Page 42 of The Love Comeback
Nerves bubble up in my chest as I watch the countdown flash across the screen. I have no idea why I’m so hung up on thisrace—like it’s going to matter at all. It doesn’t matter if Ella beats Colton. Honestly, I’m cheering for them both.
But … I just want to see Ella win in one way or another. She deserves it more than anyone else I’ve ever met. I want Ella to win in every single way possible.
They take off down the track, and Ella shifts like she’s been racing cars in real life.
Aaron gasps. “Holy moly! She’s really good!”
Valerie bursts into a giggle as Ella’s purple car soars to the front, flying right past Colton’s black-and-gold race car. Everyone is left in awe, except for me. I knew she had it in her.
And I just smile right along with Ella, who is grinning ear to ear with a determined look in her pretty hazel eyes.
“Ella, you’re too fast!” Colton cries out as Ella just keeps shifting gears and braking through the curves like a pro. “I don’t think anyone can beat you!”
“No one ever has,” Ella says, her voice flat with concentration. “It’s all about strategy.”
“And being able to drive like a pro,” I point out, shooting her a wink as she takes a moment to glance up at me. Her cheeks blush again, and I wonder if I have any kind of effect on her the way I used to. Honestly, it’s all I want now.
I want to be the reason Ella Smart smiles.
There’s nothing more I want in the entire world, and as she crosses the finish line before anyone else, I cheer louder than Ishould. Plenty of people shoot me an annoyed look, but I don’t even care.
“Way to go, Ella!” Colton throws his hands up in surprise. “I can’t believe you’re so good at this! Will you play with me more?”
Ella beams, and for a moment, I see the old Ella—the one I fell head over heels for all those years ago. I don’t even know how to react to it, but I have a sudden, overwhelming feeling to grab her face and kiss her.
To somehow make hermine… again.
Chapter Sixteen
Ella
I wake up before my alarm, a habit I’ve developed after years of early mornings. The only sound is the gentle hum of the heater kicking on against the February chill. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and rub my sleep-crusted eyes.
Another day, another dollar.
I stretch my arms above my head, pushing away the lingering exhaustion that seems to have taken permanent residence in my bones these days. In the kitchen, I move on autopilot. I spread peanut butter over a slice of wheat bread, careful to keep it away from the crust—just how Colton likes it—andadd a thin layer of strawberry jam to another slice. The little note I write on his napkin has become our tradition: “You’ve got this! Love you tons. -E.”
I fold it carefully, tucking it beside the sandwich in his lunchbox.
I’m slicing the apple into perfect wedges when I hear the telltale creaking of Colton’s bedroom door. His footsteps shuffle down the hallway.
“Morning, bud,” I say as he appears in the doorway, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas. “Sleep okay?”
He nods, stifling a yawn. “I had a dream that I scored the winning goal at a hockey tournament.”
“That sounds like a pretty amazing dream.” I place the apple slices in a small container, adding a dollop of peanut butter in the center. “Maybe it’s a sign of things to come.”
His face brightens at that, and he slides onto one of the kitchen stools, watching as I finish packing his lunch. “I’ve been practicing my crossovers every day, just like Kade showed me.”
My heart gives a little stutter at the mention of Kade. Lately, things between us have been …different. Not a bad different, just complicated.
Like we’re both tiptoeing around something neither of us is ready to name.
“I do them in my socks on the kitchen floor when you’re not looking,” Colton adds, breaking me out of my thoughts.
I laugh, picturing him sliding around in his socks. “So isthatwhy the floors have looked so shinylately?” I wink.
“My socks are a dust magnet.” He laughs.
