Chapter 57
FIFTY-SEVEN
“Dude, how many pairs of shoes do you own?” Drew complained as he carried a box labeled Footwear up the stairs to Abby’s apartment. “You’re worse than my sister.”
I laughed, following behind him with my hockey gear. “Says the guy who has an entire shelf dedicated to hair products.”
“It takes work to look this good,” he shot back, pausing at the landing to readjust his grip on the box. “Some of us weren’t blessed with naturally perfect hair.”
Moving had turned into a full-scale operation with all the guys pitching in. Mason’s stuff filled Abby’s living room while we moved the last of Sam’s stuff out. Liam and Gordy were handling Sam’s move into the hockey house while Drew helped me with my boxes.
When we reached Abby’s apartment, the door was propped open. I could hear Sam and Abby inside, laughing about something as they sorted through kitchen items.
“Where do you want this?” Drew asked as we entered.
Abby looked up from where she was wrapping mugs in newspaper. “Bedroom, please. I cleared out half the closet for you.”
“Only half?” Drew teased. “Have you seen how many shoes this guy has?”
“I do not have that many shoes,” I protested, setting my hockey gear down by the door.
Drew snorted. “Says the guy with three different pairs of running shoes.”
“They’re for different surfaces!” I defended myself, though I couldn’t help but smile. The lighthearted bickering felt good after weeks of stress and grief.
Abby wiped her hands on her jeans and came over to press a quick kiss to my lips. “How’s it going at the house?” she asked.
“Gordy’s already planning dinner for tonight. He says we all need a proper meal after moving all day.”
“That sounds amazing,” she said, her eyes lighting up. Gordy was easily the best cook among us, and his meals were legendary. “What time should we head over?”
“He said seven, but knowing him, food won’t be ready until eight.” I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close for a moment. “How are you holding up?”
She leaned into me, her body relaxing against mine. “Good, actually. Really good. This feels like a step in the right direction.”
I nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. After my confrontation with my father, I’d felt the same way—like I was finally taking steps toward the life I wanted instead of the one that had been preordained for me.
Abby wasn’t a victim of her circumstances. She was making the best life she could for herself and her brother, and I felt lucky to be a part of their family.
Drew cleared his throat dramatically. “Not to interrupt this adorable moment, but we still have boxes in the truck that won’t unload themselves.”
I reluctantly let go of Abby. “Alright, I’m coming.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of boxes, furniture rearrangement, and good-natured teasing.
By six thirty, we had most of my essential stuff moved in, and Sam’s room at the hockey house was set up.
Mason’s new room—formerly Sam’s—was ready for him, complete with the hockey posters Liam had insisted on hanging to try to convince him that hockey was the superior sport.
When we arrived at the hockey house for dinner, the smell of Gordy’s cooking hit us the moment we walked through the door. Something with garlic and herbs that made my stomach growl in anticipation.
“We’re here!” I called out, ushering Abby and Mason inside.
Gordy poked his head out from the kitchen, a dishcloth thrown over his shoulder. “Perfect timing. Drew, set the table!”
Drew groaned from his spot on the couch where he had just sat down to play a video game. “Why is it always me?”
“Because you’re the only one who never cooks,” Liam said, coming down the stairs with Sam following behind him.
“I thought we agreed that me cooking meant risking burning the house down and it should be avoided at all costs,” Drew said, pausing the game and getting up anyway.
Mason hovered uncertainly in the entryway, and I noticed how he seemed to shrink into himself a bit, his shoulders hunching forward as if trying to take up less space. I’d seen the same posture from him at the hospital and the funeral—like he was trying to make himself invisible.
“Hey, Mase,” I said casually, “want to help me grab some sodas from the garage?”
He shrugged, which I’d come to recognize as teenage for yes, and followed me through the kitchen where Gordy was stirring something that smelled incredible.
“What is that?” I asked, pausing to peek into the pot.
Gordy swatted my hand away. “Chicken cacciatore. And if you touch anything, I will end you.”
Mason’s eyes widened slightly at Gordy’s threat, but I just laughed. “He’s all bark, no bite,” I assured Mason as we continued to the garage. “Except on the ice. Then he’s terrifying.”
