Page 7 of All This Time (Blossom Peak #1)

Laney

Age Fifteen

Spaghetti and Ice With Friends

“Come on, Bobcats!” I shout, cupping my gloved hands around my mouth, trying to shield the part of my face still exposed to the elements. Even my warmest jacket and beanie aren’t doing much tonight.

Winter has descended upon Blossom Peak a little earlier than usual, which means everyone gathered at the high school tonight to cheer on the varsity football team is freezing their asses off, myself included.

I watch the field, trying to keep my eyes locked on my brother, who plays tight end. But my eyes keep drifting to the boy in the wide receiver position, even though I know they shouldn’t.

It’s getting harder and harder to conceal my crush on Fletcher Adams, but I’m still trying everything in my power to keep it to myself—and Dilynne, of course.

The ball is snapped, and Fletcher makes a run for the end zone.

As he turns, the football spirals through the air before landing perfectly in his outstretched arms. Fletcher turns to find a defenseman lunging for him, but he blasts to the right to dodge him before gliding across the goal line for a touchdown.

“Yes,” I scream, along with the rest of the home-team crowd.

Dilynne laughs next to me, bumping my shoulder. “Your boy is on fire tonight!”

I roll my eyes at her but don’t say anything.

“If the boys keep playing like this, they’re going to the playoffs,” my father says from beside me, pulling me into his side and rubbing my arm through my jacket. My mother claps wildly beside him in celebration.

The Blossom Peak High School football team hasn’t had many shots at the state championship. When you have a small population, it’s hard to build a solid program from year-to-year. But the new coach has rebuilt the program and created a team that has been smashing the competition all season long.

I guess that’s what can happen when the coach is a former NFL star himself.

Our team punts the ball with only a few minutes left on the clock, and even though Castle High School tries their best, they aren’t able to put more points on the board, sealing the win for Blossom Peak.

After the teams shake hands, people start trickling onto the field, and my parents and I join the crowd to congratulate my brother and his friends.

My father finds Dilynne’s brother, Henley, first and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Great game, son.”

“Thanks, Mr. Hart.” Henley plays center, which makes sense given his size.

“You coming over for a late dinner to celebrate?”

“Nah. I promised Dilynne I’d take her to Ruthie’s.”

Dilynne chimes in next to me. “I’m in the mood for pie.” She rubs her stomach before turning to me. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Yup. See ya.”

She waves before following Henley toward the field house.

Elliot sees us from where he’s standing with his family, waving in acknowledgment. He always has something going on with his parents, so I know he won’t be joining us either. Which only leaves…

“Did you see Fletcher’s catch?” Rhonan asks as he runs up to us with Fletcher trailing behind him.

“Yes, honey. We saw.” My mother intercepts my brother in a hug, pressing a kiss to his sweaty cheek.

“Hell of a play, Fletcher,” my father says, reaching out to shake Fletcher’s hand.

My pulse picks up at the smile that lights up his face. “Thanks, Mr. Hart.”

“You’re having an impressive season.”

“I’m trying,” Fletcher says sheepishly, and for a moment I’m wondering where the cocky boy I’ve grown to know is hiding.

Coach Adams walks up to us, extending a hand to my father. “George, Elizabeth. Good to see you both.”

My father reaches out to shake his hand. “Likewise, Luke. Your boy looked great tonight.”

Coach Adams glances over at Fletcher. “He could have done more.”

Fletcher’s jaw ticks as he looks away from his father.

My mother’s eyebrows draw together. “Well, I was impressed,” she replies as Fletcher offers her a tight-lipped smile. “Will you two be joining us for dinner?”

“I can’t. I need to review game footage and get ready for next week’s game,” Coach Adams says.

“I’ll be there,” Fletcher says enthusiastically, which makes butterflies take flight in my stomach again. They started fluttering a few months ago, anytime Fletcher’s around.

“Perfect,” Mom says. “Well, you boys get cleaned up and we’ll meet you out by the car.”

“See you at home later, son,” Luke says to Fletcher before heading back to the sideline to finish clearing out.

Fletcher doesn’t even acknowledge him. “Are you making spaghetti, Mrs. Hart?”

My mother winks at him. “Just for you, Fletcher.”

He rubs his stomach, which causes his jersey to move up, offering a glimpse at his abs underneath. “A woman after my own heart.”

Dad gives him a mock glare. “You’d better watch it, son. That’s my wife you’re flirting with.”

