Chapter 5
FIVE
ADDIE
Winnie: Doesn’t Finn have his own house?
Vivi: If he does, he hasn’t gone to it yet…
Winnie: Were the boys okay today?
Vivi: They were fine.
Hope: She’s being kind. Declan stuck a marble up Beck’s nose and Finn had to perform quite a bit of gross work to get it out.
Vivi: Sorry, I should have been watching them closer.
Winnie: LOL. Trust me, no one can stop them from acting the way they do. I appreciate you, Vi.
Hope: You coming home, Addie, or are you too busy plotting JJ’s murder?
I snort as I walk up the steps to the brownstone, inhaling deeply and bracing myself. I’m not ready for the chaos. Fortunately JJ had plans with the guys after practice, so I didn’t have to chauffeur him home.
Damn, do I need a break from him and all his questions. And especially all the staring.
How dare he know that my bad bitch attitude wasn’t helping my internal trembling at all?
Very few people have ever had the ability to shake me.
Not because I think I’m better than the guys I trained with but because I grew up surrounded by women who constantly told me I could be anything I wanted to be and that I should be loud and proud about it.
It was impossible to get a word in edge wise on this block unless it was spoken with my whole chest.
Even now that we’re all grown, it’s a miracle that I made it from my car to the steps without being stopped by a rogue aunt or uncle.
Aside from Aunt Sienna, they all live on this street. The only female Langfield of that generation was smart and put some distance between herself and the chaos, otherwise known as her brothers.
Chaos or not, I’ve always been fortunate that no matter what happens on the ice, this army will always have my back.
Early on, I learned to ignore the chirping. Hell, half the time I truly didn’t even hear it. My ability to tune people out is beyond impressive.
But Dirk didn’t chirp. He terrorized.
My body tenses as memories assault me, as the sound of his cruel laughter that morning plays in my head. I should be over it by now. It’s absurd that I remember exactly how the room smelled—like sticky sweat—or the way my stomach rolled when I realized I was alone with him.
Blinking rapidly, I try like hell to focus on the singing of the birds in the tree above. On the smell of burgers on the grill—probably what Finn is making for dinner. On the black door and the yellow wreath in front of me. On the name spelled out above it. The Langfields.
Something I can hear, something I can smell, something I can see. Check. Check. Check.
Luckily, my pulse slows without too much work.
Dirk doesn’t get to ruin anything else for me.
Inside, I find Hope in the kitchen talking to a raccoon.
We don’t normally allow the raccoons in the house, but Junie (short for Junior, Jr.) gave birth a few months ago, and the twins insist that the babies need to be inside to be safe.
Raccoons may not be a traditional type of pet, but again, my dad is a softy.
When Finn caught a raccoon stealing Mom’s shoes many, many moons ago, he was horrified by the idea of the animal being removed from the house.
And then we discovered that Junior—named, of course, by Finn—was pregnant, and suddenly we ended up with four pet raccoons.
The raccoons are apparently little sluts too, because they keep getting knocked up, despite the fact that we never breed them.
I mean, who the hell would breed a raccoon?
Hope looks like a grown-up Disney princess standing in our kitchen. She’s always wearing flouncy dresses, her red hair styled like in those southern magazines, with big waves that only make her face look prettier. She inherited her mother’s violet eyes, and she exudes kindness.
Along with her dress, she’s wearing a pair of cowboy boots. She’s always in boots. It makes me laugh, considering she’s from Boston, but the James family has always split their time between Nashville and New England, and as a kid, Hope rode horses.
“You’re so cute eating your grapes like that,” she says to the raccoon. Again, total Disney princess. “God, I could stare at you all day. Oh wait. Don’t jump up there.” She twirls around and gently herds the other young raccoon away from the tomatoes she has set out on the cutting board.
Chuckling, I step into the kitchen. “They’re experts at stealing food. You can’t let them in the house.” I open the back door and shoo them out.
On the patio, Finn is manning the grill. Beck is hanging on his leg while Declan chases a balloon on a string that is tied to Finn’s wrist.
My brother has more energy than anyone I’ve ever met. He also has absolutely no reason to be here. He has his own place and his own life.
Hope hums and sways her hips to the melody as she slices the tomato, gentleness and warmth radiating from her.
I’d imagine that’s the reason he’s here.
Maybe if my brother hadn’t been a little slut like our raccoons, he would have had a shot with Hope before she moved to Nashville.
Or maybe he became a slut after she left. I can’t remember. But for years, my brother has spent his free time entertaining people, and most often they’re of the female variety.
“Where are all the girls?” I ask, opening the silverware drawer.
I might as well make myself useful. In a house as busy as ours was, we all had chores.
We didn’t have nannies or a cleaning staff because Mom and Dad wanted to be involved in our everyday lives.
But there were a lot of us and our parents had demanding careers, so we all pitched in.
“JJ took the girls over to the park.”
