“That’s all the time I’ve got, guys. Thanks.”
Lucas and I are laughing when the interview ends. I can’t see my mom off camera, obviously, but I know she’s there. Whether she’s hugging him or giving him another lecture, I don’t really care. He needs both.
“Well,” Lucas says, planting his lips on my neck just below my ear. “I guess this means we can be seen in public after all.”
I close my eyes and curl my fingers in his hair. “I think we covered that in the lobby earlier. Remember?”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, kissing his way up my jaw. “But we didn’t do this.”
And then he kisses me in a way that makes me forget the lobby, too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Scottie
Iam so tired of my parents’ attention, I’ve seriously considered hiding under my bed for the last two days.
It’s like, hey, Mom and Dad, I love you and all, but I’m finally able to publicly date the man I love, and we still can’t get two seconds alone!
I’m over making out with him in private.
I want a Jumbotron kind of love.
But today is the last day of their weeklong vacation to Phoenix, and they’re leaving for the airport as soon as the game ends.
We’re all wearing Fischer jerseys today, but we’re also wearing Rodgers baseball caps—Firebirds caps with Jake’s number embroidered on the side.
The online frenzy hasn’t died down completely, but Jake’s press conference was so compelling, he’s more likable than he ever was with me.
And as much as I wish I could take the credit, that one was all on him. On penalty of death from my mother.
I fit in a bit of work before the game and am on my way to meet up with my parents in the stands when I take a detour to the locker room. I shoot off a text, not crazy enough to actually go in.
A moment later, Jake comes out, standing only a few feet from the entrance.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
We look at each other for a second, all the things we could say taking up all the space between us.
Then I step forward and wrap my arms around him.
He pauses for a split second, then his arms come around me, and he holds on.
“This is going to be terrible for the media narrative,” he says into my hair.
“Screw the media,” I say. “I’m having a moment with my brother.”
His arms tighten.
We stay like that longer than I planned. Long enough that one of the guys clears his throat somewhere behind us, and another one says something low that makes a few of them laugh.
When I pull back, Jake’s eyes are doing the thing they do when he’s feeling something he doesn’t have words for.
He tucks his cap on and gives me a real smile—not that cocky grin he’s started using with the media. “Give your parents a hug for me. They’re leaving in the top of the seventh, right?”
I nod. “They’ll be at the season opener in a couple weeks, though.”
