Chapter 24
Roman sees Erin and lets out a shriek loud enough to pop the balloons tied to the fence.
“ERINNNNNN!”
He barrels across the yard. Erin laughs and drops to her knees, arms already open like she knew he was coming.
I barely have time to set his birthday cake on the table before he launches himself at her.
He’s a kid jacked up on sugar as Erin lifts him from the ground and hugs him tighter.
When she sets him down, he pulls her over to his friends.
“Hey, man,” Brax says, handing me a beer. “Thanks for getting the cake.”
“No problem,” I say, clinking the bottle against his.
“Also, I think you’re gonna need to find a new goalie by the end of the day,” Brax says, looking in the direction of the grill where Austin is talking Brodie’s ear off. Most likely about how he’s cooking the meat because Brodie looks about ten seconds away from skewering him.
I chuckle. “When the fans ask where Stinger is, I’ll be sure to let you know. Your brother might need protection from Tornadoes fans.”
Brax’s eyes drift to where Erin’s crouched beside Roman, helping him hand out stickers.
“There are five pro hockey players in my backyard,” Brax says, shaking his head, “and my six-year-old has been counting down the minutes to introduce a girl to his classmates.”
“She’s amazing,” I say.
“She is. I’m happy for you—really.”
“She makes everything better,” I say quietly. “Even the heavy shit is lighter. When she’s around, I can breathe without the weight of my past choking me.”
“You love her,” Brax says simply.
“Completely.”
The truth carves a space deep into my soul, a quiet anchor—solid and unmovable.
I’m in love with Erin Callahan.
I want her.
I need her.
I crave her.
Every part of her.
“The way she looks at you, it’s not one-sided. I think she’s crazy about you, Pretty Boy.”
“I hope so, because I’m so gone for her,” I admit.
“What have you got planned for your date tonight?” Brax asks.
“With the away series coming up, I want her all to myself, so we’re staying in.
Erin doesn’t want to get dressed up and go to a fancy dinner at a restaurant you have to book three months in advance to get a table at.
She’s the kind of girl who wants to go to a kid’s birthday party, eat tacos, change into loungewear when she gets home, and feast on an endless supply of nachos and dips throughout the night.
She wants a fire burning in the background and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles on the screen—because it reminds me of my childhood.
And I just want her, and I can’t think of a better way to spend my night. ”
Brax claps me on the back before heading over to his son, who’s calling him over. Erin hugs Brax, and my eyes shine at how open she’s become around my people and just how much they love her.
Ten minutes later, Erin is consoling a pouty Rudy after his epic sack race disaster. He ripped straight through the bottom and tripped up mid-race, disqualifying himself. The kids are howling with laughter, and Erin presses her lips together to fight her own from bubbling out of her.
When Rudy sticks his tongue out, it finishes her off and she doubles over. Rudy glares at her and then takes off running. She bolts after her brother, launching at his back while trying to apologize through her fits of giggles.
Rudy grins, flips her over his shoulder, and makes a beeline straight for the bounce house. I stand there watching them, two people who had to grow up faster than they should have, laugh and jump for joy as if they didn’t get to do this when they were younger.
I can’t look away. Erin’s hair is flying around her delicate face as she jumps, and Rudy is laughing so hard he almost falls. For a moment, it’s like they’ve both forgotten every shitty thing life threw at them.
Oliver, Austin, and a moody Hayes pile into the bounce house seeking protection when an army of kids chase them with waterguns.
A couple minutes later it collapses under the weight of four fully grown men.
The kids boo them, but Erin grins from ear to ear as she crawls out and I don’t think she’s ever looked more beautiful.
As the party winds down, most of the kids head inside to watch cartoons. Roman tugs on Erin’s jacket as she cleans up the loose colored strings that came out of the pinata.
She bends to his level, and he whispers something in her ear before giving her a tight hug and kissing her cheek. He runs off, giving me a quick fist bump as he passes.
Erin is covered in glitter glue from the arts and crafts earlier today. She’s a mess, but still so beautiful. A rush of thoughts floods my mind—about peeling off her clothes and helping her get cleaned up—before I catch myself and approach her.
Down, boy.
“What did he say?” I ask her.
“I’m sworn to secrecy,” she says, holding her hands up in surrender, and I know I’m going to need to drop a ton of cash on candy to get Roman to tell me.
“They’re gonna cut the cake in about ten minutes,” I tell her. “And then we’ll get going.”
“O-okay,” she says, her voice trembling ever so slightly.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask her.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, eyes shifting to her feet.
“Part of me wants to stay here,” she admits.
“Because the second we leave, it’s real.
We officially cross into new territory together.
” She stops and bites her lip, as if deciding whether she should stop or carry on giving me her thoughts.
“I’m a little terrified, and I really don’t want that to mess things up. ”
“Is there something that you’re particularly nervous about? How can I help you feel better?” I ask, closing some of the space between us, a smirk playing on my lips.
“Maybe all of it.”
I brush my thumb along her cheek bone, so enticingly slow.
“How about we take it one second, one minute, one hour at a time? I’ll check in with you to make sure you’re okay and are comfortable with the way things are moving. And, if at any point you’re nervous about anything, just let me know and we can talk about it. Okay?”
“Yeah. I think I can work with that,” she says and heads inside to wash off some of the glitter glue.
My phone buzzes—once, twice, then nonstop. I snort so loudly, it hurts my brain. Rudy’s threats come in rapid-fire texts, each one more dramatic than the last.
WE’RE THE TORNADOES, BITCHES!
Rudy: Have her home by 11:30 p.m. On the dot.
Rudy: And not a minute later.
Rudy: Or I’ll chop off your balls and use them for hockey pucks.
Rudy: Meaning, no future little pretty boys running around to carry out your legacy.
Rudy: Also, have fun and treat her right
Austin: She doesn’t live with you.
Rudy: I know, but I’ve always wanted to say that.
Oliver: That was very specific.
Hayes: And odd.
Me: Your protectiveness over your sister is cute, but let’s not mislead people into thinking you can take me when we all know I would snap you like a twig.
Rudy: Touch one hair on my head and Goose will dump your ass faster than any of your record-breaking goals.
Oliver: Don’t they have to be dating for her to dump him? Pretty sure this is just a first date. Who says he’ll get a second, considering how slow he was at getting the first.
Austin: Yes, I would agree.
Hayes: He’ll get a second date. Don’t screw it up.
Me: Yes, sir.
Rudy: I want evidence Goose is home by 11:30 p.m.
Me: Sure, Rudy. I’ll send you a picture.
Rudy: Thank you.
Me: Of Erin in my bed.
Austin:
Rudy: Not. Cool.
Me: Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get home so I can run a bath for my date. Maybe I’ll join her—she might need help getting all that glitter glue out of her hair and from behind her ears.
Rudy: I. Hate. You.
Me: Yeah, but your sister loves me.
Hayes: Children.