Page 79 of Bleacher Report
I’m signing T-shirts, notebooks, even a baseball cap someone swears belongs to their older brother. The whole time, Jesse stands to the side like he’s the one who brought in the rock star. Which I guess, technically, he did.
Then someone—a kid with glasses and big energy—pipes up from the back.
“Is it true you’re dating Jesse’s aunt?”
The room goes silent. Every kid whips their head to look at Peyton, and even the parents outside in the hallway.
I glance over.
She’s standing near the door, one brow lifted, like she’s waiting to see how I’ll answer. Maybe hoping I’ll stick to the script.
But I don’t.
I smile, easy and sure. “Yeah,” I say. “I am.”
The kids scream. Jesse turns to Peyton. “I told you he’d say yes!”
Peyton’s cheeks flush pink, but she doesn’t look away. She just shakes her head, biting back a smile.
She doesn’t look mad. She doesn’t look freaked.
She looks…proud.
And suddenly, pretending feels a lot harder than it used to.
The classroom slowly empties of parents as the kids have to head to lunch next. Some thank me on their way out. A few try to snap a selfie. One asks if I do birthday parties.
Peyton slips out of the room before I can catch her, her hand lightly brushing Jesse’s shoulder as she goes. “I have to take this call with the network,” she tells him, her phone ringing. “I’ll see you later though. Okay? Love you.”
Jesse nods and then walks over to me, his face still flushed with excitement. “That was so cool. You’re like…famous.”
I chuckle, crouching down to his level. “Don’t let it get out. I like being your secret weapon.”
“Can you come over soon? I want to show you how I’ve been improving on my slap shot that we worked on over Thanksgiving. I think I’m getting pretty good. I could use some more tips.”
“Definitely,” I tell him. “But how about I do one better and you come out to the stadium to hit some pucks on the ice. You have to clear it with your mom and your grandma. Do you think you’re up for that?” I ask and then glance at Shari to make sure I didn’t overstep.
She nods that I’m on the right track.
“That would be so cool,” he says.
“Okay, we have to go so you can head to lunch. I’ll be here to pick you up. Your mom picked up a late-night shift. I’ll getHunter’s number and then we can coordinate next week as long as your physical therapist is okay with it,” she says.
He seems disappointed as if he thinks he won’t get cleared, but then everyone in his class lines up for lunch and a few of the boys in his class call him over.
Shari gives me a soft smile as we exit the classroom and start down the hallway toward the exit. “You were wonderful in there. Thank you for doing this for him.”
“It was my pleasure. He’s a good kid,” I say. “A great one.”
We push through the exit to find Peyton standing by her car, still on the phone.
Shari’s eyes twinkle at me when she catches me staring—like she’s holding back about six follow-up comments. But she doesn’t push. Just pats my arm and then heads for her car. “I’ll be in touch,” she calls over her shoulder.
And then it’s just Peyton.
She ends the call and heads for me.
“You were amazing in there. They loved you. And you made Jesse’s life by showing up here today. I am going to be his favorite aunt forever, so thanks for that.”
