Preston

After the hostess shows us to the private room I booked at Luciano’s, Bex slides into the massive booth next to me. Her bare legs brush against mine, and I can’t help but touch her. Tiny bumps dot her legs, so responsive, as always. I slide my other arm across her shoulders, and she rests her head on my chest for a second.

She scans the large room. There’s a long oak bar on one wall, more tables and booths on the other side. Our table is lit by candlelight and the dim chandelier hanging above us. My parents love this restaurant. It’s their spot. And I thought, with Bex, that maybe it could be ours, too. I find myself wanting to have things with her, things we share together. She makes it so easy to be with her, yet still so difficult with her dad not knowing about us.

“I can’t believe you did all this for our first date,” she beams.

“It’s a special occasion.” I press my lips to hers, leaving her with a soft kiss that causes her to moan when our lips separate. “Plus, I wanted some privacy.”

“We definitely have that.”

I squeeze her knee, my fingers traveling up her inner thigh. “We could have sex in this room, and no one would even know. No one would care even if they caught us.”

She smiles. “Maybe we should eat dinner first before we christen this room.”

I run my hand through her hair and kiss her lips. “Or I could make you the meal instead.”

She chuckles. “You’re such a bad boy.” She cups her hand over my growing erection. “And so are you,” she tells my dick. “Both of you need to settle down.”

I laugh at her comments.

Our waitress enters the room through the French doors, breaking up our conversation. Familiar with the menu, I order for both of us. Bex doesn’t protest. Everything in the restaurant is served family style, which makes it easier to order.

“Good choice,” Bex says after the waitress leaves us. “I’ve never had someone order for me before. It takes all the thinking out of the equation.”

“My parents get the chicken parmigiana with penne pasta and salad every time we come here. I guess I’m a creature of habit.”

“Or you just don’t like change,” she counters.

“Maybe.” I shrug. “But if that were true, we wouldn’t be here right now. I never kept a girl around for more than a few days before I met you, and with some, even that was too long.”

“I wish I could say I’m surprised.”

“I was a walking stereotype before we met, huh?”

She nods. “You bet your ass you were. When I ran into you, I thought you were such a pig.”

“I still am,” I quip, slipping my hand into her panties.

“You know what I mean,” she whispers. Her face twists into a painful expression when I shove my fingers inside her.

“Always so wet for me.” I dip my head down to kiss her neck, as I fuck her with my fingers.

“Preston,” she moans.

“That’s it, baby.”

She tightens her grip on my fingers, holding them in a vise as she comes all over them. I raise them to my mouth to suck her juices. And in record time. Because the second I lick my fingers clean, the waitress strolls into the room with our salads. The air stinks of sex and Italian food.

She sets our salads in front of us, refills our wine glasses, and then disappears once more.

“That was a close call,” Bex says. “How awkward would that have been if I was in the middle of coming when she opened the door?”

“I guess it would have given her something to think about later.” I wink. “Because I wouldn’t have stopped trying to make you come.”

“You have no problem doing that.” Bex lifts her fork and digs into her salad, speaking between bites. “What time do your parents want my dad and me to come over for Thanksgiving?”

“Whenever. Everyone usually comes over for the kickoff of the first game. So around noon or so.”

She nods. “Who’s playing this year?”

“Bears and Lions, Redskins and Cowboys—”

“Ugh, I hate the Cowboys,” she interrupts.

“As any self-respecting Philadelphian should,” I say.

She laughs. “You sound like my dad.”

“Falcons and Saints are the late-night game,” I add. “I don’t know if you guys will want to stick around for that, but it’s kind of a house rule. No one leaves until the games are over.”

“I have to spend twelve hours at your parents’ house?” She stuffs her mouth with lettuce. “That’s a long ass time. Turkey dinner with my dad usually consists of one of those take-out meals you can order from the supermarket, followed by football and pumpkin pie. The night usually ends with him passed out on the couch, snoring.”

“Has it always been just the two of you?”

“Pretty much. My mom left so many years ago I can’t even remember what it’s like to have her around. Not like I would want her there anymore. But I did when I was younger. My parents are both only children, and so am I, so I never had aunts or uncles around. Grams passed away a few years ago. She would come over and help me cook, until she got too sick to stand in the kitchen.”

“I’m glad you’re spending the day with us.” I cup her knee with my hand. “My family is big. You are warned. They will ask you tons of questions, probably hug the shit out of you. There might even be some kissing from my aunts who will die when they see you.”

“This is really that big of a deal for you? You never had a girlfriend in high school?”

“No. Just girls I hung out with. Nothing serious. Hockey has always been my number one priority. Every coach I ever had told me to focus on being the best and not to worry about settling down with a girl. My parents reinforced that, drilled it into my head.”

