Page 31 of Home Town Advantage (Fourth Quarter Fever #1)

FOURTEEN

SULLEY

I let out a laugh. “It was Stacey Rosegarten, trust me.”

Vance twists his lips. “Are you sure?”

“Vance, I followed you and Finn to the drive-in movie theater all the time. You were making out with Stacey when Ellen Gold dumped a bucket of water in the back of your truck. All over poor Stacey.”

He scratches his head. “Ellen’s fatal attraction to me was always over the top, but I thought it was Grace Dunger who she dumped water on in my truck.”

We’ve been stuck in the cabin all afternoon and evening.

After he blew my mind with the best orgasm of my life and then I lost my mind with regret, we agreed to make the most of our time stranded in this cabin without drama.

We’re going to be here for at least another full day.

It would be pointless to make it miserable, so we’re burying the heavy and keeping it light.

We did the one puzzle we found in a cabinet, we’ve played a few games, and we’ve reminisced about old times.

We’re now fully dressed, sipping on our soup late at night, discussing the many women who pined for Vance in his high school days and the girl drama that often ensued from him being the hottest ticket in town.

I shake my head. “Grace Dunger was the one you made out with in the stadium tunnel after your seven-touchdown performance on homecoming of your senior year.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why do you know this?”

I scrunch my face. “Because I saw it and cried my eyes out. My mother had to take me home. I was inconsolable.”

His face softens. “I didn’t know you were there.” He tilts his head to the side. “Wait. Back up. What do you mean you followed us to the drive-in? Stalker,” he jokes.

“I told you I had a little girl crush on you. You guys went to the drive-in nearly every Saturday night. Finn and Maddie were always in his car doing…things.” I make a look of disgust. “You usually had a new girl each time, but you always backed into your spot, laid out blankets in the bed of your truck, and would make out the whole time with the lucky lady. I was so jealous. I always wanted to be the one with you in the back of your truck at the drive-in getting McCaffed.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “What’s McCaffed?”

I giggle. “My younger, innocent way of thinking about whatever you were doing to those girls under the blankets. I don’t think I appreciated what must have really been going on, so I termed it, McCaffed. I was there in the darkness, all the time, thinking how lucky they were.”

He pinches his lips together. “I didn’t notice.”

I give him a small smile. “I know. I was a little girl. Why would you notice? You had your pick of any girl in the high school.”

He licks his lower lip. “If you were older, a woman, I would have picked you. Every single time.”

I raise a bemused eyebrow. “Suuuuure. I heard the rumors about what Leslie Smooter let you do to her.”

He chuckles. “I’m serious. Finn noticed.”

“Finn noticed what?” I ask.

“The moment I stopped seeing you as a little girl. As Finn’s tagalong sister.

It was your senior night. My jaw was practically on the floor when you turned around.

I guess I hadn’t seen you in around fifteen months or so.

In that time, you blossomed into a stunning woman.

I was blown away. He saw it in my face and told me to stay away. ”

I can’t help the smile that finds my face. “Really? That’s kind of…sweet.”

He smirks. “I had a hard-on throughout the entire game watching you play while sitting next to your parents and your brother. It was so uncomfortable.”

I burst into laughter. “Not so sweet. Sweaty girls playing basketball do it for you.”

He shakes his head. “No, seeing your body move so gracefully did it for me. I love watching you play. You’re like a gazelle out there. You exude confidence and joy. You’re always calm and collected. I haven’t missed a single game since.”

I pinch my eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve watched every single college and professional game. Obviously not in person, though I did quietly sneak into a few of your college games under cloak and dagger. I’d watch them on TV. Even if I couldn’t catch a game live, I’d record it. I honestly haven’t missed one single game.”

I quickly do the math in my head. That’s around two hundred and fifty games.

I shake my head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you did that.”

“You’re a generational talent, Gully Sulley. Finn would be so proud of you.”

I whisper, “I hope so.”

He nods. “I know so. He was always bragging about you. Every single conversation I had with him.”

Not wanting to let things get too heavy again, I stand. “I saw some toothpaste in a bathroom drawer. I’m going to finger brush my teeth before bed. I’ll leave it out for you to do the same.”

