Page 64

“Pops and Dad are going to be the best grandpas ever. They’re driving to Seattle for the birth because of the enormous amount of baby shit they have to deliver,” she called over her shoulder.

Yeah, I’d watched the mountain grow over the past nine months. The drive sounded romantic to me. Maybe Brody and I could buy a motorhome and spend my summers off, with the dogs of course, seeing America. I’d much sooner see him behind the wheel of a Winnebago, than that damned Ferrari he sped around Harrisburg in, and the nearby motor speedway in York Haven hitting the track at stupid speeds. Guess we both liked dangerous sports.

“Hey, hey, are we late?” Logan called as he and his little family rushed through the side gate, toting more dishes. “Avery lost her signed Railers cap, so we spent half an hour searching for it. Found it under the fridge.”

“I think ghosts put it there,” Avery shouted–as she tended to do outside because that was where outdoor voices belonged–while charging to her Uncle Brody for hugs. Which he always gave along with loud smooches that made her giggle.

“If you have ghosts, I know a special way to make them go bye-bye,” Pops spoke up from his lawn chair, placed strategically in front of the outdoor projector screen. “What you do is slice potato in half, spit into the air four times–one spit for each direction on compass–and then, you bury potato in garden.”

Dad looked at him with skepticism, but said nothing and, instead, smiled at the man he adored, in that tender way he had.

“My grandfather throws roasted soybeans at the front door while shouting for the demons to be gone, and then, inviting fortune in,” Botan added as we took our seats.

“See, is good to use foods for bad spirit leavings no matter what country.” Pops nodded. We hurried to get plates heaped, then sat down in a semicircle.

“Oh, it’s starting! Oh, my great gods. I love Jemima Wren so much!” Margo fangirled as the worldwide streaming event kicked off. We all knew she loved Jem. It was apparent from the Jem Wren shirt, shorts, socks, sandals, and barrettes she wore.

I wiggled in beside Brody on a swing made for two. He smiled at me, then stole a kiss. I was so happy it almost seemed like a dream. My rookie year had been amazing. We’d made it to the second round of the playoffs, losing to Washington in a seven-game series. My line had been productive both defensively and offensively. The fourth line was often looked down on, but if it could contribute, then the fans and press embraced it. I was training nearly every day, taking care of myself, and working a strict regimen for my diabetes. Life was perfect.

The Railers might make it to the finals next year. We were missing a couple of elements on the top lines, but I was confident that management would do some shopping over the summer to fill those gaps.

“You look so happy,” Brody whispered in my ear as he used a finger to push a few curls out of the way.

“I am. I love having our families here.”

“Yeah, so do I.” He kissed my ear, which made me shiver.

“AHH!! It’s Jem and Traci!! Oh, look at them! Are they the most beautiful couple you ever saw?!” Margo was on her feet as Jem and her girlfriend hit the stage with the rest of her band and dancers in Sydney, Australia. Jem and Traci, one of her backup dancers, had announced their relationship about two months ago. The world had gone crazy for about two weeks, stirring up some renewed interest in Brody that faded once the gossip-mongers couldn’t get him to sass off about his ex. He was thrilled for Jem. He had a good homelife filled with love, laughter, and family, so why would he badmouth her? Add in lots of speedway-related charity work as well. I refused to think about that damn Ferrari parked in our garage.

I snuggled in close, balancing my plate on my thighs, and let the warm summer day wash over me.

I could think of no better place to be than at Brody’s side, living our best lives.

Together.

THE END