Page 3

Chapter 2

Throw Pillows

Sydney

A fter saying goodbye to Mom, Dad, and Liam, I lock up the shop and head to my apartment above Sugar Rush. Being alone with my thoughts is always a dangerous place to be, but I’ve been getting better, until now, when I find myself replaying the day’s events. Specifically, the unexpected visit from Lindsey and Lily, the guilt I feel about my attraction to Beau, knowing he’s working on his relationship with Lindsey. Having been cheated on, I chastise myself for the fantasies I’ve been having about him, but I try to remind myself it’s not his charming smile, his dedication as a father, or the way he always brightens everyone’s day when he visits the shop. I try to push these thoughts aside, reminding myself that even though Beau has never been someone I dream about having a relationship with, he’s always been a fantasy. That officially ends now. He’s off-limits.

Giving myself forgiveness, I decided to focus forward, which is a damn good thing since I’m walking up the stairs. I smile as I think of Lily’s infectious energy and Lindsey’s quiet grace. What they have all gone through has been a place they certainly don’t want to go back to, and where I know they are heading is a place where they will one day be an incredibly happy family.

I remind myself that having known him first, not only seeing but feeling his joy when Lily was here, which is a fairly recent happening, I had somewhat villainized Lindsey due to a situation that I had no business judging. I mean, Beau never once made Lindsey out to be a bad person. Who am I, to? Now, I feel empathy for Lindsey. She’s different than I imagined. In my head, she was a southern belle with old money who was controlling and using her parents’ dominating nature to try to keep him away from Lily. But now my view has changed. I can honestly see her being part of the Knights family. In fact, I’m going to foster the heck out of that relationship. And yes, this means I must stop polishing the pearl to the image of #21.

I slide my shoes off outside the door, unlock it, and head straight to the fridge to grab a glass of cucumber water to rehydrate then straight to my computer. I open my email as I tuck one leg under the other and see I received the tracking numbers for the twelve cases sent to South Florida. I forward it to Dakota, who owns the Candy Emporium, and then I get up and look at the couch, trying to decide whether I just want to crash here or head to the bedroom. I decide not to start denying myself the pleasure of sleeping when it’s only night three here in my sweet little home.

I have the whole day tomorrow to stay in and try my hardest to do absolutely nothing without crawling out of my own skin. A day I have planned for months, to reflect on the here and now, and not the past year of my life. A day I had to fight for because it also happens to be the day the Knights are playing the Cowboys, and if—no, when they win—they’re one step closer to the playoffs. I should be there, but I also need to lean into the idea of giving myself a break now and then. It is bothersome that I lied through my teeth to everyone, saying I had my first second date, since I started this whole online dating nonsense and promised to tell them all how it went on Wednesday when we all got together at the Brewery to sample Riley and Lauren’s newest line of kind-of wine, which is part barley and part local grapes because they won’t serve just wine without a little brew at Brooks Brewery.

Standing at the counter, I add some cocoa and a pinch of sugar to my mug before pressing the button to start brewing my espresso into it. I decided to do it again because I have a major case of the yawns this morning. Once that’s finished, I stir it up, add some frothed milk to the mixture, and then head over to sit at the window and watch the snowfall. Or, at least that was the plan. Although it’s cold out, it is December 30 th , the morning isn’t quiet. The streets are buzzing with traffic. Most of it is undoubtedly heading toward Legacy Field.

Blue Valley has always had a touristy draw—the winters with hunters and snowmobilers, the summer because we’re situated between two of the Finger Lakes and have an amazing State Park, but it was never like this. No one has truly complained—it’s boosted revenue and, of course, the increased tax revenue has been put to good use in the community. BV may never be posh like Skaneateles, but it’s giving it a run for its money. The town now sparkles and shines; grants have been given to residents to improve their homes and property, businesses to help them grow, and people with innovation and drive to start new ones. That being said, the people of the area who are die-hard football fans like us aren’t going to miss the game, even though they may earn more in one day than they could in a month, especially this year.

The facility has two five-star restaurants, valet parking, and members-only areas, like all the other stadiums across the country. The New York Knights game day staff is typically over four thousand people. We’re lucky to be surrounded by dozens of colleges with students who line up to get a job at the stadium. All the concession stands, except for the alcohol booths, are run by not-for-profit groups, clubs, and local schools and churches to raise funds. Last I heard, there was a two-year waiting list.

