Chapter 5
LAINEY
Iscrub the pot that I used for mashed potatoes aggressively.
I’m completely pissed off. With the weather, for one.
My parents didn’t make it out, just like half of the country who were stranded with grounded flights.
The colleague who was going to join us called to say she is sick.
And the real reason that I’m probably frustrated with a sponge is because of my neighbor.
It’s not that I had expectations, but Enzo was still hopeful that Tyler would stop by.
It has not been my finest of days. Between nearly burning a turkey and crying my eyes out in my bathroom because I want Enzo to have a great Thanksgiving, I’ve given up.
Enzo and I ended up eating dinner in our pajamas on the sofa while watching a movie.
I love autumn. The crunchy leaves, the colors, the family meals, and first snows. It’s a season of change, and Thanksgiving warns us that it will officially be winter soon. I want everything to be perfect for Enzo, so I’m a little bummed about today to say the least.
My cell begins to vibrate on the counter near the sink, and I see my brother’s name. Throwing the sponge into the sink, I quickly look for a towel but give up, and I lean down to touch my screen with my elbow. To my surprise it works.
Putting him on speaker, I continue to scrub. “Hey there,” I say.
“Will you put me on video? It’s a holiday.”
I chuckle under my breath. “Not happening. I look like a hot mess.” I find the towel and pick it up.
“Yeah, I hear Mom and Dad got stuck.” There is sympathy in his voice. “I wish I was there, Sis. Also to see Enzo.”
“I can get him.”
“I’ll call again later. I’m about to head into the team captain’s house for dinner, and I just quickly wanted to check in.”
He’s sweet that way. “Thanks, big brother.”
“Try to relax. There is no need to have high expectations for today. You can take it easy.”
Sighing, I wish I could accept that feeling, but I can’t. “Easier said than done, but I hear ya. I’ll try my best.”
“Good. Now I gotta run. I hope to make it work for Christmas so I can see you. Maybe I can fly you and Enzo out?”
“I’m sure he would love it, but we’ll need to see.”
“Okay, and your neighbor hasn’t been a pain, has he? I’m scared to ask.”
That’s what has me triggered. “He’s fine. No issues,” I lie.
We say our goodbyes, and I hang up then instantly throw the nearby towel across the kitchen. I growl because I’m angry. It’s my neighbor that is the issue.
How stupid of me to think that a hockey player would give a damn and put in some effort for a little boy who practically begged him to stop by. But no, Tyler is probably wallowing in his apartment with a beer and pizza.
This whole day just confirms that hockey guys are unreliable and selfish, and why am I hearing the doorbell?
Wait, what?
I can hear Enzo’s thumping run from the living room to the front hall.
I quickly dash out of the kitchen. “Enzo, let me answer. You don’t know who it—”
My son ignores me, and the door swooshes open. “Tyler!”
A few steps and I can see that my neighbor is standing in the hall. Now I’m furious because he has day-old stubble and that does things to a woman.
Crossing my arms, I watch as Tyler steps in because Enzo clears the way and smiles.
“I thought you wouldn’t come. You’ve missed dinner, but we have loads of extras. My grandpa and grandma couldn’t come because of the planes. My mom’s mashed potatoes are not that great today, the turkey is okay-ish, but everything else is yummy.”
I feign being offended with my mouth open. “Someone is a little honest today.”
Enzo ignores me and pulls Tyler’s wrist. Tyler glances over his shoulder back at me. “Just keeping you in check.”
I roll my eyes to the side and close the door while Enzo tows our neighbor straight to the kitchen. I can hear my son talking without a break between sentences. He’s excited.
I want to be relieved, but I also hate that I’m relying on someone to make Enzo’s day. I shouldn’t be able to stand the guy.
Following them, I admire how my son is already pointing to all of the food on the counter, cooling off in containers before heading to the fridge. “You’re just in time. We haven’t had pie yet.”
Tyler seems overwhelmed but has a grin all the same.
“Why don’t you take a breather,” I suggest to Enzo. “I’ll chat with our guest while you go check there are no tiny toy bricks on the ground for any of us to trip on.”
My son grimaces at me before he marches off.
Silence fills the kitchen, and a whoosh of air travels through my body when it feels like Tyler turns to me in slow motion.
“It’s, uh… I kind of assumed you weren’t coming,” I murmur.
He lifts a shoulder, then it sinks. “I said maybe.”
I exhale loudly, annoyed. “Maybe isn’t good for Enzo, or any kid.
