5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Steven
Parked behind Moretti’s, I stare at Scarlett’s contact. Normally I’d be calling her, telling her to meet us for dinner. But after last night, nothing’s normal. And I’m not sure what to do about it.
A quick rap on the window snaps me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see Wyatt standing there.
“Miles went inside to get us a table,” he says as I fall into step with him, walking toward the restaurant’s entrance. “Is Scarlett meeting us?”
Pulling the door and stepping over the threshold, murmurs from diners mixed with the clatter of silverware greet us. “Not tonight.” Glancing around, my eyes land on Miles in the back corner, waving us toward him.
“Hmmm,” he hums. “You did see her when you got home though, right?”
“Yeah. I saw her yesterday.” The menu crinkles in my hand, my eyes gazing over the familiar items. “What are you getting?”
When silence greets me, I look up to see both Wyatt and Miles watching me, brows quirked. “What?”
“Nothing,” They say together, eyeing their menus.
“So how was your first day of practice with Declan Graham?” Miles asks, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Not good.” Laying my menu down, I rest my arms on the table and lean forward. “He’s still the same old Dec, but with a much larger ego.”
“Yeah, but it’s a well-deserved ego.” Wyatt taps me on the shoulder with his menu. “He’s one of the best left wingers in the league. The Wolverines are—”
“Sorry for the delay.” Our server puts a glass of water in front of each of us, laying straws next to them. “Are you ready to order?”
My stomach growls, but food is the last thing on my mind. The options blur as my mind wanders.
“Steven?” Miles waves his hand in front of my face. “What do you want to eat?”
“I’ll have what they’re having.” Our server writes down my order, then takes the menu before walking off. “Do either of you know a guy named Ryan?”
“Yeah, I know a Ryan from the Mavs, a Ryan from the Mavs front office, and a Ryan from the coffee shop across from the stadium,” Miles quips.
“And I know a Ryan at the gym,” Wyatt adds. “Do you want to be more specific about which ‘Ryan’ you’re asking about?
“Scarlett didn’t say what his last name was.” I peel back the paper from my straw and stick it in my cup before taking a sip. “But apparently he’s been hanging around the bakery a ton.”
“Well, you know how Scarlett attracts guys like bees to honey,” Wyatt teases. “She’s like a sexy librarian, but a baker.”
Miles snorts and shakes his head.
I jab the straw in my water.
“Whoa, little brother.” Miles puts a hand on mine to stop the beat down. “No need to crush the ice. She’s never more than friendly with anyone.”
Huffing out a sigh, I scrub my hand up and down my face. “I know.”
“Wait.” Wyatt’s brows shoot past his hairline, then he whispers. “Are you jealous?”
I scoff. “Ha. No.”
Nails tap on the table, and I look up to see both of my brothers looking at me with pointed gazes—smirks lining their lips. Heat crawls up my neck, and I start to shake my head. “I’m just worried. She kept fidgeting with the trays, barely looking at him.”
The smirks turn into full-blown grins and my fists curl and uncurl. “Seriously. She was so bothered that when I walked into the bakery she—” I catch myself, but that only makes both of their eyes dance.
“She, what?” Miles squawks, and they both lean in closer.
I tug at my shirt collar. Did they put the heat up? And since when have my brothers been so good at making intense eye contact? I clear my throat.
“You kissed her!” Wyatt exclaims, and I shush him quickly. I glance around to make sure no one overheard.
“Finally!” Miles yells, shoving his hands in the air. Every head in the restaurant turns toward us.
“Quiet!” I slap his arm down, then address all the curious eyes watching. “Sorry, everyone. My brother’s unable to contain himself like a normal human being. If you’d be so kind as to ignore him, our family would greatly appreciate it.”
The murmurs resume and chuckles rise from the men next to me. Glaring at them, I feel warmth rising up my neck, and they laugh harder.
“It must’ve been one heck of a kiss!” Wyatt waves his hand in front of his face, and I roll my eyes.
“Come on.” Miles leans in. “We’ve been waiting for you and Scarlett to kiss since you were in grade school. You need to give us details.”
Looking around for our server, my brothers snicker. “No one’s coming to save you, so you best just give us the deets.” Wyatt leans his elbow on the table and rests his head on his palm. Then the goofball widens his eyes and bats his lashes at me.
“Deets?” Miles smacks him.
