“Wait—hold up.” Lamar cuts in. “Isthatyour new boo? You replaced me withthat?”
“Shut the fuck up, Lamar,” Missy fires back, rolling her eyes. “Apparently,youlike Tuck now, so don’t even start.”
Lamar cackles, unfazed. “Still feisty as ever. Good luck to you dudes.” He lifts his fist and Bowie bumps it without hesitation.
I snicker, shaking my head as I finally step onto the bus. Despitethatshitshow, my chest is a little lighter. Because Mick? He’s gone. Out of my life. And that’s all I could’ve hoped for.
TWENTY
EverytimeIopenmy eyes in the morning and can confirm it’s not a dream, that he’s there, safe and sound in my arms, plastered against my back or me against his, his warm skin flush against mine, I exhale in relief. Like my body remembers it needs to breathe again.
Every time he’s there in the stands, rooting for me like I’m the only one on the field, cheering me on with his black and orange scarf wrapped proudly around his neck, one of my jerseys on like a second skin, I can breathe a little better.
And every time I catch him laughing with my friends or family, shoulders loose, easy in his own skin again, that spark back inhis eyes, that smirk playing on his lips, I let a little more of the worry go.
We’re good. So fucking good it feels unreal. Like I’m stuck in some kind of fever dream, drifting high above it all, euphoric and drunk on justbeing with him. It’ssobad,sogood, it’s dangerous.
And deep down, in the very marrow of my damn bones, I know we’re going to make it through this deportation bullshit like we survived the distance, too. Things are looking up; his dad says as much, and apparently, he’s also knee-deep in renegotiating terms with the label after the whole shitshow with Mick.
Everything’s turning in our favor, piece by tiny fucking piece. And I’m holding on to that with both hands, holding it so very,veryclose. Because I can’t fucking imagine my life without him. And I don’t want to. Not now, not ever. Deportation or not.
And fuck it, if it really comes to that? If his visa gets denied and they try to tear him away from me? I already know what I’d do. It’s not even a question. It’s instinct. I’d do whatever it takes to keep him here. No hesitation.
Hell, even if hewasa U.S. citizen, I think I’d still feel the same. This thing between us… it’s not temporary. It’s not somemaybe. It’s solid. Real. Something I want to make official. Eventually... I’m sure of that.
It’s something Ineed. Something that would solidify everything we are to each other. Everything he is to me. And me to him. We just... fit. In every way that matters. I fit into his life like I was always meant to be there. And he slots into mine so perfectly it’s like he’s been a part of it forever.
Like now. It’s Thanksgiving, and my family’s doing what it always does: we give. The diner’s transformed into a soup kitchen-slash-safe haven for anyone who doesn’t have a Thanksgiving of their own. Besides the homeless and the ones just trying to get by, there are families here. Families with kids,living in poverty. People who can’t afford to put a turkey on the table, let alone think about stuffing or pie.
And yet, here he is, right in the middle of it, helping in the kitchen, hauling around crates with food and laughing with my mom and dad like he’s been doing it his whole life. He fits into this too, this big part of me. And God, watching him like that?
Yeah. I’m totally fucking done for.
I love my parents and my uncle and aunt for doing this every year. I love being part of it. I love helping out when I don’t have a game, which I don’t this year. But what I love most right now?
That Jace is here. Being part of this. Being part ofus. My family.
Even though my mom kind of shooed us off to the kitchen, out of the spotlight, which I get. This day isn’t about us. It’s about the people who show up hungry and lonely and need a place to belong, even if it’s just for a few hours. And yeah, Jace and I get enough attention as it is.
But not as a couple. Not yet.
We’re still not out,out. Not publicly. For now, we’re keeping things under wraps. Jace is totally down with that, even though he got his dad to add a new clause in the label contract. No label rep can promote any romantic relationship or partnership of one of the band members without the full consent of the band.Theydecide what goes online.
He’s ready to go public. I know he is, I can see it shimmering in his eyes like a promise. But he left the decision with me, and I’m so damn grateful for that. IthinkI want to… but the attention? The scrutiny? Everyone keeps saying it could hurt my career, influence the draft, stain my image... Or uplift it, maybe.
And they’re not entirely wrong. Itwillbe a thing. No matter how much I want it not to be. I just don’t know if I’m ready for it to be athingyet. I like that it’s just us for now.
I’m not great with attention. Never have been. That’s why I kind of like it back here, in the kitchen, working on the dessert with Jace and my brother while the chaos is up front.
“Are we sure giving him a knife is a good idea?” my brother J asks, perched on one of the counters, casually stealing slices of apples off the cutting board and munching on them.
Jace narrows his eyes at him. “What? I can slice a damn apple. I’m notcompletelyincompetent, thank you very much. I know I don’t exactly cook, but—”
“Babe,” I cut in, grinning, “youliterallyalmost set the kitchen on fire trying to heat dinner.”
Jace scoffs, mock offended. “How was I supposed to know you can’t put foil in the microwave?!”
J nearly chokes on an apple slice from laughing, a lock of his longish hair escaping from where he has it tied back, and I just shake my head, raising one brow.
