As if it’s no big deal, he says, “Cade told me.” One bite in, Andy moans, loud and indecently. The family beside us halts mid-chew to stare at him. “Apparently, the Pilots come here after practice. As they were leaving, he said you’d like that one and bought our lunch.”
Cheeks warm and feeling giddy, I replace my snarky message with something nicer.
Me
Thank you for the cookie
After a moment, his name appears.
Cade
Thank you for being you
Chapter Twenty-Two
According to Google, I’meither having an identity crisis or low blood sugar. Jury’s still out.
I haven’t had a moment of peace since arriving in Atlanta on Sunday. Every second has been stuffed with practice, interviews, media coverage, and preparing for the biggest game I’ve ever played in.
And I need to play like my career depends on it. Because it does.
“Cade?” Mom peers into the bathroom. “Is everything okay?”
I loosen the purple tie around my neck and toss it into the sink. “All good, Ma.”
With a disbelieving lift to her brow, her eyes drop to my discarded tie. “I agree. No tie needed. You look red-carpet ready.”
The lavender linen jacket blazes against my skin, lush and impossible to ignore. After a few days of no luck with outfits, Shay added me to a group message with the most fashionable person we know. Within an hour, Adri was at my house with color swatches, fabric samples, mood boards, and reference photos. In five days, she created my dream suit.
The tie was my idea, but Adri was right. It doesn’t work with my T-shirt.
Reaching up, Mom adjusts my jacket’s collar. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I can be.” I press a kiss to her cheek. “Sorry for hogging the bathroom.”
“Never apologize for hanging out with me. It’s like the old days. I’m going to get dressed. Vi’s watching cartoons.”
Back in the living room, I drop onto the couch and grab my phone. A blurry photo of Mallory, Adri, Jo, Kenneth, and Nan crammed into my minivan lessens the tightness in my shoulders. I offered to fly them to Atlanta, but a road trip was too cool to pass up. By the looks of it, Mallory is acting as chauffeur, which is why Kenneth has been blowing up my phone.
Mr. Kenneth Edwards
If we get stopped for speeding, blame Eddie
She’s worried we’re going to be late
90 in a 75. Send help
I’m so proud of you
The switch from fear to sentimental is jarring but appreciated.
Me
What for? I haven’t even stepped onto the field yet
Mr. Kenneth Edwards
I’d be proud even if you never did. See you tonight
