Page 93 of Breakaway Goal

But now that Rhys and I are together? Now that we’ve admitted we love each other? How could Lane possibly have a problem with that?

What’s more, what right does he have to have a problem with that? None. This is my life and my decision, and my older brother doesn’t have a say in it.

“Yeah,” Rhys answers after several beats of silence, “I’m sure he will.”

When Rhys usually puts so much confidence behind his words, it’s impossible not to notice when it isn’t there.

48

MADDIE

“It’s time,” my dad excitedly proclaims.

We hosted Thanksgiving dinner this year. Our house was packed with aunts, uncles, cousins, and my grandparents from my mom’s side. The last of them have just cleared out, which is the signal for my dad to indulge in a seasonal ritual he’s kept up since I was a little kid.

He picks up the remote for our smart TV and opens a music app. After a couple clicks, the sounds ofLast Christmasby Wham! are filling the house.

My dad is a total nut for Christmas, and he’s the type who immediately jumps into the holiday spirit the moment Thanksgiving ends. Whenever the last of our guests leave, or right when we get back from whoever’s house we’re going to for Thanksgiving dinner, this is the song he always puts on to inaugurate his favorite time of year.

Nostalgia floods me, and I can’t help smiling as I load up the dishwasher with Lane. The first floor of our house has an open design, so I have a clear view of my dad grabbing my mom as she walks past and pulling her toward him.

With a gasp and a giggle, she turns into him and they start dancing together, swaying energetically—if not exactly in a coordinated fashion—to the tune.

I’ve seen this exact scene play out on every Thanksgiving that I can remember, but this time, something about it slices straight to my heart.

I want that with Rhys someday.

I’ve always fantasized about a future with him. But all along I knew that’s just what they were: fantasies.

Now all those dreams I’ve cherished rush back to me, but this time they dance in my mind with the sharp edges and clear colors of a truly possible future.

We’ve only really been together for just a little more than twenty-four hours. In most cases, it would be downright delusional to think like this about a relationship not even two days old.

But, of course, Rhys and I have so much more history than that. Every time I was dreaming of a future with him, now I know that he was doing the same. I’ve loved Rhys for years, and he’s loved me. We know each other, we’ve built up a store of memories we both cherish, we’ve been there for each other for years.

Our relationship doesn’t feel new at all: it feels like it rests on a foundation that an earthquake couldn’t crack, strengthened by time into something unbreakable.

My dad lifts my mom’s hand for her to do a clumsy spin, laughing all the while, and my heart squeezes.

The thought of Rhys and I dancing that way in front of future children of ours, him poised and graceful while I’m tripping over two left feet, and our kids wondering how a premiere athlete like their dad and a total klutz like their mom ever got together, sends a fuzzy feeling fluttering through me.

Rhys and I have been texting all day. He’s at his house, just him and his mom celebrating, like usual. He doesn’t have much of an extended family, but he and his mom are super close, and I know he loves spending holidays with her.

“Hey, bro, what’s up?” I hear Lane say behind me. He sidles next to me and holds his phone in front of us, and I see he’s just started a FaceTime call with Rhys.

My heart does a somersault at seeing him. “Hey Lane. Hey Maddie.”

Maybe I’m just imagining things, but there’s a certain warble in his voice when he says my name that slinks through my ears and straight to my heart, weaving warmly around it.

With the dishwasher loaded, Lane pulls the phone back and walks to the stairs. “So, I was looking for something in my closet, and you’ll never guess what I found buried in there …”

Lane talks to Rhys about some old video game they used to play that he found in his closet, and they’re both laughing as they reminisce while Lane walks up to his room.

A twinge of anxiety tugs in my chest.

By this time next week, Rhys and I will have told Lane about us.

I keep telling myself all the reasons why Lane shouldn’t have any problem with us being together. Why he has no right to have any problem with us being together.

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