Page 44 of Where You Belong


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“I don’t have an ‘L,’ dumb dumb.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. “Dumb dumb?”

She rolls her eyes. “Force. Crap. I don’t have an ‘O.”

“Farce.”

Her green eyes snap up to mine and grow wide. Then she types it in, and there’s a dinging sound. “Ha. Eat that, Grandma. I better text her and tell her to pull out the ol’ checkbook for that one.”

She taps away on the screen and then drops her phone in her bag. She turns to face me, leaning her shoulder against the wall.

“You two wager on a word game?”

“You’ve met my Gem. Does she strike you as a woman who’d give a single brain cell away for free?”

“That woman frightens me.”

Andie laughs, her green eyes like two rare shiny emeralds. “You’re a smart man to be afraid.”

“So, what’s my cut?” Her dark eyebrows come together. “I gave you the winning word.”

“Ha. You’re not getting a dime from me. I’ve given that woman more money, and it’s finally her turn to pay up. You’d have to beat me in Words all on your own, buddy.”

Her phone dings. She retrieves it and turns the screen to show me.

GEMMA: Next round, you’re going down, sweet cheeks.

Her face shines brighter than the sun. Andie is really beautiful, and something tells me she has no idea. If I were in a different place, I’d take advantage of this whole working together thing and spend every spare minute with her. Her spunk, sassiness, and authenticity are contagious, and I’m finding the more I’m around her, the more I want to be.

Andie has this way of setting me on edge and pushing all of my buttons no one else seems to know are there. At the same time, she makes me feel so completely normal in a way that I haven’t experienced in a very long time, maybe ever. There’s no pretense with this woman or anything artificial about her. She’s a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of person, and it’s invigorating.

“What happened to your elbow?” She pokes the ice pack with her finger.

“Overextension. It’ll be fine.”

“Does that prevent you from playing?”

I shake my head. “Not much keeps me from playing. It has to be pretty bad for us to sit out.” I adjust the ice pack, and she watches me like she wants to ask something but doesn’t.

The door next to us opens, and a couple of people step out as Miranda calls us in. The room is tiny, with a table and chairs crammed inside and no windows. I gesture for Andie to go in first, being polite but also allowing me to keep the door open. We sit opposite Miranda, and a second later, Craig scurries in, and I hear the door click behind me.

While I try to remind myself the door is easily pulled back open, he takes a seat at the end of the eight-person table, barely acknowledging us as he taps away on his phone.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting.” Miranda starts. “Nora’s provided me with a detailed outline of your plans so far, and it’s better than I could have ever imagined.” She clasps her hands together in front of her. “Let’s talk logistics. I need to get myteam working, and we need to set a date. From Nora’s notes, it would be ideal if it matches up with a game day so that we can offer the families a box, and Mr. McNeil would like to welcome them as well. He’s onboard with what I’ve shared.”

She pauses, scrolling through the email Nora sent, which was extremely detailed and contained my desire to invite local foster kids and their families. I roll my neck, trying to stretch, reminding myself I can breathe.

“Andie, Nora provided me with a list of what your band will need for the event. I’ll get someone to review it and ensure we’ve got everything covered. You’re welcome to invite any additional family or guests, and they’ll also receive passes to the game.”

“Thank you,” Andie says.

“Based on what Nora has here, you’ll be reaching out to the local VA so they know how to register families.”

Andie nods. “Yes, we’ll do that as soon as we have approval so they have time to register.”

“Perfect. Sean.” Miranda says my name, pulling me out of the tiny hole I’m sinking into. “How do you want to handle getting in touch with foster families? Do you have a specific organization you want to work with or–”

“What?” Craig finally pulls his head out of his phone and stares down the table at us. “What’s this talk about foster families?”

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