Page 21 of Offside Secrets
The three-bedroom farmhouse I bought outside Richmond is gorgeous on paper. Wide porches, tall ceilings, polished hardwood floors. But right now, it feels like living inside a museum—beautiful, but empty. My heels click across the floors, the sound echoing too loudly in all this space I thought I’d fill with family and laughter. Instead, it’s just me and the hum of the heating system.
I pause in the kitchen, staring at the string of twinkle lights I half-heartedly draped above the window for ambiance recently. They look a little lonely, like even the lights are exhausted. In the corner sits a cardboard box. Its contents? A jumble of things I meant to organize—old photo albums, a stack of unread books, random papers I swore I’d sort last month. A few small décor projects I bought on a whim still sit untouched, glaring at me, and a pile of family memorabilia I was looking forward to checking out with Gavin.
As I take inventory of my domestic failings, I can’t help but ask myself when in the world did life become so hard? This adulting thing—it’s proletarian, and yes, that was one of my recent words of the day and I love it.
I look around at my ongoing task list before I throw my hands in the air. “Screw this.”
I grab my phone again, scrolling to Elle’s number. She picks up on the second ring.
“Hey,” I say, my voice brighter than I feel. “Meet me for dinner?”
The night airhas a little bite; Jack Frost isn’t quite nipping at my nose, but he’s thinking about it. There’s a scent of roasted chestnuts from a vendor on the corner that accosts my senses as Elle and I walk side by side, each holding a steaming paper cup of tea. My fingers curl around mine like it’s a lifeline.
“I’m so glad you wanted to try that restaurant,” Elle says, patting her belly as we walk. “I love Indian food, and that place was the best.”
“Exactly what I needed tonight, too,” I agree as we take in the scene around us.
River City is in the midst of dressing to the nines in the lead up to the holidays. The trees lining the street are wrapped in white lights, branches sparkling like they’ve been dipped in sugar. Shop windows glow with elaborate displays—one has a toy train circling a mountain of peppermint bark; another features mannequins in sequined gowns that look like they were stolen off a Hallmark movie set. A giant wreath hangs over Main Street, twinkling above us like a beacon, and every lamppost has garland trailing down it.
“Can you believe it’s already ‘that time of year’?” Elle says, blowing into her cup. “I mean, we just got through Halloween, didn’t we?”
I laugh softly. “Tell me about it. This year’s been a lot.”
“That’s one way to put it.” She bumps my shoulder gently. “But hey, we made it. And I, for one, am grateful for you.”
Her words hit me right in the heart. I glance at her, the twinkling fairy lights reflected in her eyes. “Same. You’ve been my sanity more times than I can count this year.”
Elle stops, reaching out with her free arm to pull me into a side hug. “I really am sorry Gavin’s not coming home for a visit,” she murmurs.
“More than a visit, he was going to be my plus-one so I could shut the board up.”
“Even if he is your brother?” Elle says, snickering.
“At least I would be going to the gala with someone, so there’s that.”
“You know, I could ask Dixon if he wants to go with you. I know he won’t mind. Be good press for both of you.”
“It’s not about that, though, Elle, and I’m sure Dixon would rather be with you than on my arm for appearances’ sake as a favor.” I exhale, watching the puff of breath curl in the cold air. “I don’t know.” I shrug, and force a tiny cough. “I might even fake sickness and cancel going to the whole thing myself.”
“What are you canceling?”
The voice cuts through the air, playful and unmistakable. I spin around to see a rowdy group spilling out of O’Malley’s Sports Bar. Right in the middle of them is Sawyer, a hand pressed dramatically to his chest like I’ve just offended his honor.
“Are you cancelingme, Sutton?” His grin is infuriatingly charming. “Or should I call you Boss Lady?” he asks, milking it for the crowd. “Boss Lady is canceling me?”
I can’t help laughing. “No, Sawyer. I would never cancel you.”
And of course, where Sawyer goes, Campbell isn’t far behind. He emerges from the doorway, taller, quieter, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. His eyes find mine, steady and unreadable, and my stomach does a little somersault it has no business doing.
“Fancy running into you two here,” Elle says brightly, ever the social diplomat.
“Had to make an appearance,” Sawyer says, gesturing toward the bar like it explains everything. “Shake hands, take a few selfies, keep the people happy.”
“Glad to see you survived,” I tease. I then glance over and notice Campbell pushing up his sleeve, revealing a glimpse of ink I’ve never seen before. It looks like a mountain range, with some kind of symbol overlay, but I’m not sure. Myeyebrows shoot up, and I feel a little hitch inside. Huh. Who knew I was a tattoo girl?
“Well, well, Campbell,” I say, walking over, trying to keep it casual. “I never noticed you had some ink.”
He glances at me, smirking. “Guess I’ll add it to the list of things you didn’t know about me.”