The traffic coming through now are probably those groups of people; those who are coming to watch the game are routed around the town to make sure traffic flows smoothly.

I must admit that I am feeling a bit off about not being there today as I sit here, sipping cocoa in my Knights’ jammies.

When I notice several G Wagons and other dark SUVs rolling by—not local—I only wonder if I’m missing something when I quickly realize I have freaking football FOMO.

I grab my remote to turn on the TV and hit the local news, but I don’t see anything. Then I hit TSN, knowing the biggest sports network is here today, and nothing is going on there, either.

“You’re spiraling, Sydney Sparks.” I sigh as I head over to the sink in the kitchen to clean up the machine and empty my cup, thinking maybe I need to lay off the caffeine if I plan to relax all day for the first time in months. Well, actually, it's been a year.

I need this day.

After filling my favorite cup with water and some cucumber slices, head to the couch, set the cup on a coaster, squat down, and pull the large white planner out from where I shoved it under the couch.

“Today is the day,” I say, settling back into the cushion to say a final goodbye to four years of my freaking life and the saddest surprise there ever was.

I open the album and see the date, February 14 th .

Derek Franklin Clark and Sydney Marie Sparks.

I jump when I hear the door handle jiggle and quickly slam the book closed as it opens and in walks Liam.

“Heard you were trying to skip out on the game. That’s not happening.”

Shoving the album under the couch, I pout. “It’s one game.”

“Get your shit together, Sparky,” booms from behind me, and I turn to see my cousin, CJ, who’s never home, like ever. “We’re not going to do the whole back and forth bullshit, which will end the way it should—you throwing on a jersey, some leggings, a beanie, some killer boots that I have no idea how you don’t bust your ass in when you wear them in the damn winter, and you can paint your face in the vehicle. Let’s roll.” He nods toward the door.

I cross my arms and scowl at him.

“In three, I’m coming over there, tracking snow all over your floor, throwing you over my shoulder, and you’re going in your PJs.”

“I—”

“Two,” he warns.

The thing is, when CJ warns, there’s massive weight behind it.

“You’re such a bully,” I grumble, and I do it—heading toward the stairs to get ready.

“Make sure you take whatever you’ve got those locks rolled up in out of your hair,” he calls after me with a chuckle.

My cousins, Harper and London, are waiting for me when Liam pulls up at the gate.

CJ jumps out of the passenger seat, opens the door for me, waves his hand out, and smirks. “See you up there in a bit.”

“If I didn’t miss you, I’d tell you to F off,” I say as I climb out.

“You do know you’re old enough to say fuck now, right?” he quips, getting back into Liam’s vehicle.

“It’s colder than a Texan playing football in Central New York.” London hooks her arm through mine. “Let’s go.”

“What are you two doing?” I ask as Harper hooks hers through my other arm.

“Making sure you don’t run all the way back to the village.” She laughs, but it’s forced.

“What’s going on, really?” I ask as I notice the heightened security around the stadium. “Was there a threat or?—”

“The guys always think there’s a threat,” Harper says. “Works in this case. It brought CJ and Matthew home for the rest of the season.”

“And their commandos,” London adds.

“They’re not commandos.” Harper laughs.

“Well, they sure as hell aren’t our retiree’s greeting fans,” London says, nodding toward the gate where about five pro-football-sized men, armed men in black, who are all really good-looking, stand.

“They certainly aren’t,” I reply.

“They’re going to scan you,” Harper says.

“They’re going to what me?” I ask.

“Facial recognition,” London answers. “You know the kind of machines that not commandos with guns use on any given Sunday at a family friendly NFL game.”

Harper rolls her eyes. “If Vegas had one of these, we’d know who the people were that stormed the field.”

“Ma’am, could you remove your hat?”

“My hair—” I gasp when London pulls it off me. “I didn’t get a chance to do it today.”

“Ma’am, could you look this way and try to stand still?”

“Sydney Sparks, she’s one of use,” London tells him.

He rolls his eyes and turns the device to face us, and it reads, “ Sparky: Too sweet for her own good. Too good for any of you. Touch her, we will bury you. Don’t believe us, fuck around and find out. ”

“This you?”

I feel my face heat up, and I nod. “Could you tell me if the wonder twins still sleep in the same bed?”

“Not sure, Sparky, but I’ll be sure to ask.” His lips twitch up just a touch, and he nods for us to proceed.

“I appreciate it.” I roll my eyes as I pass.

