21. Declan
DECLAN
The stool across from me at the table I’ve chosen in the corner of Perks and Rec scrapes loudly across the floor, and I look up.
My brother-in-law gives me an apologetic grin as he scrubs the back of his neck and takes a seat.
“Alex?” I ask. “What are you doing here?”
“Nora sent me.”
I swipe a finger across my phone screen to close it. I don’t know who knows what about Astrid and her medical history, but I’m hoping that Alex knows very little about his sister's pelvic floor.
Still, if he knows that she’s had chronic pain and that our sex life has been nonexistent, I won’t be surprised.
“Do you know that Nora is with Astrid right now?” I ask.
He nods. “Did you have a fight?” he asks.
Then he holds up a hand. “I really don’t want to be in the middle of that.
But let’s just get this out upfront—you better treat my sister right.
I will fucking hurt you if you don’t. And I know all the guys on the hockey team think you’re really cool and are very intimidated by you, but they like me.
And if I ask them to do something, they will dress all in black, show up with shovels, and not ask any questions.
” He pauses, then says, “Okay, Beckett would ask a shit ton of questions. Zeke probably too. But they’d still dig while they talked. ”
I open my mouth to respond, but he holds up a hand again.
“Hang on, I’m almost done. Let me also add that they like Astrid even more than they like me. And while they would definitely help me hide a body, they would literally rock-paper-scissors to see who got to dig the hole for her.”
I can’t help but smile at that. What man wouldn’t like knowing there’s an entire hockey team of men ready to dig unmarked graves for his wife?
“I haven’t hurt her. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why is she at home with her girlfriends and milkshakes?” Alex asks. “All of us know what milkshakes mean.”
“Some personal stuff. I don’t know how much she wants her brother to know,” I tell him honestly. “But it has to do with her injury. I’m trying to learn more before I go home to her. As you know, this is the first time we’ve been together in a while.”
I let that just hang in the air between us, wondering if Alex will be able to connect the dots, and what to do if he does not.
He does. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath through his nose, and blows it out. “Nora thinks she should go home,” he finally tells me. “And, based on that, I agree.”
I look at him with mild surprise. “You know your sister has pretty specific ideas about things. She needs to be the one making the decisions here.”
Alex opens his eyes. “Okay. And how is she supposed to tell you what she’s decided if you’re not there to listen?”
I start to respond, but... he has a point. “She can call me. Or text.” Both of those sound pathetic.
“Yeah. I suppose she could. But just like when she left Portland to come to Louisiana, you could’ve called or texted.
Or just fucking showed up on her front porch and asked to be let in.
Which you finally did. And that made a pretty big impact.
Imagine what would’ve happened if you had done it months ago? ”
I take a deep breath. “How long do you think I’m going to have to keep showing up on your sister's front porch to get this right?” I ask, already preparing to stand.
Alex smiles. “As long as it takes for that front porch to become yours too.” He shrugs. “That way, you can just walk through the door without an invitation.”
I stare at him.
I want that front porch to be mine.
It’s the strangest realization I have maybe ever had. Most other life-changing revelations have seemed obvious to me, I suppose.
Leaving Cara was obvious.
Marrying Astrid was obvious.
Getting on the plane to come to Rebel was obvious.
But this one snuck up on me.
Not because I am surprised that I want to share a house with Astrid. But that the house would be in a small town in Louisiana, with a front porch that has more foot traffic than the box office at the Portland Grays Arena.
And that I haven’t asked to be let in.
She lets people come and go through that door. People she trusts. People she knows care for her. People she loves.
I’ve just been demanding entrance.
“I need to get home,” I tell him, my stool now making the loud scraping noise on the floor.
He nods. “That’s what I’ve been telling you.”
I toss money on the table. I know I’m supposed to put it up by the register, but I also know I can trust that someone will put it up there for me. “How about we get together for a beer sometime?” I ask him.
“How about on your front porch?”
I laugh. “Deal.”