page 76 of Golden Goal

"Oh no!" his dad exclaims with a feigned look of dismay, while Lincoln rolls his eyes in exasperation.

Watching this huge man act dramatically throws me for a loop. Lincoln is a carbon copy of his dad, but they couldn't be less alike. His dad's theatrical demeanor makes me wonder if Lincoln's brother takes after him, considering that Lincoln and his mom have matching personalities.

"It wasn't that rude," I chime in with a smile. "Of course, I can get you guys some tickets."

His dad grins triumphantly. "See, Linc? You need to be more like Sutton, laid-back and easygoing."

Lincoln and I exchange a bemused look at that utterly insane statement. Lincoln attempts to stifle his laughter but fails to contain it. His parents look at him questioningly, not comprehending the reason for his amusement.

Lincoln steps around the counter, circling his arms around me and pulling me close. "You nailed it, Dad. Sutton is super chill and laid back."

My face warms with embarrassment as his parents consider whether or not Lincoln is telling the truth. Julie's eyes twinkle as she observes us, taking in the playful dynamics of our newfound relationship.

To rescue me from any further embarrassment, Julie shifts the conversation, asking, "What do you two have planned for the day?"

"I need to work out, but after that, I figured we could walk around downtown and have dinner there," Lincoln responds.

"That sounds nice," Julie comments. "Don't forget to bundle up. It's going to be cold tonight."

"We will," Lincoln reassures her.

Just then, Ronan strolls into the kitchen, drawing our attention. He's shirtless, wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants, and his bare feet slap loudly on the tile floor. His hair sticks up in every direction, and his face wears a comically grumpy expression.

"No one woke me up for breakfast," he accuses. "I see how it is. Now that Sutton's here, I'm old news."

Julie pushes away from the counter, her coffee cup in hand, and walks over to Ronan. She stops to reach up and plant a kiss on his cheek. "You've been old news, Ro," she says loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Lincoln's dad chuckles and then stands, following Julie out of the kitchen, as if he can't help but follow her.

They are so sweet together, and I can feel their love in how they look at each other. The warmth in their eyes, the smiles that pass between them—it's a love I hope to have one day. I crave to have that connection with Lincoln, to share what they have.

“Will you guys sit with me while I eat?” Ronan's voice interrupts my thoughts, bringing me back to the present.

Lincoln squeezes me gently, a silent reassurance, before releasing his hold and taking the seat his dad just vacated, positioning himself next to me. I watch as Lincoln assesses the ragged state that his best friend is in, concern etched in his features.

“For sure, but don't take too long. We need to hit the gym soon,” Lincoln replies, his voice laced with care and understanding.

Ronan throws him a thumbs up before getting to work making himself eggs and toast, a welcome distraction from whatever might be bothering him.

As I sit there, in the warmth of their friendship and the easy camaraderie of the moment, I feel incredibly content right now. There is nowhere else in the world I would rather be. The sense of belonging with Lincoln and his friends fills me with happiness. This is where I want to be, where I'm meant to be.

CHAPTERTHIRTY

LINCOLN

In about an hour,the ball will drop, and I'll be welcoming the New Year with my girlfriend. It's strange, but I've never felt happier in my life.

My parents host a party every year, and this time is no different. My house, not overly spacious, is packed with our extended family and a horde of my parents' friends, creating a lively atmosphere.

I find myself in the kitchen, nursing a beer, as I observe Ronan and Sutton leaning over the island, devouring the chicken wing dip. Ronan's approach to dipping chips is unconventional and he ends up breaking them off into the dip, then plunging his fingers into the dip to retrieve the fractured bits. This prompts Sutton to scold him for being disgusting.

Prior to indulging in the food, Sutton made Ronan wash his hands, an action that he resisted valiantly. I'm not entirely convinced that Ronan has ever cared to wash his hands before eating. Nevertheless, Sutton emerged victorious in her hygiene crusade.

With my family around, I'm making a concerted effort to be well-behaved. But it's proving to be a challenge, especially with Sutton's presence. She's leaning over the counter, wearing a short skirt and black tights that end mid-thigh. I find it impossible to avert my gaze from the inch of pale skin peeking out between the lace of her tights and the hem of her skirt.

Eager to break free from the role of a passive observer, I down the last drops of my beer and gently place the empty glass on the counter. With determination in my step, I stride over to where my girl, Sutton, stands.

I slide in behind her, my left arm enveloping her waist, though I'm itching to push Ronan aside. However, the prospect of getting between him and his food feels like a risky choice.

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