False Start - Jessica Ruddick Page 0,96
I introduced them, and my mother hugged Rayowa like she’d known the girl her whole life. The affection seemed to make Rayowa uncomfortable. Luckily, since Roman couldn’t make it home for Thanksgiving, she would have a room to herself, so she would be able to hide if my family got to be too much for her over the next week. Which is inevitable.
After I got Rayowa settled, I planted myself at the kitchen counter while my mother finished making dinner. “How many will be at Thanksgiving this year?”
“Um…” She did some mental calculations. “Eleven? I think. It could change. It’s still several days away.”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s a lot.”
She shrugged. “We’ve had that many before.”
“I assume Mr. and Mrs. Meserve are coming?” They were an elderly couple from down the street. Though they had children and grandchildren, their family didn’t live nearby and rarely came to visit.
“Of course. Mr. Meserve can’t drive anymore. Did I tell you that? It about broke his heart when he failed the driving test, but it’s for the best. He’s a danger to himself and others.”
“That’s too bad. Are they looking at moving into assisted living or anything?”
My mom should her head. “Healthwise, they’re actually in pretty good shape. It’s just his eyesight that’s bad. And she hasn’t had her license for years. Driving makes her nervous. Anyway, I’m trying to teach them how to use Uber and Lyft.”
I smirked at the thought. “How’s that going?” My mother gave me a dry look, and I laughed. “That well, huh?”
“At least they can have groceries delivered.”
“True.” I inhaled the scent of the pasta sauce that was simmering on the stove. “That smells good. When will it be ready?”
“Not for another hour or two,” she said apologetically. “I got a late start on it. So if you’re hungry, have a snack. I stocked up on all your favorites.”
I grinned. It was good to be home. I got up and walked to the fridge. Inside, I found my favorite flavors of yogurt, fresh strawberries that were already washed and sliced, and cheese sticks. I grabbed a strawberry Greek yogurt and shut the fridge. A picture that had been tacked onto the front of the fridge fluttered to the floor, so I leaned down to pick it up. When I flipped it over, my breath caught in my throat as I looked at the image of Roman and Carson in their high school JV football uniforms. Both were covered in mud, and their arms were flung around one another. Even at the awkward age of fourteen, it was obvious that both Roman and Carson were going to be handsome, especially Carson. He was nearly six inches taller than Roman in the picture, and he had the devilish look in his eyes that had been a constant in his high school years. That was probably right around the time that my puppy love for Carson had started turning into something deeper, something more real. I’d only been thirteen, but it hadn’t mattered. I’d already known.
I clipped the picture back on the fridge and scanned the other ones. Most were of Roman and me, which was to be expected, but Carson was in a good number of them too. He was part of my past and, up until recently, a big part of my present. I’d hoped he would be an important part of my future. But with each day that passed without my hearing from him, I had to accept the truth—his time in my life might be done.
***
Carson
THIS WAS THE first Thanksgiving I’d been home since I started at VVU. We always had a game the Saturday following the holiday, and since there were no classes, the coaches used the week to double down on practice. Since I couldn’t practice, I had the week free. Jake had invited me to his place for Thanksgiving, but since Chelsea texted and told me she would be home, I decided to make the trip too. But I arrived on Wednesday and was leaving on Friday—I wasn’t crazy enough to stay the whole week. Besides, I wanted to get back to campus for Saturday’s game. My backup, Hunter Ramsey, was a freshman who had planned to redshirt. That plan had gotten shot on account of my injury, though. I had fallen into a mentor role with him, something I’d never expected to be doing.
There was a bang on my childhood-bedroom door. “Get your ass out of bed!” Chelsea yelled. “Get dressed and come