” Leaning against the edge of the counter, I cross my arms, only to be reminded that I have ankle slippers, plaid pajama bottoms, and a form-fitting long-sleeve shirt that even I consider borderline too tight.
My messy bun is questionable whether it’s cute messy or not.
Grumbling to myself, I can just add this to my day of mishaps.
“It’s not good for him to have any hope. ”
Tyler’s eyes widen, and he leans against the island across from me. “Hope? I’m not sure Santa would be so happy that you are doubting it.” Is he joking? Or is he trying to ease me into a conversation that isn’t funny at all.
“I’m just saying. Be careful. He’s my son and…”
“Listen, we got in late yesterday because of the travel havoc, and I needed sleep to function properly. Not my fault that half of this country thinks dinner at 2pm on this day is a good idea.” He actually sounds kind of remorseful, and that takes me by surprise.
However, my mood has already been dampened, and my mind lets it go after a millisecond. “I’m just saying that Enzo is my number one, so maybes, no matter who it’s from, causes momma bear to come out, and I should have known better because other than my brother, hockey players are all the same.”
He seems taken aback by my tenacity and offended. His head tilts to the side, his face stoic. “You really want to be one of those people who believe in stereotypes? Because we’re not all the same.”
I stand taller, and I do my best to tamp down a rage building that shouldn’t be seeing the light of day today. “You’re all selfish and forget about others.”
He steps forward, with his hands up to calm me. “Whoa there. You are a judgmental piece of work today,” he chides. “I’m not sure why the hell I came now. After all, I’m an asshole who thinks only of himself.”
He begins to turn, but I’m quick to grab his arm which causes him to pause, and his eyes drop down to my hand near his elbow before darting up to mine. It’s as though he is searching for something.
“Wait… I’m sorry. I’m just a little on edge.”
“No shit. You normally call me Scrooge, but you get that medal today.”
My lips roll in while I try to take control of my thoughts. “Maybe.”
“You hate that word, remember?” he deadpans.
Now my eyes grow slightly at his brazen response, and he only smirks cockily. “Just…” I squeeze my eyes shut for a second before opening them, with a calming breath that he probably heard. “Stay. Enzo is right. We have pie… a lot of it. Well, a lot of food, too, if you’re hungry.”
“Will you put on an apron and make me a plate?” Is he teasing me or is there a hint of… flirting?
I smile tightly at him. “Not a chance.”
His gaze falls down. “Going to let me go now? Or will your hand be holding onto me with this tight grip for the foreseeable future.”
My hand leaves his hard muscled arm as though he is fire and burned me. “Yeah, oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to… you know… touch you.” I’m rambling. Fuck. It just didn’t cross my mind that I was even touching him; it’s a natural touch, according to my body.
Tyler is clearly amused.
Making myself busy, I grab a plate and search the things on the counter. “I guess a bit of everything, right? I mean, it’s a cheat day today, and I can imagine you need your protein and maybe some antioxidants, you know sweet potatoes have that.”
“It’s covered in marshmallows,” he flatly points out.
“Sorry for being hospitable,” I rebuke.
He slides onto a stool on the other side of the counter. “It looks good. I mean, the turkey looks a little dry, but you have cranberry sauce, so we’re all good.”
I’m exasperated, and it’s audible. “Excuse me for not being up to your standards. See? Even on a holiday you’re being a pain in the ass.”
His chuckle vibrates through me. “Relax. It was a joke. You’re a little uptight today.”
“That’s an understatement,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was that?” I’m not sure if he heard me or not.
I shake my head gently while I load his plate with a spoonful of stuffing. “Nothing. It was nothing.”
“Okay, as long as it’s not another accusation of my hockey persona misconceptions.” He pops a cornbread muffin into his mouth.
I grip the handle of the spoon a little harder. “Don’t. Just don’t bring it up.”
“Fine. Can I at least ask why you have such a strong disdain? I’m sure you have a dartboard with my face in the middle hidden in your room next to your toys.”
My jaw drops, and I slide my gaze to him at his audacity. “What shitty manners you have.”
“Ooh, shitty, I can imagine that word is on the swear-jar list.” He grins smugly.
I point the spoon at him. “You really came here with no manners. I can’t believe you just said that.” Or that my face is burning right now.
“Gotta keep your low standards up,” he rebuffs.
I growl under my breath then ceremonially drop a giant dollop of marshmallow-covered sweet potato on his plate, but it only causes him to smirk.
“You just have no idea, okay.” I’m adamant that this topic needs to end.
Maybe he notices because suddenly he softens and swallows any retort he might have had for me. It’s silent when I set the plate in front of him.
“Looks good. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”