I laugh and think about my little conversation with Lucca just four days ago. “Yeah, well, you might be right. After all this time, it’s a hard habit to break.”
“But if anyone can do it, it’s you.”
“So, you want to talk now?” I say, wondering if I’ll be earning myself a cold shoulder or a lecture. “No more avoiding Roman?”
Stella sighs and peers up to the largest house I’ve ever seen. “ItisThanksgiving.”
That makes me laugh. “Here, let me take that,” I say, reaching for the casserole. My fingers brush hers, and my mind wanders back to the girl I knew so long ago. Stella Everly was always sweet and joyful. But something happened on her fifteenth birthday. The girl changed from Brice’s funny little sister to something more mature, something beautiful.
She grew into her gangly limbs. Her braces came off. And she got contacts.
The woman has only gotten better with time.
“What if you smiled today?” she says, reaching up to fix the collar of my polo shirt.
“I smile,” I say, and it comes off grumbly.
Stella wrinkles her nose, her eyes roaming from my head to my chin. “You really don’t. Not in public.” She sets both hands on her hips, still studying me. “And maybe when someone talks to you, you could give them an actual answer instead of a grunt.”
“I don’t?—”
“You do. But especially with them.” Her head arches to the side, directing to the house full of Red Tails. “They’re trying. I’ve seen it. They want to call you friend. Try talking to them like you would have—once upon a time.”
I blink, goosebumps rising on my forearms. “You think I can?” I say, only because it’s Stella.
“I know you can,” she says. “More importantly, you need it.”
“Fine. I’ll smile,” I say, and the words fill me with physical discomfort. “And talk. And you?—”
“This isn’t my team,” Stella says, on the defense.
“And you’ll do the same,” I say as we step onto the front stoop of Will Baxter’s home.
Her chest rises and falls with one big breath. “Fine.” Her eyes narrow, and she lifts both hands. The woman’s fingers graze my neck as she adjusts my collar once more. I’m defenseless with this casserole dish in my hands. She can do what she wants with me. And she does, combing her fingers through my hair at the nape of my neck. Her gaze roves from my collar to my nose, to my eyes, to my mouth. Stella presses one finger to my lips.
My mouth parts with her touch, turning up in question. “What was that for?”
“Just wiping away that scowl. Now you’re ready.” With that, she turns to the tall, dark wood of the Baxter’s front door and knocks.
The door swings open and Alice Baxter—Will’s wife, who isn’t much older than me—stands in front of us. “Roman, you came. Jet said you’d be here, but I wasn’t sure.” She doesn’t say this unkindly, just matter-of-factly. Her uncertainty is valid. “I’m glad you made it. And this is?”
“Oh.” I shake my head, forgetting that not everyoneknows about Stella. I also tell myself tosmile. I promised Stella. It might be robotic, but I do it. “This is my …wife.” Wow. I’m not sure I’ve called Stella that outside my head. “Stella.” I nod in her direction, as I am still holding a pan of green beans. “This is Alice Baxter. She and Will own the team.”
Stella chokes—on nothing. We haven’t eaten anything yet. Still, the woman is coughing as she crosses the Baxter’s threshold. After a minute, she swallows and gives Alice a forced grin. “Swallowed wrong,” she says. “It’s nice to meet you.” She peers back to the front stoop, giving me the smallest of glares, and whispers only for me, “I expected them to be old. Like ancient rich people.”
I smother a laugh, shrugging at her assumption.
“We’re happy to have you,” Alice says. She waves her fingers at me, still on the porch. “Roman, let me take your dish. Come inside.” Alice reaches for the casserole in my hand, and I gladly give it up, stepping into the house next to Stella. “Look!” Alice says. “You two found the mistletoe.” She grins, her eyes bouncing up above us in this entryway.
“Wow. Look at that.” Stella’s chuckle is forced. I think she might start choking again if I don’t act quick.
I press my hand to the small of her back and dip my head to hers, pecking the corner of her mouth. Her skin is soft and sweet, and she’s kind of like breathing in a garden. One tiny peck and I can’t shake the feel of her.
Stella’s chest rises and falls with a breath. She peers ahead with wide eyes where the entryway opens to a grand stairway and vaulted ceilings. The Baxter’s living room is in view, where we can see several of my teammates socializing.
Alice walks ahead of us, leading the way.
“You okay?” I ask.
