Page 81 of Offside Secrets
“You went on four dates,” I point out.
“Four incredibly deep, emotionally resonant dates.” Sawyer accepts the beer Dad hands him. “We really connected. She told me I had good energy.”
“She tells everyone they have good energy,” Sutton says. “It’s literally in her Instagram bio.”
Sawyer narrows his eyes as he sets his sights on Sutton. “Whose side are you on?”
“The side of reality,” she responds, earning a laugh from me.
“Listen to Sutton, she and reality are tight,” I say, inclining my head knowingly.
Dad chuckles from the kitchen doorway. “Sawyer, you fall in love faster than anyone I’ve ever met. Remember the barista? The yoga instructor? That woman at the grocery store who complimented your cart?”
“She said I had excellent produce selection.”
“You were buying frozen pizza and beer.”
“Exactly. She saw past the surface.”
I drop onto the couch beside my cousin, slapping his shoulder. “You’ll survive. You always do.”
“Easy for you to say. You found the perfect woman, who actually wants to keep you around.” He gestures at Sutton, who’s watching this exchange with obvious amusement. “Meanwhile, I’m destined to die alone, probably in Alexandria now, surrounded by hockey equipment and my own poor life choices.”
“At least you’ll have good company,” Sutton offers. “Campbell will be there to witness your descent into lonely desperation.”
“Thanks. That’s comforting.”
Dad calls us to dinner, and we crowd around the small table that’s seen a thousand family meals. The roast is perfect, the vegetables are only slightly overcooked, and the conversation flows easy and warm.
Sawyer regales us with increasingly dramatic retellings of his relationship failures, Dad shares stories about my mother that make me miss her and smile at the same time, and Sutton…well, that gorgeous woman fits into our little family like she’s always belonged here.
After dinner, while Dad and Sawyer begin their tradition of arguing about whetherDie Hardcounts as a Christmasmovie, I catch Sutton’s eye and jerk my head toward the living room.
She follows me, leaving the boys to their debate.
The Christmas tree stands in the corner, lights twinkling in the dimness. It’s not fancy—we bought it at the grocery store lot and decorated it with ornaments that are mostly older than I am—but it’s ours.
“I have something for you,” I say, reaching into my pocket.
“Campbell, we said no gifts?—”
“It’s not really a gift. More like...a promise.”
I pull out a tiny dried flower, which has been pressed and is now attached to a fresh sprig of mistletoe. I show it to Sutton, watching as the realization of what I’m holding washes over her.
“The red rose from the gala?” Sutton laughs when she finally gets it. “How did you…I thought I had that?”
“You were in possession of it at one time, but as you can see I managed to steal it. You can thank Elle.”
“What? How?”
“Long story short—at practice one day she was joking about a friend of hers who had an old dried up flower in a vase in their kitchen and how weird it was. I had a feeling, so I asked her if you were the friend and if the flower in question was a rose. When she said it was, I told her its origin story, and she immediately decided she was going to steal it. No hesitation. Full-on flower heist mode.”
Her lips quirk. “You did that for me?”
“I pressed it all by myself, and added some flair.” I hold it over our heads, and she steps closer automatically. “But here’s the thing. I like that I don’t need props anymore to have an excuse to kiss you. I don’t need grand gestures or perfect moments.”
“No?”
