Page 104 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

The temperature in the room drops another degree.

“Okay,” I cut in. “Let’s not test that plan before breakfast is over. Dad and I are going to put on the game. You okay in here?”

Mom nods. “Gemma and I have it handled.”

I push back from the table, already planning how to keep the peace.

And when Lucy comes back out, I’ll make damn sure she knows she’s not alone in this—not for a second.

Some of the tension leaves Dad’s face. “It’s been a while since we watched a game together.”

Dad starts toward the living room just as footsteps sound behind us. Lucy walks back into the kitchen, looking more composed now, though there’s still a trace of hesitation in her eyes. When she looks at me, I give her a small, comforting smile.

“Lucy,” Mom says gently. “How are you feeling, honey?”

“I’m okay,” Lucy replies. “Just needed a breather.”

Mom winces slightly. “I’m really sorry about earlier. That wasn’t how I wanted the morning to go. I just thought it would be nice for you to meet… everyone.”

Lucy lets out a light laugh, easing the tension. “It’s okay. Families can be complicated.”

Gemma has been hovering near the pantry, pretending not to listen.

“Lucy,” my sister begins, “I was actually hoping you’d help me with some of the Thanksgiving prep. Mashed potatoes, stuffing, green bean casserole—the good stuff. Want to join me?”

Lucy’s face brightens immediately. “I’d love to.”

Gemma hands Lucy a potato peeler, and within minutes, the guardedness leaves their conversation. Gemma’s always been good at smoothing rough edges, and I’m grateful she’s stepping in without making a big deal out of it.

I stop worrying about whether she belongs. She’s already making her own place.

Away from Mom, some of the tension leaves Dad’s posture. He nudges me as we walk toward the living room.

“You picked a good one,” he says.

I grin. “Yeah. I know.”

We settle onto the couch, Dad grabbing the remote and flipping through channels until he lands on a game. The familiar sounds—crowd noise, commentators, the thud of pads—fill the room. It’s distracting in a way I didn’t realize I needed.

After a few minutes, Dad speaks without looking away from the screen. “Any updates from the scout?”

I lean back, staring at the TV without really seeing it. “Not yet. Upton said he wants a few more games before he circles back.”

Dad nods. “Hard part’s the waiting.”

“Yeah,” I admit. “Feels like everything’s riding on it.”

Gemma says something that makes Lucy laugh, and the sound eases the tension in my chest.

Dad mutes the TV and turns toward me. “Have you thought much about what happens if you get a real shot at the next level?”

“All the time.”

“Have you asked Lucy what she wants?”

My gaze finds the kitchen. “We’ve talked about it.”

“Talking about it isn’t the same as making a plan.”