“Beginnings are always more fun thanendings.”
“More flower pot wisdom?” he teased. Ever since she’d opened the nursery, The Flower Pot, Mom was a veritable fountain of advice on anything that grew: plants, grass, children, love. It was like she’d been in a seed all those years she was married to Sam and when she finally found a safe place to plant herself, her personality burst out like the petals on a peony. London was still getting used to this woman. He loved her, but he didn’t know her growingup.
Mom threatened him with the water, and he backed away quickly. She wasn’t really trying to soak him, just keeping the conversation light. He appreciated her efforts. “The beginning of a relationship is like planting a seed. There’s so much hope for that seed that any progress, no matter how small, is celebrated. Once the plant is full-grown, the fact that it blossoms is often taken forgranted.”
“Hey, Mom. Why was Yoda such a goodgardener?”
She poked him in the side. “Because he had a greenthumb.”
“Yes.” He dropped his arm over her shoulder andchuckled.
“You should talk to her. You two planted a seed and never saw itgrow.”
“I can’t call her. She’s superfamous.”
Mom laughed. “You’resuper famous. Have your people call her people and you can do lunch—isn’t that how it’sdone?”
“I have no idea,” he mused. He’d dated several recognizable women before, but none of them on Maia’s level of fame. She probably lived in a gated community with an armed guard at the front door and shaded windows to keep the paparazzi from looking in. “Anyway, I have the charity date tonight. I should focus onthat.”
“Who’s the luckylady?”
“AnnaCardoniva.”
“Prettyname.”
“Pretty lady.” She was a five-foot-seven blonde with eyelashes as thick as caterpillars. Normally, he’d be looking forward to showing her the town. He needed to get his head on straight. He kissed his mom on the top of the head. “Mind if I take off? I want to get ahaircut.”
“Go. I don’t need you drowning my plants. Maybe this lady will take your mind off ofMaia.”
“Maybe.” He pulled the green apron over his head and folded it up as he walked out back where his truck was parked. He climbed in, letting the heat soak into his muscles. Off-season workouts would start soon. He felt excellent. Strong. No player ever left a season feeling a hundred percent. They all had weak knees, sore ankles, tired shoulders, or muscle strain. He appreciated the time to let his body heal, but not being busy was messing with hishead.
He stared down at the console and a memory clouded his vision. A happy memory, a planting memory. He was hiding behind the stage, way in the back where the old props were stored. The place was an accident waiting to happen with giant Easter Island heads toppling into Main Street River City building fronts. It was the perfect place tohide…
London leaned his head against the cold pipe, not even caring that no one had cleaned it for a decade. The dust and dirt rubbed into his forehead like sand stuck under hishelmet.
The door creaked open and someone entered. It had to be a girl. No guy had such a light step. He peeked around the rack of circus costumes and watched Maia turn in a slow circle. She blew her bangs off her forehead and planted her hands on herhips.
He hadn’t spoken to her since the homecoming game. Not that he hadn’t noticed her in the hallway. Every day between fifth and sixth period, they crossed paths. She was surrounded by thespians and tailed by that guy who always had a ukulele. And London traveled with a pack of linemen. But their gazes would cross all of that and still connect for five whole seconds. He knew because he’d counted them one day—wondering if time slowed down, because that’s what it felt like when Maia looked at him, like he had all the time in the world to stare into her deep browneyes.
He could use some of that time right now. Without thinking through the consequences, he stepped out of the shadows and whispered hername.
Shescreamed.
He put both hands in front of him. “It’s me.Relax.”
“What are you doing in here?” She pressed her hands against her chest. A vein right above her collarbone pulsedquickly.
He turned his face away, hiding his right eye in the shadows. “Hangingout.”
“More like hidingout.”
“Maybe.” He lifted ashoulder.
She moved her hands to her belly as if that’s where her courage came from and she was gathering it to talk to him. “Why?”
He closed his eyes for a minute. He was tired. So tired of hiding in plain sight. Just once, he wanted someone to see the truth. He couldn’t bring that to light—but this wasn’t that, and he refused to lie to Maia. The look in her eyes, when he’d dropped that kiss on her out of the clear blue sky, was a look he’d never seen before. It filled him up, inspired him to do better, be better, and still gave room for him to fall on hisface.
He turned so she could have a better view of hisshiner.
