The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(7)

“The feeling is mutual, Haze,” I say, taking in her rosy, freckled cheeks and the way her hair softly falls over her forehead. Thank you, Pops. How easy it will be to travel with one of my best friends.

Eyes softening, she asks, “How have you been? I saw your season . . .” She winces.

“Yeah,” I huff out, staring down at the way her small hand fits in mine, the callouses on her fingers from all the hard work on the farm reminding me just how different our lives are, despite a lot of the variables being the same. “Wasn’t my best show on the field. Just wasn’t in it mentally.”

“I can understand that.” She squeezes my hand and then says, “But we’re not here to talk about all of your interceptions, and I mean all of them . . .” When I glance up at her, she’s smiling a Julia Roberts smile. I poke her side and she laughs, her head falling back as she pushes my hand away.

“How have you been, Hazel?” God, I’ve missed this girl.

“Oh, you know, just living the life out on the farm. Got caught up in some mourning, ate way too much pumpkin pie this past fall. Did you get your fair share of pumpkin spice lattes?” She nudges me. “I know what a basic bitch you are.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I had a few.”

“A few? I remember senior year in high school when you were drinking one a day. At least, that’s what you wrote to me. Then again, it has been almost four years . . .”

“Has it?” I ask, knowing damn well it’s been nearly four years since I’ve really seen her. Since . . . hell, since I ran from her. Sure, I technically saw her at Pops’ funeral but I wasn’t in the right head space to talk to anyone.

“Clearly you haven’t been counting.” She lets out a sigh and then slaps on a smile. “Enough with the catch-up, we can do that throughout the trip. We’re here to celebrate Pops.”

There’s hesitation in her eyes and I want to address the elephant in the room, the thing that we were probably both thinking the minute we saw each other, but before I can do that, she leans forward and pulls an envelope from her backpack. The familiar handwriting on the front says The Plane.

“Is that—” I swallow hard. “Is that from Pops?”

She nods and fans her face with it. “Yup, I’ve been entrusted with the letters. Apparently, Pops didn’t trust you to not read them all at the same time.”

“There’s more?”

She nods slowly. “Oh yeah, there are more.” Her head tilts to the side. “How much do you know about this trip?”

“Practically nothing. Just that we’re going to Germany.”

“Well, I don’t know much either, but what I do know, I’m excited about.”

“What do you know?”

She taps her chin.

I’m in a good mood from her exuberance and the familiarity of having Hazel Allen in my sights again. It’s like running into a warm hug when you see her. Positive, encouraging, always smiling and laughing—she’s a breath of fresh air.

Damn, looks like Pops knew exactly what I needed.

An old friend.

“You know, I think we should just enjoy this flight and catch up. Let the letters lead us.” She winks and then holds the letter up between us with two fingers. “Want to read it together?”

Hell, I’m not sure I’m ready, but then again, knowing Hazel, she’s going to open it either way. Another reason why I think Pops planned out this whole thing. He knows Hazel’s going to push me outside of my comfort zone. She’s going to challenge me, and we’re going to have one hell of a time doing it.

Nodding toward the letter, I say, “Open it.”

A satisfied smile passes over her glossy lips as she tears open the envelope and unfolds a piece of notebook paper.

I never thought I’d see his writing again. It makes me feel more connected to him as I stare down at the familiar chicken-scratch scribble. In my mind, I can see exactly what blue pen he used, too. The same pen he used for everything. A classic Bic with the blue top, a top he always tended to lose.

Where the Franklin Pierce did I put that blasted thing?

The memory of him slamming his head on the kitchen table while ducking under to look for the pen cap flashes through my mind, putting a smile on my face.

“Want me to read it out loud, or should we read it to ourselves at the same time?”

“Read it to ourselves,” I say.

She holds it between us and I prepare myself.

Hey Kiddos,

So, you made it on the plane. My guess is Hazel, you packed up immediately and waited by the door, ready to take off as soon as you found out. And Crew, you put up a bit of a fit, only to be dragged to the airport while your mother cried the whole time, am I right?

My nostrils flare and Hazel snorts while looking at me. “Oh my God, did you throw a fit?”

I shift in my seat and say, “I wouldn’t call it a fit.”

She laughs out loud and reaches over to grab my hand. “Oh, Crew, always so unruly.”

She turns back to the letter while I try not to curse Pops out in my head.

Sure, I gave my parents a bit of a hard time, but then again, I had my reasons . . .

Either way, you’re both reading this now (you better be) and you must be wondering why I’m sending you on a trip to Germany. It’s simple . . . you’ll find out along the way.