Rhonan rolls his eyes as I giggle. “Oh, Dad. Get real.”

Fletcher holds his hands in the air. “I mean no harm. Promise.”

My dad grins and then grabs my mother’s hand. “Come on, honey. Let’s go wait in the car where it’s warm.” Then he turns to me and grabs my hand as well. “I know you’re cold too, Laney.”

With one more glance at Fletcher and my brother, I take my father’s hand and let him lead me to warmth. But the truth is, I haven’t been cold since Fletcher walked up. Apparently, my crush affects not just my mind, but also my body.

And I’m afraid that it’s only getting worse with each encounter.

***

“This is the best spaghetti, Mrs. Hart,” Fletcher groans and mumbles around his mouthful of food. “I don’t know what you put in this, but I could eat it every day.”

My mother laughs. “It’s a pretty standard recipe, Fletcher. Although, I guess I do add one special ingredient.” She looks over at me and winks. “Love.”

I roll my eyes. “Jesus, Mom. That was cheesy.”

My father pipes up. “It’s true, though. Something about home-cooked food just tastes better, and your mother is one hell of a cook.

” My father blows a kiss across the table toward my mom, and I groan, rolling my eyes.

But honestly, I admire what they have. They are still head-over-heels for each other, they genuinely respect and admire one another, and even when they argue, they never forget they’re on the same team.

It makes me hopeful that I can find that kind of love one day because they’ve shown me that it’s possible—plus, it makes those novels I’ve been reading more realistic.

Fletcher points his fork toward me and my entire body becomes alert. “He’s right, Laney. Trust me. You’re lucky you have a mom who can cook like this.”

Rhonan chimes in. “You don’t hear me complaining,” he says as he shoves a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

Once we all finish eating, I help my mother clean up the kitchen.

Our house is on the back of the property, tucked into the base of one of the mountains behind the vineyard, offering expansive views of the grape vines and mountains surrounding our small town.

The house itself is made of beautiful red brickwork, with massive picturesque windows and ivy vines cascading up the sides, matching the aesthetic of the winery’s main building.

The inside, though, reflects my mother’s touch—vaulted ceilings with broad oak beams, soft brown and green décor, and deep colored wood throughout.

Once I finish helping my mom, my dad drives Fletcher home, and I make my way to my room to hang out and read until I go to sleep. I’ve been really into YA romance novels lately, and the one I’m reading now is about a girl who’s in love with her brother’s best friend—go figure.

It’s just after eleven when I hear scratching at my window.

I bolt upright, my heart pounding violently in my chest. It’s not uncommon for a tree branch to kiss my window when the wind whips outside, but it’s a still night.

Oh God, someone is breaking in. I’m going to be murdered in my own room and I haven’t even kissed a boy yet.

When my window shakes and begins to rise, I jump from my bed and prepare to bolt from my room when the voice behind me stops me in my tracks. “Laney?”

Twisting around, I find Fletcher staring at me as his body is halfway in and halfway out of my bedroom window. “Fletcher? Wh—what the hell are you doing? I thought someone was coming to murder me.”

He huffs out a laugh as he steps all the way into my room and shuts the window behind him. “No murdering on my mind, I swear.”

Keeping my back to my door as I try to process what’s happening here, I eye him warily. He looks massive to me, even though my bedroom isn’t especially small. “Didn’t my father drive you home a while ago?”

He brushes a hand through his hair. “He did.”

“So, what are you doing back here?”

His eyes dart around my room, taking it all in, and I suddenly realize he’s never been in here before.

Fletcher and his father moved to Blossom Peak when he was a freshman, so I was only twelve at the time. Any time Rhonan had his friends over, I was told to stay away—annoying younger sister rules and all that.

It wasn’t until I started going to Blossom Peak High last year that I actually started interacting with Henley, Elliot, and Fletcher more—mostly so people knew not to mess with me since I’m Rhonan Hart’s little sister, but also because it’s a small school and they can’t avoid me as easily.

“Your room doesn’t look like I imagined,” he says, pulling me back to the present and the reality that he’s here, in my room, just the two of us, just like I wished he would be more times than I can count.

“What do you mean?”

He takes a step further into the space and heads toward my dresser, examining the postcards I’ve wedged between the mirror and its frame. “What are these?”

“Those are postcards, Fletcher.”

He flashes me a deadpan look. “You don’t say?”

I take a deep breath and blow it out before moving into the same space that he’s occupying, making sure to prepare myself for the proximity.