When I open the front door to the apartment, my goal is to slip stealthily back into my room the same way I slipped out. But the place is filled with the sound of family—plates and glasses clanging, laughter, talking and baby giggles. And the smell of my mom’s roast chicken and scalloped potatoes makes my mouth water and my stomach roar.
I glance into the kitchen, where Mom is standing at the stove, Zoey’s tossing a bowl of salad, and Winnie is slicing up chicken. Jude pops his head out of the dining room, sees me and walks into the hall. He’s got a smiling, gurgling Declan in his arms. I hate that my heart explodes when I see this—every time—and I want to hug Jude. Braddock siblings show love by annoying the crap out of each other and teasing each other mercilessly. This kid has thrown off our natural dynamic…. But he’s too damn cute to be mad at.
“Give me that chubby-cheeked nugget,” I demand and drop my purse on the floor as I reach for him. Jude hands Declan over, and I immediately nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his perfect baby smell and the silky feel of his baby skin on my cheek. Declan giggles.
“Why are you here?” Jude asks.
“Because I live here, genius,” I snark and make a silly face at Declan.
“Yeah, but Dix said you were out for the night,” Jude replies, and I glance over his shoulder and into the kitchen. Dixie is staring back at me with disappointment.
“I was hoping you’d be gone all night,” she says with melancholy in her voice.
“You thought I was going to go from coffee to nudity in one night?”
“I would,” Winnie adds as she walks by us in the hall and into the kitchen. I follow, frowning.
“Do not start talking about your love lives in front of—”
“Declan is too young to understand,” I interject.
“I was going to say in front of me,” Jude replies.
Zoey laughs at him and runs a hand over her son’s head as I pass by with him and head into the dining room to sit down. “Who were you on a date with?”
My eyes fly to my sisters, and I give them the loudest DO NOT SAY A WORD glare I can. They both snap their mouths shut at the same time. “Just someone I met at the hospital. It was no big deal. Not really a date. Super casual. Anyway, he had a thing and ended up having to cancel.”
The energy in the room shifts so fully and completely, like air being let out of a balloon, that I can feel it. Every face staring back at me is wearing various degrees of disappointment. “Jeez, family, it’s not the end of the world. Don’t worry, you’ll marry me off one day. Jude has enough money to pay someone to take me.”
“Oh, honey. Chill,” my mom says, and it makes the rest of her kids snicker. “We don’t want to marry you off. It’s just nice to think you’re getting out and meeting new people. You used to be such a social butterfly in Toronto. All you do now is work and hang out with us. We’re boring.”
“Yeah, you are,” I reply but grin at her and wink. “I’m not bored or lonely. It’s fine. Now can we talk about something else, or better yet, stop talking and eat? Everything smells delicious.”
“Eli! Dad!” Dixie calls down the hall.
Everyone sits around the table except Jude, who waits until Eli appears with my dad and helps him get his wheelchair pushed up to the table. Dad has trouble holding his utensils now, so Mom sits next to him and helps him. It’s still so painful to see, which makes it hard to look away. But if I do look at him for too long he gets frustrated, and also I lose my appetite because my heart starts to ache.
Everyone sits down and starts to fight over the food, as always. My dad chuckles. “Never…changes. Relax, kids. Mom always makes enough.”
The words come out slow, slurred, but we know what he’s saying mostly because it’s the same thing he’s been saying since we were preteens. And just like always, we ignore him and all dive in at once, scooping up chicken, potatoes, and salad off the serving dishes in the center of the table.
“Eli, grab something now or you’ll starve,” Zoey advises as she snags a juicy piece of chicken breast before Jude can.
Dixie grabs a chicken leg and drops it onto his plate. “I got you, baby.”
I laugh. “How are you feeling, E? Headaches? Nausea?”
“Nope. None of that,” Eli says and takes the scalloped potatoes dish from Winnie, before she was finished serving herself.
“Atta boy.” Zoey smiles.
“Good. It sounds like you’re recovering nicely.” I fight the urge to text Griffin and give him an update. I’m sure Eli will be meeting with his coach soon and can tell him himself.
