Page 57 of Cross the Line
Across the table, Momma’s smile is sunshine steady. Her affection for Finley is palpable in the way she keeps reaching for her hand; her gaze keeps circling back to Eli. I know she’s concerned about the three of us like I am certain she’s on to us. We’re not just friends, and hiding it feels like trying to pocket a comet.
I can’t stop touching Finley—leaning close, resting my arm along the back of her chair so my fingers brush Eli somehow, too. I want Momma and Dad to know that Finley and Eli are mine.
“How are you boys feeling about tomorrow’s game?” Dad asks, sliding his dessert plate toward me so I can poach the scoop of strawberry gelato off his wild-berry tiramisu.
“Try this,” I tell Finley, offering a spoonful while Eli answers Dad, “It’s going to be a challenge, for sure. The Fury are on top form. Their turnaround stats are crazy good and?—”
“You’re back. Florida’s turnaround might be great, but we see them, we’ve studied all their plays…” Eli gives me a buttoned smile over Finley’s head. “What? I’m not blowing smoke up your ass, Sweetheart.”
His cheeks flash bright red at my endearment. Even if it slipped out, I don’t care—and neither Momma nor Dad flinches.
A breath I didn’t know I’d been holding hisses out as I feed Finley another spoonful of gelato. She’s glowing—hair half-up in a messy knot, soft tendrils framing those doll-like features, no makeup. Her beauty is all organic, an inner light that brightens with every smile.
“And you feel ready to be back?” Momma asks Eli.
“So freaking ready,” he says with a confident grin, leaning into my touch when my fingertips drift across his shoulder blade to palm his nape.
“I can’t wait to finally see him play,” Finley coos, squeezing my thigh while she presses a lingering kiss to Eli’s jaw.
“Until the anxiety and nerves take over and you’re praying not to pass out,” Momma chuckles, reaching across to clasp my hand.
“From all the crazy screaming you do,” I shoot back, amused.
“Sue me. I’m a hockey momma.” She gives me a mock glare and laces our fingers.
Dad smiles at her. “It’s what they do.”
I excuse myself and head to the cash desk to pay before I have to wrestle Momma for the bill. I’m almost there when familiar arms wrap my middle.
“Where are you going, Peanut?” Momma asks when I glance back.
“Bathroom,” I lie, dragging my eyes away.
“Oh, you’re going the wrong way,” she says with a knowing chuckle, threading her arm through mine and falling into step. “The bathroom is back there.”
“Momma,” I try for stern, “go back to the table.”
“Nah-ah, I said this would be my treat to cheer you up.” She pauses in a quiet corner and looks me dead in the eyes. “Although it seems to me that Finley and Elijah have that covered.”
A grin I can’t stop slices across my face. “Are you okay with it?”
“I will always be more than okay with anything and anyone that makes you smile like this. Besides, I saw it at Thanksgiving… The three of you constantly gravitate to each other. Where Eli goes, Finley follows, and where Finley goes, you follow, and he follows you.” A wistful sigh brings her closer.
“Do you think I’m crazy, Momma?”
She shakes her head, holds my chin. “I think you are loved the way you deserve to be; in abundance. I’ve never seen someone watch two people the way Eli watches you and Finley. He hangs on your every word. His breaths linger on your every move. That’s special, Sweetie.”
“Please don’t cry,” I say, pulling her into a hug.
“Only if you let me pay for dinner.” She plants a hard, lingering kiss on my cheek. “You’re the most precious.”
“Nope, not happening… and anyway, you say that to all three of us.”
“Because all three of my children are precious.” She links our armsand we meander back now that I’ve been rumbled. “How about we split the bill? Go fifty–fifty?”
“No, Momma, you came all this way to hug me; the least I can do is buy you dinner.” I side-eye her; she’s wearing that soft expression that squeezes my chest until secrets beg to spill.
If it were anyone else’s secret, I’d blab every word, clawing at my throat. Even though Eli said I could talk to her about what happened to him, it doesn’t feel right to put it into the world when he’s not ready. It’s his story, his life. Not mine to share—not even with Momma.