“Ouch.” Wyatt hunches over, and I can’t help but laugh.
Running a hand through my hair, I shake my head at them, chewing the inside of my cheek in an attempt to keep from laughing. “You two are ridiculous.”
“This is the news of the decade,” Wyatt says, just as our server arrives and places one plate in front of each of my brothers and two in front of me. Wyatt, noticing my expression, points to the plates. “You were preoccupied with Scarlett and told him you wanted what we were having.”
I dip my chin.
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you,” Miles says as our server makes his way to help another customer.
Keeping my gaze on his back, I wait until he’s out of hearing range. “When I went to the bakery yesterday—”
“As soon as you got home?” Wyatt teases before shoveling a forkful of lasagna in his mouth.
“I went to visit Mom first.” I shake my head like that should be obvious, and my brothers roar. Ignoring them, I continue. “When I got to the bakery, Scar was talking to this guy, but she was fidgeting and side-eyeing him. Moving closer to the wall behind the counter.”
“These weren’t the details I meant,” Wyatt grumbles.
“Patience,” Miles says, like he’s an expert. “Five more minutes isn’t going to kill you.”
Dropping my head in my palm, I groan. “Do you two have to make this so awkward?”
“Yes,” Wyatt says as Miles says, “No.”
“But if you want to get the story out before Mom and Jacob get here, you’re running out of time.”
Miles nods, and Wyatt shoves another forkful of lasagna, not taking his eyes off of me.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I spill. Scarlett throwing her arms around me. The desperate way she whispered, “Pretend you’re my boyfriend,” right before her lips met mine. Then kissing me like she’d spent weeks in the Sahara and I was her first glass of water.
“It was even better than the first time.” I dare to peek through my fingers to find my brothers staring at me with their mouths agape.
“I’m sorry, what?” Miles’ eyes pop open.
“First time? Why didn’t you tell us about the—”
“It was a few days before Dad…” Both of them nod, understanding how something that momentous was unspoken. Silence descends, each of us lost in memories of the days before Dad’s death. And the blur of the weeks after. I shrug. “There was a lot going on. And then…well—”
Wyatt scoops the last of his lasagna before eyeing my untouched plate. I push it toward him. “Dad always said you two were perfect for each other.”
“He told me that too,” Miles acknowledges.
“Yeah, same. But how does someone kiss you like they’ve waited their entire life, only to ask when you’re going to have Emma set you up?”
“Emma? From From The Stands, With Love, Emma?” Miles’ brows knit together.
“Yup.”
“The matchmaker Emma?” Wyatt asks, his fork frozen in front of his face.
“What about Emma?” Mom’s voice has us all whipping our heads in her direction. “Is one of you going to use her matchmaking services and finally give me some grandbabies?”
“Mom!” We all groan, making her and Jacob laugh.
“Wellll. I’m not getting any younger.” She taps her foot on the floor, eyeing us all with a gleam.
“But you’re definitely getting more beautiful.” Jacob steps up behind her, places his hands on each one of her arms, and kisses her cheek.
“Thank you, my love.” Jacob pulls the chair beside me out and waits for Mom to sit. “You haven’t touched your meal yet, Steven. Is everything okay?”
Picking up my fork, I push the cold baked ziti around. “Yeah, just a long day.”
“Are you and Scarlett okay?” My eyes widen, and both my brothers start coughing.
“We’re fine, Mom.” She pins me with her gaze, and it takes everything in me not to look away. Apparently she wasn’t oblivious this morning. “Seriously. We’re fine.”
“Oh, they’re fine, alright,” Miles mumbles.
“More than fine,” Wyatt chuckles and nudges Miles with his elbow.
Glaring at them, I let out a sigh. Changing the topic to safer territory. “Declan Graham is on the Wolverines.”
“He is?” Mom’s brows shoot up, and I’m a bit surprised that she doesn’t know.
“Yeah,” Jacob chimes in. “He was traded last year. A great left winger. The two of you are going to make the forward line formidable.”
Moving my food across my plate, Jacob glances around the table at everyone’s stoic expressions. “What did I miss?”
“Declan Graham is the reason John and Duncan called you to help Steven all those years ago.”
Pushing my plate to the center of the table, I rub my forehead, a dull ache starting.
While my family fills Jacob in on the story of Declan Graham, I glance up just as Moretti’s front door opens, and my breath hitches.