In the garage, I opened the extra refrigerator where we kept drinks and snacks. “What do you want? We’ve got soda, beer—which you can’t have—and water.”
Mason peered into the fridge. “Coke?”
“Good choice.” I grabbed cans of Coke for all of us. “Here, take these.”
As I handed him a few of the sodas, I decided to take a chance on some conversation. “So, how are you feeling about the move?”
He shrugged again, but then surprised me by adding, “It’s cool. Better than staying at Gram’s house.”
I was relieved he felt that way. Everything had changed so quickly, and I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable with the new arrangements. We made our way back to the kitchen just as Gordy was announcing that dinner was ready.
The dining table in the hockey house was barely big enough for all of us, but we crowded around it anyway, passing dishes and fighting over the bread.
Gordy had outdone himself with chicken cacciatore, roasted vegetables, and garlic bread that was perfectly crispy on the outside and soft in the middle.
“Dude,” Drew said through a mouthful of food, “you need to open a restaurant or something.”
Gordy rolled his eyes, but I could tell he was pleased. “It’s just chicken and tomatoes.”
“It’s amazing,” Abby said sincerely. “Thank you for cooking for all of us.”
Sam raised her beer. “To our new living arrangements. May we all survive without killing each other.”
“Hear, hear!” Liam cheered, clinking his bottle against hers.
“So Mason,” Drew said, turning to Abby’s brother, “You’ve been holding out on us. We saw all your football stuff and Abby said you’ve been playing for years. What position?”
He looked up, a sheepish expression on his face. “I’m a wide receiver.”
“That’s awesome,” Drew said, leaning forward with interest. “What’s your team like?”
Something in Mason seemed to light up at the question. “We’re pretty good. Made it to state semifinals last year. We got close again this year, but lost one game too many to make it to the playoffs.”
“No shit?” Liam said, impressed. “That’s legit.”
“Language,” Abby murmured automatically, but she was smiling as she watched her brother engage with the guys.
“You must be fast,” I commented.
Mason nodded, his posture straightening a bit. “Yeah, I’m not the biggest guy on the team, but I can outrun most of the defensive backs.”
“Speed beats size any day,” Drew said with authority. “That’s why Kane here is so good on the ice. He’s not the biggest forward, but he’s fast as fuck.”
“Language,” Abby said again, but she was laughing now.
“Sorry, Mom,” Drew teased, winking at her.
The conversation flowed easily after that, with Mason gradually becoming more animated as the guys asked him questions about football and whether he thought the LA Wolves—his favorite team—had any chance this year.
At one point, I glanced over at Abby and found her watching her brother with a tender expression. When she caught me looking, she mouthed “thank you,” her eyes bright with emotion. I reached under the table to squeeze her hand, feeling a surge of protectiveness and love for both her and Mason.
By the time Gordy brought out dessert—homemade apple crisp with vanilla ice cream—Mason was in the middle of describing a game-winning touchdown he’d caught last season, using salt and pepper shakers to demonstrate the play.
“…and then I got the game ball from coach for getting the touchdown,” he finished, grinning widely. “It was pretty awesome.”
“I bet,” Liam said, looking genuinely impressed. “You got the play on video?”
Mason nodded eagerly. “Yeah, I can show you guys sometime.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Drew said, high-fiving him. “We need to come to one of your games next season.”
“Language,” Abby said for the third time, but she was beaming now, watching her brother come alive under the positive attention.
The hockey guys had become my family over the past few years, and now that family was expanding to include Abby and Mason.
Here we were, crowded around a table that was too small, eating food that was insanely good, laughing and talking like we’d all known each other forever.
Mason was actually smiling—a real smile that reached his eyes—and Abby looked more relaxed than I’d seen her in weeks.
“What are you thinking about?” Abby asked quietly, leaning into my side as the others argued about which Marvel movie was the best.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Just that this feels like how family should be.”
She nodded, her eyes moving from her brother—who was now animatedly defending Thor: Ragnarok against Drew’s insistence that Winter Soldier was superior—to the rest of our mismatched family.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “It really does.”