Slap.

“She’s dating fucking Chatty Charlie.”

Thwack.

“How the fuck is he always with the ones I wanna fuck?”

Sccchlick.

“And how did she leave making me feel like the bad one? She’s dating someone else!”

I launch my last puck at the net, turning and leaning on my stick when Hanson doesn’t say anything.

“Well? Am I talking to myself here?”

“That’s what it sounds like to me.” He grins, unrepentant.

Bastard. He’s taking entirely too much joy in this.

“Tell me I’m not crazy, man. I didn’t do shit wrong here.” We skate to the bench, and rub towels over our faces, heading back to the locker room. Season hasn’t started yet, and we don’t like to make our equipment guys handle our shit any more than they have to.

I unlace my skates, shaking my head. It’s been a week and I’m still hot over what happened.

Anger-wise and lust-wise.

Even with my history, having my fingers deep in a sweet pussy like hers by chance like that? That’s new shit.

“I can’t believe this one chick has you wrapped up like this. And I have no comment on if you’re crazy or not bro, you probably said some dumb shit that you’re not telling me.”

“I did no such thing,” I grumble, snatching my towel from my locker. “Charlie’s a climber, we both know that. You think he’d date anyone different?”

“So what’s it say about you that now there are two women you have in common with him?”

I launch an empty water bottle at Hanson and he ducks, laughing at my scowl. “I’m going to grab my shower, fuck-face.”

* * *

“Harlan, what are you doing here?” I can’t help smiling when I hear my mom’s muffled voice.

Because of course, she’s under her truck. She rolls out from under it, hopping up like a woman much younger.

“How’d you know it was me?”

“Come on, you know I know I could pick the purr of that beauty out of a lineup.” She looks longingly at my car, which I’ve refused to let her drive.

She’s a wannabe drag racer, I swear.

Michelle Torero is a tiny woman, and I ruffle her curly mop of dark hair precisely because I know it’ll earn me a hard swat.

“Stop eye-fucking my baby that way, it’s inappropriate.”

“Don’t make me come up there for language, young man.” I grab up one of her towels she leaves laying around and motion for her to turn her cheek. Always a grease monkey.

She and my brother moved without a second thought the minute I got traded from Boston to New York last year.

“Wasn’t my first word because of your bad language?” I follow her into the house from the connecting garage door, and toe my shoes off.

“What, you questioning my parenting now?” She unzips her olive coveralls and drops them into a basket by the door.

“Never, Ma,” I grin, dropping down into a seat at the dining room table.

“I didn’t think I’d have to see your ugly mug for another few days.” My younger brother comes loping down the stairs and I stand, bear hugging him.

Man, it’s good to see family.

“I assume you came over to mooch off my food?” He drops down into a seat across from me, leaving the head chair for Ma.

“I had a dream about Lasagne last night and I decided it was a sign.” Out of habit, I look over my bro while he’s not watching. He was getting bullied for a little bit there, but refused to tell us what it was about or who was doing it. It stopped fairly quickly or else I would’ve gone over his head about it.

“Yah huh, and I make the same thing every Wednesday, you goof.” My mom puts a basket of bread on the table, and my brother grabs beers from the ice chest.

“It always tastes like the first time to me. What else is left to do?” I head to the kitchen, already knowing the answer so I pop open the fridge. I grab the salad bag and pour it into a bowl. It’s the bacon Caesar salad one we all like, really the only one we tolerate.

Ma tosses the tongs on top of the bowl as I pass, and she follows to the table with the steaming dish of meaty, cheesy goodness.

Hot damn, there aren’t many things I love more than my Ma’s cooking.

We bow our heads and my brother says grace before we crack open our beers and dig in. Nicolo is 17, but ma’s never been the strict type.

“So, what’s the real reason you’re over here mid-week and what’s her name?” Nico talks with his mouth full and my mom punches his arm, prompting him to scoff.

“Act like you were raised with some manners or something, you gump.”

“I think it’s a little late for appearances, Ma.” I cut a piece with the side of my fork, and raise an eyebrow, avoiding her question.

“Well whoever she is, do I get to meet her? I never get to meet your girls, I’m starting to feel neglected. I’ve even met Nico’s little harem.”

“I don’t have a harem.” He mumbles, blush staining his cheeks. All three of us have the same hazel eyes, but then Nico and I look more like carbon copies of our dad.

Really strong jaws, large builds, dark hair with a little widows peak, and the inability to grow a full beard.

I tried once. Ma said it looked like I’d pasted patchy pubes to my chin. I shaved it off that same night.

“Listen, if you do, just make sure they’re not all close friends. That gets messy. Too much hassle for the reward.” I happen to glance up and see Ma giving me the eye and I backpedal. “You know, because you only need one woman anyways. I just hear that’s extra work.” I clear my throat.

“I’m not even into girls right now.” I meet those eyes that we share and see the defiance in my brother’s eyes, then trail my gaze to his hands where he’s holding his fork so tight that his knuckles are losing color.

Ma nearly chokes on her bread and I pat her back, passing her the water that usually sits untouched in the middle of the table.

“What do you mean right now? And next time, maybe make sure I don’t have food in my mouth.”

“I just…I’m trying some new things.” The defiance is still clear in Nico’s voice, like he expects us to shame him or something.

It doesn’t feel like huge news to me, so I don’t know what to say. The kid’s old enough to know what he wants. And even if he were younger, it’s not my life.

“Just…tell me you’re pitchin’ and not catching.” My mom says, a serious look on her face and I gape. “Catchin’ is less comfortable.”

I audibly gag, and Nico is so shocked that his eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their sockets. Ma looks between us for a second before she bursts out laughing, cackling so hard that there are tears running down her face.

“God, you two are so easy. Nico, you do whoever you want kid. I’d like to think this is a family that’s a family no matter what, yeah?”

I nod, still grimacing and trying to keep my dinner down. “Just wrap it up. Safe sex is the best sex, any gender. Why were you nervous about telling us?”

“I don’t know. I still…I’m trying to figure it out. I didn’t even think I liked guys. I mean, I like girls a lot. But then I met this guy, and…I don’t know. Maybe.” Nico rubs the back of his neck, staring down at the table.

Obviously, the kid’s still struggling with knowing exactly what’s going on.

“Well you’ve got a lot of life left to figure out specifics. For now, just go with what makes you happy, bro. We love you no matter what.” I pick up my beer and realize it’s empty.

Good, this is too much sappy shit for my comfort.

“Alright, I call dibs on the movie pick.” Grabbing up my empty plate and Ma’s, I hear their groans behind me as they follow with their dishes.

“At least it’s not Ma wanting to rewatch Fast & Furious.” Nico pipes up and we laugh, ignoring my mom’s grumbling.

Nothing trumps family.