Past the gate, there’s even more security than ever. The new additions are all dressed in black and look like they all came out of a factory that spits out hot as hell bad asses. Unlike the ones at the main gate, these ones don’t appear to be packing.

“No guns inside?”

“None that you or anyone else can see,” London answers as we head for yet another gate.

My father never hunted often, so he never had a gun at our house, but I was raised around guns because everyone in Blue Valley hunted. Grandpa John made sure we all knew how to, at the least, check to see if they were loaded and how to unload them. Since becoming a teacher, I have grown to dislike them a great deal.

It feels almost suffocating in here now, and it’s a stark reminder of the chaos and turmoil that was brought upon by the old Knoxville Knights fans who despise the buyout and move. There is still no proof it was them who stormed the field in Vegas and the fight that broke out, which resulted in some of our players getting hurt and Hart, who was simply throwing bodies off his teammates, being benched.

In our last home game, BVPD and the State boys were present, but this is next level.

“Something’s up, and I don’t like being left in the dark,” I tell Harper.

“All we know is the closer we get to the big game, the more pissed off they’re going to be because they couldn’t do it in Knoxville,” she says as we make our way to the stairs that lead to the owner’s box.

“Better safe than sorry,” London adds.

“I agree.”

Through the maze of checkpoints and barricades, we make our way to the owner’s box, a sanctuary high above the sea of black and gold.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Mom walks over and hugs me.

“Wasn’t really a choice.” I hug her back and hear Aunt Tessa laugh.

I look past Mom and at her. “CJ has boundary issues.” I look at Aunt Phoebe. “And yours takes liberties with keys.”

“Which one of the three?” Aunt Phoebe asks as she walks over and gives me a hug.

“Is Remington back in town?” I ask, but then I realize, of course, he is. “All three of them.”

“And they’re not commando friends,” London states as she looks around. “Feels empty in here without the kids.”

“Where are they all?” I ask as I remove my coat.

“They’re all watching from home,” Tessa says, giving me a hug.

“So, what’s really going on?”

She steps back and nods toward the window facing the field. “Those people are all part of the Knights family, or guests. Better safe than sorry.”

“That seems to be the consensus.”

“Now I’ll ask you”—she squeezes my hand—“what’s going on with my Syndey?”

When the music stops and Colt begins, I make a mental note to bring him some extra treats for his kids.

“ Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, football fans of all ages, welcome to Legacy Field, home to our New York Knights! The energy is electric, the stakes are sky-high, and history is ready to be written! ”

The crowd erupts in applause.

“ We are two games away from the playoffs, and on this chilly afternoon in the beautiful Finger Lakes region, the stage is set for an epic showdown between the New York Knights and the Texas Cowboys. The Knights, led by our quarterback, Cody Warren, are looking to defend our turf and add another win to our season. The stands are packed, the sold-out crowd roaring, and the players are lined up in the tunnel, ready to charge on to the field. Can you feel it, folks? That’s the pulse of the game, the heart of football, and the promise of delivering a win for all of you. Get ready to cheer, shout, and hold your breath because, today, anything can happen. Kickoff is just minutes away. Let’s make some noise for the greatest team in the league … Let’s go, Knights! ”

And just like that, nothing but the game matters.

I sink into the black velvet chair beside my mom, and Harper sits beside me.

“You hungry?” Aunt Tessa asks.

I could have sworn I just had my coffee. “I’m not hungry. Not yet, anyway.”

Our usual waiter appears, offering glasses of champagne, and I accept one with a grateful smile.

“But we are thirsty,” London says, taking an offered glass and holding it up. “To a childless game with the coolest chicks in Blue Valley.”

“Don’t you dare start without me,” comes from behind us. It’s Aunt Jade. “I can’t believe you three are up here, when my girls, your cousins, are freezing their little asses off down there at the fifty-yard line.”

“Ohh … you know we’ll be down there if need be.” London chuckles. “Which will be in about two or three more glasses of bubbly.”

“Where are all the littles?” Aunt Jade asks.

“They all stayed back at Harper and Maddox’s place with Mom and Dad to help cook us dinner.” Tessa shrugs. “Too cold today.”

Jade laughs. “Yes, it’s gotta be a balmy seventy degrees in here. One-ninety if you’re entering menopause.”

“Cheers to that.” Phoebe raises her glass.

When Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” begins, we are all on our feet, ready to cheer on our Knights.