“I can see that,” she mutters. “Your schedule is so hectic. It doesn’t leave much time to date.”

“If anyone gets it, you do. That’s why this works so well with us.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “It does make it easier that we have similar practice and game schedules. I wish I could see more of your games.”

“I’m coming to your game against Villanova. We don’t have a game that weekend, and of course, my mom is going since that’s her alma mater.”

“Don’t go making me nervous.” She bites her lip. “So, your whole family will be at my game?”

“Pretty much.” I pat her arm to soothe her concerns. “No pressure.”

She laughs. “Yeah, none at all.”

My parents’ living room is packed to the brim with family. The scent of turkey wafts through the air. All the men are on the couches, drinking beer and yelling at the football game taking place on TV. This is normal for Thanksgiving.

Even though my mom doesn’t cook, she’s in the kitchen. Aunt Sydney and her daughter, Chloe—Drake’s mom and sister—sit on stools next to Aunt Kennedy and her daughter, Ava—the Kane twins’ mom and older sister. Between the four families in this house, our parents have twelve children. None of them are related to me by blood. But they’re still my family, the only one I’ve ever known.

I introduce Bex and Coach Bryant to everyone, and they look overwhelmed, as if they need to remember all of their names. It’s a lot for anyone to take in.

Coach Bryant squeezes my shoulder. “Thanks for inviting us, Preston. This is a nice change of pace for us. Bex hasn’t had a home cooked meal in a long time.”

“Yeah, this is nice,” Bex says. “Thanks for having us.”

She’s pretending as if we’re friends and that my mom invited her for dinner. But keeping my shit together, without spilling the beans, is not easy. I almost slipped three times since they got here.

Coach Bryant scans the room and then locks onto me. “Where’s your brother?”

“JP had a client emergency to deal with. He won’t be here until dinnertime.”

“I would hate to work on a holiday,” Coach says.

I shrug. “Missed holidays are normal in this family. My parents were on the road a fair amount when I was a kid.”

“That must have been tough on you and your brother.”

I shrug. “Not really. My aunts and Uncle Jameson were always around when my parents were out of town. We made it work.”

“That’s what makes our team so special.” He smiles. “You guys play like a family on the ice. I have a good feeling about this year.”

I return his smile. “I do, too. I want to end this season on a good note, make it easier for the NHL to draft me.”

“I have no doubt you’ll make it,” he assures me. “You’re just like your dad.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

I feel horrible for dating Bex behind his back. But staying away from her wasn’t an option. She stole fragments of my heart, taking pieces over time, collecting them until all of it belonged to her. Now, she has the power to break it.

There’s only one thing in our way, one thing keeping us from being truly happy. I have to get the balls to tell Coach Bryant about us. Now, if only I can find the courage to do that.

Hours pass by, with lots of drunken yelling and football bets being taken, before Mom calls us into the dining room for dinner. We sit in our usual places, saving the spot next to my dad for JP. Normally, I would sit next to my mom, except holidays are different. My aunts gab about girly crap with my mom, and I hang out with Jamie, Drake, Tucker, and Trent. Since we’re all the same age, we tend to stick together.

But with Bex and Coach Bryant here, the group has expanded. My dad made some room for Coach Bryant on his side of the table, welcoming him into the family. Bex is on my right, in the middle of the table with my usual crew. It’s a full house, only one seat open and that belongs to JP.

My mom glances up every so often, looking for JP. She didn’t want to start dinner without him, but everyone was starving. We’d run out of snacks an hour before and we were slowly getting drunker and more irritated.

“Bex,” my mom says. “How would you like to help me out with Philly Clean this year?”

Philly Clean is a youth basketball event my mom has sponsored and helped run every year since she started working at DMG. The players from the Sixers work with kids on ball handling and various skills, and all of the proceeds go to Philly Clean, a charity that helps drug addicts get off the streets and get clean. My grandparents were addicts, both of them dying from drug overdoses, which is how my mom ended up in foster care. It’s also the reason she met Jameson.

Bex’s eyes go wide. “Are you serious?”

Mom nods.

“Yeah. Uh… I would love to.” She smiles so wide her teeth are showing. “Thank you.”

Her excitement radiates off her. I love that she gets along with my mom. Things between us could never work out if she didn’t.

“I hear you’re a big Dante Fisher fan,” Mom says to Bex.

“The biggest,” Bex replies, smiling.

“Bex has posters of him on her bedroom walls,” Coach Bryant says.

Bex turns beat red, shooting her dad a warning look down the table. “Dad, c’mon. Don’t embarrass me. Please.”

The table erupts into laughter.

“If you come, you’ll get to meet him.” Mom finishes chewing her food. “Dante, I mean. He’s helping out with the kids this year.”

