Page 118 of The Love Playbook

Chris silences me with a kiss. “She’s family, and family helps family.”

“ButI’mnot family,” I say, worrying my lip with my teeth.

“Yet.”For a moment, I think he’s referring to us and marriage, but then he smirks and adds, “Come March, when our parents get hitched, you will be.”

“Hilarious.” I poke him in the ribs, but he catches my hand.

“Remember, you don’t need to do it all. You have help, Lettie, people who care.”

With a sigh, I melt into him, soaking up every last touch before he has to leave. I know he’d stay with me longer if I asked him to, but I don’t want to be selfish when he’s already given me so much.

His arms tighten around me, and we stay like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms until he drops a kiss on my head and pulls away.

“You have to go,” I say, hating that it’s true.

“Yeah.”

“Come on, then,” I say with a sigh as I tug him from the room. “My mother will kill me if you don’t give her a proper goodbye.”

Chris smirks, his expression smug as I lead him down the hall and into the living room. My mother sits on the couch where we left her nearly an hour ago to set up her makeshift bedroom, sipping a cup of tea.

When she sees us, her cheeks turn a rosy pink, her expression brighter than I’ve seen it in a long time. She sets her cup of tea down on the coffee table in front of her, and looks like a whole new person than the one she was last night. “Are you kids finished?” she asks, her gaze bouncing between us.

“We’re finished,” I tell her as we round the couch.

“We’ve got you all set up in the den,” Chris says, taking a seat in the chair across from her. “Once your knee heals, I’ll come back and move the bed back up to Lettie’s room, but for now, it’ll be great not having to worry about stairs.”

My mother nods, offering up a rare smile. “Thank you.” Her gaze bounces over to me. “Both of you,” she says, and I nearly double over from shock at the words. In all my years of trying to help pull her from her depression, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard her say it.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Chris says, slapping his hands against his legs.

“Already?” Mom glances up at me for confirmation, and I offer her a sad smile, no happier than she is at the prospect of his absence. “Why don’t I make you a cup of coffee for the road?” she asks, rising to her feet.

My brows rise as I gape at her.Who is this woman and where did she put my mother?

For weeks, she’s done the bare minimum even for herself, and here she is offering Chris a coffee.

“That’s not necessary, really,” Chris says. “It’ll just keep me up, and I have an early practice in the morning.” We exchange a private smile, and I know he’s thinking back to the same thing I am?to that night at Java the Hutt right after we had dinner with my father.

“Well, okay, if I can’t convince you to take a coffee, at least take some pizza with you. Charlotte and I will never finish it.” Mom motions toward the coffee table where the remnants of a pepperoni pizza sit.

“That’s okay,” he says, rising to his feet.

“No, really,” my mother insists.

They go back and forth like this a few times before I reach down and snatch the cardboard box off the coffee table, then shove it in his arms. “You know you want to,” I say with a knowing grin.

He takes it, his fingers lingering over mine when he sighs in a way I know has nothing to do with taking the pizza. “Fine. I do tend to get hungry on the road.”

I smile, hating to say goodbye as my mother rises to her feet with the help of her crutches, and he scoops her up in a hug before turning to me. Wordlessly, I put my hand in his and walk him to the door.

Knowing we have an audience, our goodbye is chaste as he pulls me in for a hug and a quick peck on the mouth. “See you back at school?”

I nod. “I’ll text you tomorrow.” Between football and classes, catching each other during the day before I head home after class will be tough, but we’ll make it work.

Once he’s gone, I turn around and join my mother on the couch, unable to hide my smile. “He’s lovely,” Mom says to me.

“You like him?” I ask, even though that much is obvious. Still, I so rarely get her approval.