“Yeah, but Sully is still going to make me take a week off, I’m sure,” Eli grumbles, his green eyes clouded with frustration. “The league is really anal about head injuries.”
“Fo goo reasss…on,” my father comments. He’s saying “for good reason,” and luckily Eli understands.
“I know. I just want to play,” Eli replies.
“Speaking of Sully, how’s that going?” Jude asks, and I’m elated we’re still talking about Griffin, even though I shouldn’t be. Winnie and Dixie meet my eyes across the table, but I look away and give all my attention to the potatoes I’m scooping onto my plate.
“Great. He’s a way better coach than the last one.” Even I can hear the relief in Eli’s voice. He butted heads with his last coach since he started with the team. “Sully is so close to the game because he was in the league just a couple years ago. He’s easygoing but focused, and he’s got these new exercises and stretches that are really improving my reach in net. He’s also super chill, which is what I need. Like last night at the hospital, he stayed calm and just made sure I was okay, whereas the last coach would have been super annoying and made the situation worse.”
I shovel potatoes into my mouth to keep from asking questions, because they wouldn’t be hockey-related and it would seem weird. Winnie, on the other hand, isn’t worried about looking weird. She takes a sip of water and asks, “So where is he from? What teams did he play for? Did you ever play him, Jude? Where does he live?”
The table falls silent. People don’t even continue eating. My mom’s hand is frozen, a chunk of chicken on a fork hovering in front of my dad’s mouth. But he’s not paying attention to it either. Everyone is just stunned by Winnie’s sudden onslaught of invasive questions. Jude gives her a confused look. Ah, shit…If he asks her why she’s so nosy and Winnie says a word, I’ll die.
“He played for a couple teams, mostly as a backup goalie,” Jude answers. “Los Angeles and Vegas. I played him when he was with Vegas during my rookie year. Didn’t score on him, though.”
Winnie nods, eating up all this info and making Jude look more confused and Eli look like he’s been concussed again. Mom and Dad have at least continued eating, but they too are clearly perplexed. Dixie is trying not to snicker, so I kick her lightly under the table.
“He was drafted by the Thunder, but only played for the Storm,” Eli adds and spears a potato with his fork.
“Where does he live?” Winnie asks.
“I think he lives in Marin,” Eli replies. “He mentioned something about picking up his kid there.”
I freeze. My mom notices. I blink and swallow down the chicken in my mouth, almost choking because I didn’t chew it enough. I grab my water glass. Dixie snickers. I kick her again—harder this time. Winnie coughs.
“How many kids does he have?” Winnie asks.
Jude and Eli exchange baffled looks, and then Eli answers slowly, cautiously, like he’s just realized he’s dealing with a lunatic. “Umm…one…I think. At least he’s only mentioned a little girl…Why all the questions about my coach?”
Winnie shrugs. “You’re a part of our family now, Eli. Being invasive and getting all up in family business is what I do.”
“We all have roles to play,” Dixie adds with a grin. “It’s how we keep this family running like a well-oiled machine.”
“Yeah, your role is designated freeloader,” Jude tells her. “You had breakfast at my place and dinner here. Have you ever even cooked in your own apartment?”
“I don’t cook,” Dixie responds, “because then I would have to clean.”
“Is he married?” I ask, my voice almost hoarse from trying to hide the tension in it. My brother and Eli turn their confused stares on me now. “Winnie and I work in tandem on this invasive thing.”
“I assume that a wife or girlfriend or some female of significance usually comes with a child,” Jude says with snark, and I stick my tongue out at him because giving him the finger at the dinner table would be rude. Meanwhile, my brain is reeling. Is he married? Like legally? Is he a cheater? Was he going to cheat with me?
When I look across the table, Dixie and Winnie are asking me the same questions with their eyes. We’ve always been able to read each other’s thoughts without a word. It drives Jude nuts, and even my dad thought it could get creepy. They both look as worried and borderline horrified as I am because it’s a real possibility. Griffin Sullivan might be married, and in that case—I just dodged a bullet.