Page 107 of After the Snap

“You’re going to put the friend who knows you have a boyfriend in the same house as the father who doesn’t know I’m that boyfriend?”

I wince because he has a point. Olivia knows enough that four days under Dad’s roof is going to require some careful editing, especially when Jubal’s name comes up as often as it does during football season.

“She can keep a secret for a few days.” I say it with more confidence than I feel. “Besides, staying at Dad’s will give me some time with him. I’ve barely been there lately.”

Jubal looks at me for a second, but he doesn’t point out the obvious reason for that.

“It’ll be fine,” I say, squeezing his hand before I let go. “Olivia and I survived four years of college together. She can survive Thanksgiving without outing me to my father.”

“That sounds dangerously optimistic.”

“I prefer confident.” I narrow my eyes at him, but he’s smiling when I reach for my phone again before I can sit too long with how much that gets to me.

Is there any way I can convince you to suddenly develop amnesia about my boyfriend?

Olivia

I can try, but if your dad asks follow-up questions, you’re on your own.

Jubal’s phone vibrates against the counter before I can answer her; the sharp buzz is followed almost immediately by another. He glances down at it but doesn’t reach for it until the fourth one comes through.

“What the hell?” His eyes move from his screen to mine. “Why isn’t yours going off too?”

I glance down at my phone and open the Valor group chat Easton added me to a few weeks back after deciding I needed unrestricted access to whatever nonsense happens when too many professional football players are given unrestricted access to one another. It took less than a day for me to decide I absolutely did not.

“I silenced the chat weeks ago. Y’all talk too much.”

“I wish I could mute these assholes sometimes.” His phone vibrates again, and he catches it before it can skitter any closer to the edge of the counter. “But I’m pretty sure muting the team chat violates something in my contract.”

“I doubt it.”

“That’s not the point, Pea.”

He unlocks the screen, his expression shifting from annoyed to confused as another series of messages comes in. “You might want to get in here and play referee.”

“Is it that bad?”

“Depends. How strongly do you feel about pie for Thanksgiving?”