Page 72 of Good Directions

“The Sandlot.”

“Pardon?”

It’s like he stole the word straight from my brain. Because the plan was The Goonies—I know it was. I saw the poster in the grocery store the other evening when we went to grab food to cook dinner. Dolly mentioned it as well, since apparently all the town can talk about is the first non-cartoon being shown in decades.

“It’s now The Sandlot.”

“What happened to The Goonies?” Anton asks.

Pixie tsks, then looks around at the crowd milling about, as if she’s trying to make sure we’re not being listened to.

“Hattie Burch watched it, wanting to make sure that it’s appropriate, and then vetoed the choice. I mean, do you know what a Goonie is?” She tsks again, shaking her head. “So Moira Schneider and Stacey Conrad, who we mistakenly put in charge of this event, picked The Sandlot as a second choice. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it, since my girls were little, so I don’t remember if it’s entirely…”

“I’m sorry I asked,” Anton mutters, loud enough for only me to hear, as she continues to jabber on.

Looking down at me, he tugs me into his side, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. It’s more than enough to make my tummy flip and the butterflies take flight, the awkward uncomfortableness of Pixie’s inquiry flying away with them.

A loud crash drowns Pixie out for a second, all three of us searching to see where it came from. It doesn’t take long. The squeals of three small boys, followed almost immediately by the raised voices of adults, float through the air from the event tent, the boys sprinting out of the tent as fast as they can.

“Those darn Conrad boys…” Pixie exclaims, throwing her arms up. “They’re gonna burn this town down one of these days…”

Turning on her heel, she’s off and weaving through the crowd without saying goodbye faster than a palmetto bug skittering away from the light. Neither of us move for a moment, letting the crowd around us readjust after the commotion. As they do, I watch, and I wait…and that’s when it hits me.

I think I kind of like this.

“Sorry about that.” Pressing his lips to the crown of my head, Anton holds me close for a beat, then lets go, the warm, humid summer air feeling cool at the loss of him. “There’s a hierarchy to the Hickory Hills gossip circle, and Pixie has a reputation to uphold.”

I laugh. “Oh, is she top dog?”

“Not even close.”

Taking my hand, he leads me through the crowd, heading toward the open field where the movie will be shown. A massive screen is set up on one side, with rows and rows of blankets and other picnic setups laid out in front, cars and trucks parked behind, the townspeople of Hickory Hills getting all prepped and ready with their families and friends for the event.

“Dolly’s great-aunt, Hattie Burch, she’s the number one, and her right hand is our former math teacher, a woman named Gail Chamberlain. If you see her, watch out. Pixie is a good solid lieutenant though. As our company receptionist, she hears a lot, and has proven useful to them over the years. The next generation is being held up by Moira Schneider—Moira being daughter to Ken Noble, and therefore sister to Kenzie Wilder, slash sister-in-law to Dustin Wild, important to note—and Stacey Conrad, who is the receptionist at the vet and the daughter of the town judge. And those three hooligans are also her kids.”

“That’s going to hurt her long term.”

Anton stops, looking at me curiously. I smile knowingly, more than happy to be able to have one up on him here.

“You’re not the only one from a small town, sir. Hurricane Shoals might be a party stop for spring break to y’all, but behind the scenes, we are like any other small town. We have our own Pixies and Hattie Burches, and Huey, Dewey, and Louie troublemakers too.”

“So, you get it.”

He gestures toward a blanket, one that must have some distinguishing feature that I’m unaware of for him to know that it’s ours, so I follow his lead and sit.

“I do. And, can I tell you a secret?”

“Always.”

His eyes are so genuine, a beautiful blue that I feel can see deep into me, in a way that no one else can. Like when I tell him something, he’s listening with his heart. A fact that scares me as much as it excites me.

“I kinda like it.”

“Hickory Hills?”

I nod, reaching for him. His skin feels nice against mine—warm and rough, sending a tingle through me—our interlacing fingers fitting together perfectly.

“When I left Hurricane Shoals, I said I never wanted to live in another small town. Didn’t want to deal with the Abilene Reeds of the world anymore. That’s our Pixie Jerald, so you know. But, I dunno…something about doing it with you is different. Although, I think Brenna might be on to something with her whole ‘dating a Hayes needs to come with a warning’ thing.”