“But isn’t a kolache just bread wrapped around a hot dog? And I ate two of them this morning.”
Touché.
“Lindy! Jo!” Tank’s deep voice cuts through the noise of the announcers and the bands warming up. Not that we could miss him. The man is a solid wall in the middle of the crowd, which parts around him like a river on the bleacher steps. Most people stare in wonder as they pass, some of the older generations slapping him on the back or shoulders. I don’t miss that even women twenty years his junior—or more—are eyeing him.
Jo takes off, and before I can even tell her to wait, Tank sweeps her up in his arms. He swings her around, his deep, booming laugh a perfect complement to Jo’s high-pitched giggles.
“Hey, Mr. Tank!”
“Hello, Jojo. Looking mighty festive tonight, aren’t you?”
She looks adorable. Pat brought home shirts for us both and pompom scrunchies in school colors. He wasn’t home to help with her hair, but I managed two high ponytails with blue and white scrunchies. My hair is staying down. I draw the line at pompoms in the hair. Did I mention Pat thought a cowbell was also a good idea? Jo shakes it too close to Tank's ear and we both wince.
“Jo! Remember our discussion? No close-range cowbell,” I tell her, mouthing an apology to Tank.
“Sorry, Mr. Tank,” she says.
“It’s all right, Jojo. I just might be a little hard of hearing on the left side tonight. No biggie.” He turns his infectious smile on me, holding out his free arm to give me a hug. “Good to see you, Lindy.”
Jo giggles as she’s squeezed between us. I have to swallow down a massive lump in my throat as I pull back from Tank. He’s still got Jo perched on his hip like he’s been doing this forever. This feels like a tease, something I could almost claim as my own, almost real.
Get back down, you stupid throat lump!
“We’re all up there,” Tank says, pointing. “The rowdiest bunch in the stadium.”
I look up, shocked when I see a full row of bleachers taken up by Pat’s family and friends right alongside mine, united in a wall of hometown blue.
They are attracting stares already. I’m sure some because of the famous faces （Tank and Collin） and some because non-Sheeters aren’t usually allowed on the hometown side. Then there’s the whole thing about Sheeters feuding with the Grahams over the town. But Pat is a coach, and that carries a lot of weight. Tonight, as with our wedding reception, the pitchforks have been left at home. Except for the Waters box above, where I’m sure a lot of people are glaring down.
But when are the Waters clan NOT looking down on the rest of us? Might as well let them do it from inside the box they paid for with their donations to the stadium. That way, we don’t have to look at them.
I should crochet a pillow: Football and Weddings Bring Us Together. I don’t crochet, so I’ll have Val do it. I don’t think she crochets either, but she’d probably take it as a creative challenge.
My heart constricts again as I scan the row. They’re all here, even the grumpy James, who’s standing next to an equally grumpy-looking Winnie. Dale was supposed to come and cancelled due to a last-minute accounting emergency. From the looks of it, Winnie is taking out her disappointment on James.
Val is talking to Harper, and even Thayden and Delilah are here. Judge Judie and Mari stand next to more of Harper’s friends I don’t remember meeting. The woman has dyed the bottom half of her hair Sheet Cake Blue. Now, THAT’S school spirit.
If the people in our row aren’t holding posters, they’ve got pompoms, and even Ashlee stands at the end next to Collin, wearing a jersey and cutoffs. I blink. I catch Collin sneaking a look at her legs. Because how can you not???
This sight also has me fighting a steady rise of emotion, which I’m sure has as much to do with the impending hearing as it does my growing feelings for Pat and the instalife and instafamily he provides.