Chapter 26 #2
The kitchen went quiet in a way that was different from ordinary quiet. Martha had her mug halfway to her mouth and stopped there, and Martin had gone still with the spatula in his hand, and neither of them said anything for a moment that stretched just long enough to feel weighted.
“Oh,” she said. Quietly. Not surprised exactly. More like a woman setting down something she'd been holding for a while.
Martin looked at me. Then back at Rook. He put the spatula down on the counter and said, “You know, your mother and I used to argue about you two.”
Rook went still. “What?”
“When you were teenagers. You and Soren.” Martin leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed, not unkindly. “I thought it was obvious. Your mother thought I was projecting.”
“I didn't think you were projecting,” Martha said. “I thought you were getting ahead of things.”
“And then he started bringing home women who were perfectly fine but never quite right.” Martin said it plainly, without judgment, looking at his son. “And eventually you stop saying anything because a person gets to figure themselves out on their own timeline and it's not a parent's job to push.”
The kitchen was very quiet.
Rook looked like a man who had just found out a room he'd been locked out of for thirty years had actually been open the whole time.
“You knew,” he said.
“We wondered,” Martha corrected gently. “There's a difference.” She looked at me then, with the same soft careful attention she'd been giving Rook since they'd walked in the door. “And then you disappeared. And he didn't talk about it, so we didn't either. Some things you wait on.”
Talia was looking at Rook the way she looked at everything she was still deciding about. Then something in her expression settled, and she looked at him directly and said, “Don't hurt him again.”
“Talia—” I started.
“I'm talking to Rook.” She didn't look away from him. “He's been through enough.”
Rook held her gaze without flinching. “I know that,” he said. “I won't.”
She studied him for another beat. Then she nodded, once, and picked up her coffee, and that was that.
Micah crossed the kitchen and hugged me again. Poppy tucked herself back under my arm like she'd never left.
“We're going to the game tonight,” she announced, to the room at large, already back to herself. “All of us. I want to see you score, Rook.”
“I'll see what I can do,” Rook said.
“Don't see what you can do. Just do it.”
“She's been like this all week,” Micah told me. “Very directive.”
“She learned it from me,” I said.
“That explains so much,” Talia said drily, and the kitchen filled back up with noise and Maple threading between everyone's legs and Martin reclaiming the spatula with the authority of a man who considered himself the last word in cookie production.
I sat there with Poppy warm against my side and Rook's hand resting on the counter next to mine, close enough that our knuckles touched, and let myself stay inside the moment instead of bracing for what came after it.
The arena was packed by the time we arrived, the parking lot a sea of cars and people wearing Wolves jerseys. Martin navigated through the chaos with the confidence of a man who'd done this a thousand times, and we ended up in a VIP parking spot that made Poppy gasp.
“We get VIP parking?” she hissed. “Soren, we get VIP parking.”
“I know, Pops.”
“This is the best day of my life.”
We walked through a side entrance that bypassed the main crowds, and suddenly we were in a hallway that looked nothing like what I'd expected. Clean, carpeted, with framed photos of players lining the walls and the kind of quiet that suggested we were in a space reserved for people who mattered.
A woman in Wolves staff gear greeted us with a tablet and a professional smile. “Kincaid party?”
“That's us,” Martin said cheerfully.
“Perfect. Follow me. Captain Kincaid asked me to bring you to the VIP lounge first.”
We followed her through another hallway and into a room that made Poppy stop walking. Leather couches, a full bar, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ice, and a spread of food that looked like it had been catered by people who gave a shit.
And standing near the windows, already dressed in his game-day suit, was Rook.
He turned when we walked in, and his whole face did that thing where it went from captain-mode professional to soft in about half a second. He crossed the room and pulled me into a hug that lasted just long enough to make my siblings start making noises.
“Hey,” he said against my hair.
“Hey yourself.” I pulled back enough to look at him. “You look good. Very captain-y.”
“It's the suit.”
“It's definitely the suit.”
He grinned and turned to my siblings, greeting each of them with genuine warmth. Then he looked at all of us and said, “You want to meet the team before the game?”
