Nowhere but Home A Novel - By Liza Palmer Page 0,135

the banner and the crowd goes wild. Several confetti explosions burst into the sky and, as the rest of the team runs through the now shredded banner, confetti falls all around them.

And there’s Cal. Merry Carole beams. Cal’s got his head down and looks rather serious for a boy running through gold-and-black confetti.

“He looks nervous,” Dee whispers, leaning over so Merry Carole won’t hear.

“I know,” I say, watching as he makes a beeline for the sideline. Reed and his coaching staff, all wearing matching black polo shirts with rearing stallion insignia, trot out last. With his baseball cap pulled low, Reed doesn’t look into the stands, either. He focuses on the sidelines.

“Isn’t that Wes’s old jersey?” I ask, pointing at West. Merry Carole tears her gaze away from Cal and Reed and scans the rest of the team for West. She finds him just as he’s turning around. MCKAY. In big bold letters. Merry Carole just smiles.

“That’s amazing,” she says and swoons. We look over to Whitney and Wes and they’re also wearing a couple of Wes’s old jerseys. As are DeWitt and Cheryl—happily now playing the role of grandparents. I point this out to Dee and Fawn, who launch into a symphony of awwwwws.

The opposing team bursts out onto the field and settles into their sidelines. The referees come to the center of the field, calling the captains of each team as well as the coaches to join them. One of the team parents presents the head referee with a microphone and there is much thumping and feedback as they figure out exactly how this newfangled apparatus works. The referee finally tugs the microphone away and thump, thump, thumps it to make sure it’s on.

“WELCOME, oh wow, that sure is loud. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to a new season of football!”

The crowd applauds. The referee thumps and thuds the microphone as he asks Reed a question. Reed nods and motions to Everett on the sidelines.

“At this time, Coach Blanchard of the North Star Stallions would like to make an announcement.” The referee passes the microphone to a very irked-looking Reed. Reed takes it.

“Thanks for coming out, y’all. It looks like the whole town showed up. It’s a tradition here in North Star to choose someone from our community to do the opening-game coin toss. This year the North Star Stallions have asked Everett Coburn to do us the honor.” More applause as Everett runs out onto the field. He keeps his head down and his cowboy hat low. Fawn, Dee, and Merry Carole all look over at me. Pointedly. I immediately blush, but despite their smug sideways glances, trying to embarrass me, I finally feel free to stare unabashedly at Everett. My man. Reed passes him the microphone and the crowd settles into a momentary silence.

“Thank you, Coach Blanchard, for recognizing Paragon Ranch. We are truly proud to call ourselves members of the Stallion Batallion,” Everett says to more applause. Everett continues, “I’d like to bring out the entire Coburn family to help with tonight’s coin toss, if you don’t mind?” The entire Coburn clan trots onto the field, gathering around Everett. I know I should probably look at this family with disdain. I know Merry Carole, Fawn, and Dee are doing just that right about now. But I can’t. I can’t take my eyes off of Everett. He turns around and looks at his family as they wait expectantly behind him. He turns back around and looks out into the crowd. He continues, “You know . . . we’re actually missing one person. I’m going to ask that person to join me down here on the field. It’s the woman I love, and as most of you already know, have loved my entire life.”

All eyes shoot to me.

Dee shoves me into a standing position. I look at Merry Carole, who’s sitting there with her hand clapped over her mouth. I smile at her and look back down on the field. Cal has taken his helmet off and is looking from Everett to me. I just stand there.

“Queenie Wake, come make an honest man out of me,” Everett says, staring right at me.

And before I can think, I thread my way through the various feet and knees of the packed bleachers, the muffled sound pounding in my ears. I hop down the stairs and run across the field looking at no one but Everett. He hands the microphone to Reed and steps forward. I leap into his arms and