Bex squeals, covering her mouth with her hand. “Shut. Up.” She fans herself with her hand. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean for you to shut up. I’m just… wow! Like I have no idea what to say. Dante is so—”

Mom waves her hand. “I know what you mean. No need to worry. Even after ten years of retirement, he’s still the same player I signed out of high school. He’s arrogant, and a little much to take in all at once.” She points at my dad. “This one was the same way. Actually, all three of them were.”

She’s referring to Tyler Kane and Carter Donovan, who are sitting at the table, laughing.

“Tyler was the most arrogant player I’d ever met,” Aunt Kennedy chimes. “He was infuriating. Trying to get an interview with him was like pulling teeth.”

“Hey, babe, you got more than interview.” Tyler winks at her.

Three of their children make gagging sounds. The second oldest of the Kane’s, Tucker Jr., who everyone calls Tye, is missing this year.

“Daddy, that’s gross.” Ava, the oldest, flicks her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “People are trying to eat.”

“Hey, princess,” Tyler says, “I didn’t say anything wrong.”

Ava sips from her wine glass. “It was implied.”

She’s gorgeous, a fashion model who travels around the world for work. All of the Kane’s have the same blonde hair, blue eyes, and light features. Their mom has dark hair, all of them the spitting image of their dad. If Ava wasn’t like a sister to me, I would have been all over her years ago.

“So, how did you two meet?” Ava looks down the table at Bex and me.

“I ran into him in the locker room,” Bex admits, her cheeks flush.

Ava gives her a funny look. “Like the men’s locker room?”

Bex nods.

“Oh, now this I have to hear. Sounds juicy.”

“More like horrifying,” Bex says. “My dad told me to meet him after practice. I didn’t realize the guys were still in the locker room, and well, let’s say that was kinda awkward.”

Coach Bryant shakes his head. “Needless to say, Bex found the side entrance to my office after that day.” He looks right at Bex. “No more entering through the locker room.”

“No, definitely not,” Bex says. “That’s one place I never want to walk through again.”

Everyone at the table laughs.

In the middle of dinner, JP shows up. He strolls into the dining room, his black coat dusted with snow.

“Sorry, I’m late.” JP bends down to kiss my mom first, followed by my aunts. “I got stuck in traffic on my way back from New York.”

“Take off your jacket, baby,” Mom says to him. “You’re getting snow all over the table.”

She still talks to us like we’re little kids, even though we’re grown ass men.

JP removes his coat, leaving it on a chair in the corner of the room. Dad stands up to hug him, and them pulls out the chair next to him. With JP across from us, he stares at Bex, wondering why he she doesn’t look familiar. I haven’t talked to him in so long he doesn’t even know I have a girlfriend now. He also has no idea it’s a secret.

Fuck.

“And who are you?” JP asks Bex. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Bex Bryant,” she lilts.

His eyes travel from Bex to me. “I can’t believe Preston has a girlfriend. Would you look at that?”

Bex’s expression turns to stone. She stares at JP, unblinking, unmoving, as if she’s frozen to her chair. Coach Bryant picks up on her reaction, and his eyes narrow, as if he’s just now understanding why he was invited to dinner.

“Bex and Preston are friends,” Coach Bryant says.

“I know my brother, and these two are definitely more than friends.” I shoot him a look to stop him from going any further, but he keeps going. “How come you didn’t tell me, little bro? I haven’t heard from you in over a month.”

Because I was too busy fucking Bex in every place on and off campus I could find.

Coach Bryant makes note of Bex’s awkward silence and my nervous fidgeting. “Is there something going on between you two?”

Who should answer? Bex or me?

“Coach,” I start. “I was gonna talk to you about this.”

He seems confused, but clearly understands I went behind his back. Thanks to JP, my favorite coach is now about to hate me. He holds the keys to my future in his hand. If he wants, he can take it out on me, bench me whenever he sees fit. Would he do that? I sure as hell hope not, or I can kiss my hockey career goodbye.

“My bad.” JP fills his plate with food. “I didn’t know you guys were…”

He doesn’t even know what to say, none of us do.

“How was the weather in New York?” Mom asks JP to change the subject.

“Worse than it is here. They had at least two more inches.”

The conversation returns to normal, with Coach Bryant shooting devious stares in my direction. He shakes his head at Bex and me, disappointed. She looks as though she wants to crawl under the table. I move my hand to her thigh, slipping her fingers between mine.

“It will be okay,” I say under my breath.

“I hope so,” she whispers.

For a split second, I wonder if this will ruin our relationship. The thought of returning to a life without Bex guts me. I hate the powerless feeling associated with being in love. It rips you apart from the inside out.