Not sure what you expect to come of all this, but fair warning…
Since you’re stepping your game up, I’m thinking it’s time I do the same.
Sleep tight, #GoldenCrew.
Later, peeps :)
—P
Chapter Seven
West
Blue clutches a store-bought key lime pie, my hand settles on her hip, and we stare at Coach’s front door with practiced grins plastered on our faces. We gave each other pep talks the entire time we dressed and during the ride over, now all we need is for things to go exactly as planned.
Light, easy conversation.
No veering into forbidden territory.
None of Pandora’s bullshit.
The door swings open. “Well, aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes,” Meg says, her southern drawl reminding me of Mom’s family in Louisiana.
“It was so sweet of you to invite us over.” Blue presents the pie to Meg, only for Meg to immediately shove it into Coach’s arms. All so she can bring Blue into a tight hug. Then, a few seconds later, her attention shifts toward me.
“I swear it, West Golden, you get taller and broader every time I lay eyes on you. Is that even possible at your age?”
Laughing, I lean in and kiss her cheek as she hugs my neck.
“Not sure, but it’s good seeing you again, Mrs—” A stern side-eye has me retracting my statement. “Good seeing you,Meg.”
The harsh look she aimed at me fades into a smile. “That’s more like it. None of thisMrs. Wellsnonsense. You two are family.”
“Then how about you let them come in off the porch, honey,” Coach Wells says, drawing a laugh out of Meg when she realizes she hasn’t invited us inside yet.
“Oh, dear. I suppose you’re right. Come in, you two. Make yourselves at home. Kick your shoes off on the rug, then come have a seat in the dining room. Dinner’s just keeping warm in the oven.”
She leaves us with Coach and disappears into the kitchen.
“I swear that woman gets so excited when we have company. Probably because Kasey hardly makes it home to visit these days.”
That name nearly throws me off my game, but I remember what Blue and I rehearsed, remember how we promised to pretend being here is simple and easy.
“Well, we’re happy to have a home-cooked meal,” Blue chimes in. “I’ve been so busy at the center it feels like all we’ve had is takeout lately.”
“Nothing wrong with that. I’d have pizza once a week if my wife would let me,” Coach says. He leads us into the dining room where a set of white plates trimmed in pink flowers are set out for us.
“Not with that high cholesterol of yours,” Meg calls out from the kitchen, and I smile when Coach rolls his eyes.
“I swear she’s got the hearing of a damn bat,” he grumbles, but even in his complaining, the love between him and Meg is obvious.
As if she just heard me think her name, Meg hurries into the room carrying a platter of meatloaf still steaming from the oven. Coach rises from his seat, and a few seconds later, he comes back with a bowl of mashed potatoes in one hand, and a gravy boat in the other. Meg doubles back for the broccoli and dinner rolls, then takes her seat beside Coach as Blue and I begin fixing our plates.
“Everything looks great, Mrs…Meg.”
I smile when she playfully narrows her eyes at me, then she winks as she places a slice of meatloaf on Coach’s plate.
“Thank you,” she drawls. “The meatloaf is my grandmother’s recipe. I tried for years to get Kasey to let me teach her to cook, but she never wanted any parts of it. That girl doesn’t have a domestic bone in her body.”
