When the final buzzer went off, Molly jumped up and down and hugged Richard. “We killed them! We killed them.”
Grinning, he lifted her in his arms and stole a kiss. “Yeah, we did.”
The whole West Fork contingent was jumping up and down. The bleachers thundered and groaned.
They went outside to wait by the bus for the players to come out of the dressing room. It was so cold, they all hunched in their parkas and breathed in dragon puffs but stayed warm from excitement. When the boys swaggered out, the applause was loud and long. Molly loosed another whistle, which had all the boys grinning this time. Richard saw Cait roll her eyes—oh, God, her mother was making a spectacle of herself—but she was smiling at the same time, and her cheeks were pink.
They got pinker when Trevor stopped to put an arm around her and murmur something in her ear. That silenced Molly and Richard both. He remembered what she’d said Thursday. No, he definitely did not want Trevor imagining himself in love with Caitlyn—the mother of his child.
Disaster that way lies.
Was Trevor smart enough to understand what he’d be giving up if he did something stupid now?
Richard almost groaned. The kid was seventeen. Of course he wasn’t. Good God, he wasn’t smart enough to use a damn condom.
Maybe, it occurred to Richard, the easing of tension between the Callahans and the Wards hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Maybe it would have been better if they’d stayed enemies.
Maybe Molly was right, and they should do some serious thinking before they all got in over their heads.
CHAPTER TWELVE
NINE O’CLOCK ON THE NOSE, the phone rang. Molly didn’t have to look at the number on the screen to know it was Richard’s. In line with her decision to keep some distance from him, she hadn’t answered last night. Tonight, she told herself she didn’t want to cut him off entirely. Being cautious didn’t mean she couldn’t talk to him sometimes, or be friendly at games.
And she already missed him, after only one day without talking to him. Oh, I’m in such trouble.
“Hey,” he said. “Wondered if you were planning to go to the game tomorrow night.”
She glanced at the school calendar, always kept handy. Friday, November 30. Home game, West Fork vs. LS. As if she hadn’t known.
“I told you I never miss a home game.” She was smiling because it felt so good to hear his voice.
“Can I pick you and Cait up?”
“I…” Her mouth opened and closed. “Actually, Cait’s going with a friend. And sleeping over.” Tomorrow night was going to be the big night, when she was going tell her best friend, Sabrina, about the pregnancy.
“You, then?” Richard said quietly.
“Yes,” she heard herself say. “I’d like that.” They’d have fun at the game, and then…then he’d bring her home. To a house the two of them would have to themselves. For an entire night.
I won’t invite him in. I don’t dare invite him in.
They agreed on a time. Neither made any effort to prolong the conversation, even though a part of Molly wanted to, and she suspected he did, too. She felt so high school lately—eager for the sound of one voice, hungry for any tidbit about his life.
In love.
Huge mistake.
No, they could make it work. But later. Much, much later.
* * *
THE GYMNASIUM WAS standing-room only the next night. West Fork stomped Lake Stevens. Embarrassed them. Made up for every humiliation in the past ten years. It was Trevor, of course, but not entirely. He made his teammates better, and they all played like champions, even the boys coming off the bench. The second string stretched the lead further, and the crowd rejoiced. Coach Bowman was near tears when Molly saw him after the game.
“It’s the Promised Land,” he told her, and she felt obliged to pat him on the shoulder and remind him that the season had barely begun.
“Snohomish,” he was murmuring as he wandered away, seemingly in a daze. “Lake Stevens.”
“I’m glad Trevor has made somebody happy,” Richard said, gazing after him quizzically.
“He made a lot of people happy tonight.”
“That’s not the same.”
“Now, Coach Loomis—” she nodded toward where the beefy football coach stood by the locker room doors “—is no doubt grinding his teeth because his team had a lousy season, and now he’s seeing the might-have-been.”
“The ghosts of Christmas past?”
“Something like that.”
He only laughed, his mood obviously as ebullient as everyone else’s. As he escorted her from the gym with his hand coming to rest now and again at the small of her back, Molly wondered if it had occurred to him that they could have a night to themselves. Well, not entirely; presumably Trevor would wonder where Dad was if he didn’t come home. Unless…