The forks I’ve just scooped out of the drawer clatter back into their spot. “JJ’s home?”
Mid-slice, Hope peers at me over her shoulder. “Yeah, he got home around one and took us out for lunch.”
“Oh.” Swallowing, I go back to collecting utensils.
The rest of the team had plans to go to Ground Zero. When he told me he didn’t need a ride, I assumed he was joining them. I should have known better, though. Avery is always JJ’s first priority. As she should be.
Hope sets the knife on the white marble counter and turns to face me completely. “How was today?”
“Fine.”
“JJ mentioned that a goalie he really hated growing up was there.”
Grunting, I head for the cabinet and pull down plates. “I don’t know why he won’t drop it. Dirk will be gone by next week.”
“My cousin doesn’t know how to drop things when they involve people he cares about,” Hope says evenly.
With my back to her, I roll my eyes. “If you’re talking about me, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m his coach and nothing more.”
“Right, but you used to be super close. I remember when—”
The front door slams and a tiny voice screams, “It’s not a penis!”
Hope and I both startle, then rush into the foyer.
“It is a penis, and I want one.” Gracie, who has her mother’s red hair and eyes the color of whiskey, like so many other family members, stomps her little cowgirl boot against the hardwoods, face red and hands fisted at her hips like she’s ready to throw down.
Avery has appeared too, her arms crossed like she couldn’t be bothered by the tantrum her cousin is throwing.
JJ comes barreling through the door with the younger girls, looking all sorts of flustered.
Two-year-old Mari is gripping his finger, her expression easy, like she’s unaware of the fight that’s about to occur, but it’s the eight-month-old Emmy Lou who catches my eye.
Because the infant is strapped to JJ’s damn chest. Like he’s a super uncle or something.
God, why is that so hot? I don’t think I even want kids. Not after growing up surrounded by so many. But JJ Hanson wearing a baby is doing things to me. Things that he of all people should not have the ability to do.
He’s married. He’s married. He’s married.
With a dip of my chin, I avert my attention from his strong baby-wearing chest and focus on the two angry four-year-olds. “What is happening?”
“I want a penis,” Gracie shouts.
“I’ve got a penis,” another high-pitched voice yells from the kitchen. In a flash, Declan has joined the fray, jutting his hips wildly and waggling his pelvis in our direction. “I can even make it rain in here.”
Before the words have even registered—and before the little boy has a chance to drop his pants—Finn is there, snatching him by the arms and tossing him over his shoulder.
Avery glares at her father, her blue eyes blazing. “This is really where you want to live?”
I swear that most of the words that come out of her mouth align perfectly with my thoughts. I love that little girl something fierce.
JJ sighs.
“I want a penis that rains,” Gracie yells, her little eyes rimming red. “Momma, why can’t I have a raining penis?”
“What is she talking about?” Hope growls, her voice low and her glare fixed on JJ.
Ha. Five minutes ago, she was singing his praises.
“Peonies, Gracie. You want a peony.” JJ lifts Emmy Lou out of the baby-wearing contraption and sets the little chunk on the floor.
The little girl reaches for her toes and then falls backward with a laugh.
JJ kneels beside Avery, forcing a calm expression. “The only person you can control is yourself, Avey. Remember? Sometimes people get things wrong, and that’s okay.” His blue eyes flit in my direction, and he totally catches me staring.
My cheeks flame and the urge to disappear into the wall behind me flares to life.
With a deep breath in, JJ looks up at Hope. “She saw peonies on our way home. Pink ones. I told her we couldn’t steal them from someone else’s yard.”
I snort. “Oh, Lennox’s peonies. I get it now.”
Uncle Aiden put in the most gorgeous flower bushes for my aunt. “How ’bout I take you over after dinner, Gracie? Auntie Lennox would love to cut a few of her pretty peonies for you.”
Gracie’s eyes go round. “Really?”
“Pretty sure you’ve just made a friend for life,” Hope mutters, hand to her chest. “My god, living here isn’t going to be for the faint of heart, is it?”
Finn, who has returned sans little boy terrors, wraps an arm around her, steering her toward the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I’ll be here every step of the way.”
“Even though he doesn’t live here,” JJ grumbles.
“I wish we didn’t live here,” Avery mumbles, kicking at the floor.
“Maybe Addie would let you have a pink penis too if you were nicer,” Gracie says with a saucy shake of her shoulders.
“It’s not a penis,” Avery yells.
“Okay, I’m getting her out of here.” JJ tosses Avery over his shoulders and heads for the stairs. “Let’s go wash our hands and change our attitude.”
“She doesn’t change her attitude,” Gracie says to me with a laugh. “She changes her clothes. Uncky JJ is so funny.”
I blink down at the three children I’ve somehow found myself alone with and mutter, “Yeah, Uncle JJ is a hoot.”
The front door flies open, and Winnie steps in with a flourish. “Sorry I’m so late. What did I miss?”