He smirks. “Are you saying my breath stinks?”

His breath was like the sweet nectar of heaven when it was on me. Around me. In me. But I play it cool. “Yep. That’s why I call you Vile Vance. It’s your stinky breath.”

His face falls as he cups his hand out in front of his face and attempts to smell his own breath. I inwardly giggle that I made him feel so insecure about it as I make my way to the bathroom.

We fall asleep by the fire, under the same blanket, with our backs facing each other. In my fantasies, this night would go a little differently, but that’s where they need to remain. In fantasyland.

I wake in the morning and don’t see Vance in our makeshift bed.

Turning, I see him by the window. I quietly stand and make my way toward him.

I stand beside my forever crush as we both take in the beauty of the snowfall.

It’s white as far as the eyes can see. Every item.

Every tree. They’re all covered by several feet of undisturbed snow.

“It finally stopped,” I quietly announce.

He nods. “Minutes ago. I’ve never seen so much snow in my life. I checked everywhere in and around the cabin. There’s nothing resembling a shovel. We’re going to have to wait until plow trucks can make their way up here.”

“I…umm…guess we have at least another day and night in paradise.”

He nods. “That would be my guess too.”

I notice him staring at a big clearing in the woods. It used to be full of dozens of huge, beautiful oak trees.

“I sold them,” I admit. “Last year. I had a big tax assessment on this place. A developer came in and offered me way above market price for the oak trees, so I sold them to him to pay off the taxes.”

“They were great trees.”

“They were,” I agree. It doesn’t need to be spoken for us both to be thinking that the tree closest to the house, the biggest and best, was where Finn and Vance carved their names as the builders of this cabin.

McShea Brothers . That’s what they called themselves.

I happily included that tree with the others I sold.

After more makeshift teeth brushing and a little granola bar breakfast, we decide to play hangman. There are only so many games you can play with two people and nothing but a few crinkled receipts and a pen from my bag.

With pen and paper in hand and his legs crossed facing me, Vance says, “It’s something he always said to me when we were building this place.”

I lean my elbows on my knees and narrow my eyes at him. “How would I know what he said to you? I wasn’t here most of the time.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s a known phrase. You definitely heard him say it. Just guess the damn letters. That’s how this game goes.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

“R.”

“There’s one R.”

“Q.”

“Who guesses Q at the beginning of a hangman game? No Q.”

I stare at him, trying to get into his mind. “T.”

“Two T’s.”

After guessing E, M, P, N, L, B, S, and C, I have a pretty good idea what it is.

He’s right. It’s something Finn always said when working on the cabin, my treehouse, and all the other little projects he had going on. I smile in satisfaction. “I know it. Measure Twice. Cut Once. ”

His ridiculously handsome face lights up. “You got it, smarty pants.”

He goes about filling in the rest of the letters and hands the paper to me while he stands and goes to put water on the stove to make more hot chocolate.

I happily stare at the phrase, letting memories flood me until one letter catches my eye.

The O. It has a distinct swivel at the top.

One I know I’ve seen before. I rack my brain as I try to remember the last time I would have seen Vance’s handwriting.

He did send cards every year on the anniversary of Finn’s death, but he always signed his name only.

There’s no O in his name. Maybe the Chocolate Cosmo cards?

Nope. Those messages were always printed by the florist. Why is that O so freaking familiar?

A thought occurs to me, but it can’t be right. That wouldn’t make any sense.

I reach for my bag and pull out my wallet. Folded in there, as always, is the letter Finn had his military friend deliver to me months after his death. The one that got me motivated to re-enroll in college and play ball again.

I study it carefully, line by line, until I find what I’m looking for. An uppercase O. It has the same exact swivel.

My eyes widen in realization.

He turns around with a smile, holding the can of hot chocolate mix. “Two or three scoops of chocolate this time?”

With a shaking hand, I hold up the letter. “F…Finn didn’t write this, did he? You did.”

He mumbles, “Shit,” before he turns off the stove, runs over to me, and falls down to his knees in front of my seated, lifeless-feeling body. “Sulley, please don’t be upset.”

My eyes fill with tears. “Why would you do this? Why do you hate us?”