Page 88 of Kickoff

Her turquoise eyes searched mine. “Do you wanna visit the pumpkin patch next weekend? It could be fun. I saw an ad announcing ax-throwing and log-chopping competitions and a giant corn maze.”

“We could hit the fair afterward. Unless you already have plans?”

“Paige and I talked about going together on Sunday because I have a meet on Saturday. Maybe we could go…the four of us…and you know…hang out. Just a thought.”

“It’s a date then.”

“A date?”

I cleared my throat. “It’s a plan.”

She untied her hair and positioned herself against my arm, a yawn parting her lips.

I cupped the back of her head, staring at her. “Want me to go so you can rest?”

“Not yet.” She yawned again. “I’m comfy.”

“Fine by me.”

I was just about to dig into the cheesecake bites when Melinda slumped against my side, the weight of her head heavy on my upper arm, and I realized she had fallen asleep. I put the container down and pulled the comforter over her figure. For the longest time, I watched her sleep before moving to my feet and tucking her in. She had shadows under her eyes, and her silhouette appeared slighter than usual dressed in baggy clothes. I wished I could pull her into my arms and sleep here, but we hadn’t discussed it, and I couldn’t invite myself over. I lifted the pizza box to discard it when I noticed she had put her own slices back inside, barely having taken a few bites. On top of her physical changes, her headache and loss of appetite, it looked concerning. Was she sick again? Could someone get a complication from an appendectomy weeks later? Paige said Melinda was stressed about college applications. Could that be enough to affect her health? Could it be more than that?

A part of me dreaded to leave her side. What if she really was sick again and I was too far away to help her out this time? I debated my options in my head. I couldn’t panic every time she didn’t feel well, and the Shepards would be home soon.

I touched her forehead. No fever. I pressed two fingers to the pulse point on her wrist. Her heartbeat was steady. Maybe she was just overdoing it and was tired. We should slacken on the training schedule until she got some strength back. Yeah, I would talk to her about it tomorrow.

I grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper from her desk and wrote down a note I put under her phone that was getting charged on the nightstand.

Holding the leftovers in my hand, I made my way to the door only to go back to her side and kiss her cheek. This would have to be enough to get my fill of Melinda Shepard for the day.

“Night,” I whispered as I closed her bedroom door behind me.

23

It’s called lumberjill

“I can’t believe you finished second in ax throwing,” Paige said, jumping into Melinda’s arms. “I had no idea you could swing an ax and hit a target like you’ve been training for it all your life.”

“Me neither,” she said, laughing when they stepped apart and she removed her jacket from my hands. Melinda had won a teddy bear wearing a tiny plaid shirt as a prize for winning the last ax-throwing round and received an offer to join the local women’s team.

“Who knew? Perhaps you should join the circuit and become a lumber…lady,” Craig said, high-fiving her.

“I think it’s called lumberjill,” Paige argued. “Not sure, though. Sounds weird. Who cares?”

I draped an arm over Melinda’s shoulders, pulling her against me. “You’re a rock star, Shepard. That was pretty impressive.”

“Think you can do better?” She watched me with expectant eyes.

I raked my fingers through my hair. “I’m not sure I wanna try. You kinda upped the stakes.” She smiled as I sang her praises. “All the pressure is on me now.”

Craig chuckled. “Stop being a chickenshit, Mase, and prove to us you can do it too.” He turned to Melinda. “I’m so thankful you’re putting a dent in his ego. Good riddance.”

I elbowed my brother’s side. “Shut up.”

Craig grinned bigger. “You wish. Come on, superstar, show us what you’ve got.”

I entered the competition and listened to the instructions and safety guidelines before taking a stance in front of a wooden target.

“You have ten takes,” the man in charge of the stand told me. “The first five are for practice and don’t count. They are six people competing against one another. The person with the best overall score wins a prize. Are you ready?”