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Molly Gilmore talked down on her hometown often, but that was because she'd grown far too accustomed to the repeative, every day activities. When she sat back though, letting herself take in the true beauty of it, she adored it. The small town, where everyone knew everyone, the festivities when the slightest thing happened—it was truly a dream.
Days like today, she found herself getting up early enough to get a coffee before heading into town. The people weren't huge on sports, they'd barely had the funding to buy proper gear for the teams. But, when they had someone like Wyatt Danes playing for their team, a future all-star player, they'd throw a parade for the season starting.
Word got around quick, the slightest whispers of the scouts and contracts Wyatt had been signing and the town was all for it. Molly knew why they, or Taylor Doose, was doing it and it didn't settle well. All the man ever cared about was tourism and if Wyatt made a name for himself, he could make a name for their town.
She wouldn't fight it though, anything she could do to support her best friend, she would.
Even if it meant getting up at eight in the morning on a Saturday.
"Luke, coffee or I will die right here." Molly fell dramatically to the bar stool, eyes barely open despite walking a block from her house. She was exhausted, having stayed up on the phone with Beau to make sure he knew what time to come.
"What do you want to eat?" Luke asked, pouring her a cup without argument.
"Lucas, I need coffee then food." She grumbled, almost as grumpy as he was. Except, he didn't seem that way today, sporting a smile and a new hat with 'the Minutemen' and number 17 embroidered on it.
"French toast coming up." Luke set the mug in front of her before heading towards the kitchen.
Seconds later, the blond came bouncing down the stairs. He had a duffle slung over his shoulder, stick in hand and less of a smile than Luke had.
"Not excited for the fight game?" Molly asked, reaching for the sugar packets.
"Gotta get in the zone. I'm fucking amped but—" he sucked in a deep breath, "my D game has to be top notch."
She stiffled a laugh at his phrasing, "your D—"
"Shush." Wyatt let out his own laugh, setting his gear beside her. "Dad! Wheres my water bottle? I can't find it anywhere upstairs." He traveled behind the counter, opening each cupboard before letting out a quiet 'a-hah' and holding it up for the entirety of the diner to see.
"WD, ready for the big game?" Kirk asked, sat at the table behind Molly's seat.
"Not that big of a game, pal. Just a season start. I am excited to see how my new line is gonna go." Wyatt responded, walking back towards the kitchen. "Yo, dad, you got my—" Luke shoved out a bag and the teen grinned.