Poppy's eyes went so wide I thought they might fall out of her head. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Come on.”
He led us through another hallway and into what I assumed was the players' area. The energy shifted immediately — louder, more chaotic, the smell of tape and coffee and the particular brand of nervous energy that came with playoff hockey.
The locker room door was open, and I could see players moving around inside, some already in gear and some still in various states of undress. Rook stuck his head in and said, “Got some people I want you to meet.”
The noise dropped immediately, and about fifteen pairs of eyes turned toward the door.
“This is Soren,” Rook said, and his hand found mine without him looking down. “And his siblings — Talia, Micah, and Poppy.”
“The siblings!” someone yelled, and suddenly the entire team was moving toward us.
Jace appeared first, already grinning like he'd won something. “Finally. We've been waiting to meet you guys.”
“You're the ones staying with the Kincaids, right?” Cole asked, and when Talia nodded he whistled. “Lucky. Martha makes the best cookies on the planet.”
“She really does,” Poppy said solemnly.
The introductions happened in a blur of names and handshakes and players who were way too enthusiastic about meeting a drummer and his family.
Dmitri was quiet but warm, Finn immediately started asking Poppy about school, and Tate launched into a story about the time he'd tried to learn drums and nearly destroyed his apartment.
Then Rook cleared his throat, and the room settled.
“Also,” he said, and I heard the shift in his voice that meant he was about to say something that mattered. “Soren's my boyfriend.”
The silence lasted exactly two seconds.
“Finally!” Finn threw his hands in the air. “Cole, you owe me twenty bucks!”
“I said before the end of the series—”
“He's standing here holding his hand, Cole—”
I glanced sideways at my siblings. Poppy had her hand pressed over her mouth, shoulders shaking. Micah was grinning at the floor. Talia had the expression of someone watching a nature documentary and finding it deeply satisfying.
None of them surprised. All of them delighted.
Rook was grinning so hard I thought his face might split, and before I could say anything else he pulled me close and kissed me. Right there in front of his entire team and my siblings and probably half the arena staff.
It wasn't a huge dramatic kiss. Just sure and real and completely impossible to misread. When he pulled back, I was pretty sure my face was on fire.
“What was that for?” I managed.
“Felt like it,” he said, and kissed me again.
The team erupted into cheers and chirping, and my siblings were making so much noise I could barely think, but all I could focus on was the fact that Rook had just kissed me in front of everyone who mattered. No hiding, no ambiguity, no careful distance.
Just chosen. Publicly and completely.
“Alright, get out of here,” Coach's voice cut through the chaos. He was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and an expression that might have been annoyed if you didn't know him well enough to see the smile he was hiding. “Game starts in thirty minutes and I need my captain focused.”
“Yes, Coach,” Rook said, but he was still looking at me.
We got herded back out into the hallway, and the staff member led us up to the VIP section while my siblings continued to roast me about the boyfriend reveal.
By the time we settled into our seats — actual cushioned seats with cup holders and a perfect view of the ice — I was pretty sure my face was going to be permanently red.
Martin had already claimed the seat next to me and was explaining the rules of hockey to Micah with the enthusiasm of a man who'd been waiting his entire life for this exact conversation.
Martha was on his other side, looking serene and unbothered by the chaos.
My siblings were arranged around me, all of them leaning forward with the kind of anticipation that made me remember why I'd loved this game so much when I was their age.
The arena filled up around us, the noise building until it was almost physical. The lights went down and the intro video started playing, and when the Wolves skated out onto the ice the entire building erupted.
I found Rook immediately. Number eleven, captain's C on his chest, moving with the kind of controlled grace that made it look easy even though I knew it wasn't. He did a lap with the team and then took his position at center ice for the opening faceoff, and when he looked up toward the VIP section I swear he was looking right at me.
The ref dropped the puck and Rook won the draw clean, snapping it back to Dmitri on the blue line. The game was on.
I'd forgotten what it felt like to watch hockey when you actually understood it.
Not just the surface level stuff that casual fans saw, but the real architecture of the game — the positioning, the reads, the way a good team moved like a single organism with twenty different parts all working toward the same goal.