Chapter 40
luna
I didn’t even know where to start. The table was packed so full, it looked like a county fair had exploded across the tablecloth.
There was a giant crock of cheesy hashbrown casserole, golden crust from the cornflakes baked on top.
Then a bowl of something pale and gloopy that turned out to be “frog eye salad,” its little pasta pearls floating in a suspiciously sweet custard with pineapple chunks.
There were dinner rolls big enough to use as pillows, a green bean casserole smothered in cream-of-something soup, and a glistening pink “salad” molded into a ring, dotted with what I think were maraschino cherries.
I took a little of everything because I wasn’t sure what was safe and what would offend someone if I didn’t try it.
I leaned toward Jer. “This is still better than that time we tried to eat corn straight off the stalk before it was ripe.”
His lips twitched. “At least that didn’t have marshmallows in it.”
I scooped a bite of the frog eye salad just to prove a point. “Oh, hush. Builds character. Besides, it’s kind of good.”
“Luna, that is not good. That’s a war crime in a bowl.”
I snorted, almost choking on my bite. “You’re such a food snob.”
“Snob? No,” he muttered, spearing a dinner roll and tearing it apart. “I just like my pasta not pretending to be dessert.”
I bumped his elbow with mine. “You’re surviving.”
Dirks was mid-conversation with his mom, but his hand found my thigh under the table. My fork stilled for half a second before I kept eating.
“So, Jeremy, how do you know Dirks?”
Oh, goodie. I hid my smirk behind another bite of casserole. This was it. The moment the real family drama might start to simmer.
Before Jer could even answer Dirks’s mom, Tom piped up from across the table.
“I bet you’re a hockey player. You look like one.”
I cocked my head toward him, my fork pausing halfway to my mouth. “And how exactly does one look like a hockey player?”
Tom’s smile faltered, and he shifted in his chair. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like—”
“No, no.” I rested my chin on my palm, eyes still on him. “I think I’d like to hear what you have to say, Tom.”
There was a beat of uncomfortable silence before he finally muttered, “The tattoos.”
“Uh-huh.”
His mother, bless her, looked like she was ready to jump in and smooth things over before it got tense. She really was lovely, and I knew she and Dirks were close—the kind of mom who still called him “my boy” without irony. His dad sat at the opposite end of the table and set his fork down.
“You used to play?”
“Yeah, I played for the Ravens for a bit. I’m younger than Dirks, but I left the league early.”
I slid my hand under the tablecloth, finding his thigh. I gave it a slow squeeze—not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough to make his jaw flex. He shot me a quick glare, the kind that meant knock it off, but I caught the way his shoulders loosened just a little. He hated it.
He loved it.
Before he could retaliate, Dirks set his fork down with a deliberate clink. “Mom? Dad? Dani? I have to tell you something.”
Jer and I turned to him at the same time.
“Luna is my girlfriend,” Dirks announced.
Oh shit. I am?
My fork hit the plate.
“I am?” I said aloud this time, eyes darting between him and the rest of the table.
Dirks gave a half smile. “Yeah, I know we never officially—”
“No, of course, baby.” I leaned over to give him a quick kiss before anyone could see the flicker of panic behind my smile. “I love you.”
“That’s wonderful,” his mom said warmly.
“Good. Congrats,” his dad mumbled.
“Proud of you,” Dani chimed in.
“Yay, Uncle Dirks!” the kids shouted.
The sound made my chest ache. It reminded me of Scarlette and how she always called him “Dicks” just to make him groan. God, I missed her. I needed to see Nova more, but she was so busy with Ollie joining them Stateside and planning their wedding.
Dirks cleared his throat, dragging me back into the present. “That’s not all—”
“That’s unnecessary.” Jeremy interrupted sharply, his eyes cutting into him.
“No, I want to—” Dirks started, but the scrape of Jeremy’s chair cut him off.
“I’m tired. I think I’m gonna head to the cabin. It’s out back, right?”
Dirks’s dad stood immediately, reading the room like only a father who’d raised a hockey player through countless fights could. “Here, let me point it out—”
“Never mind,” Dirks said quickly, shaking his head.
I slipped my hand under the table, finding his leg and giving it a small squeeze, a silent plea to just let it go.
“So, Luna.” Dani cut in. “Dirks tells me you lived in London? You have to tell me everything. It’s my dream vacation spot.”
I laughed and rolled with Dani’s conversation, keeping it light until the plates were cleared and the kids were whisked away to bed. Eventually, we all drifted toward the living room, settling by the fire.
Dirks pulled me aside, his hand brushing against mine as we stepped into a quieter corner of the room.
“I feel bad,” he murmured. “I should’ve . . . I just thought after the car—”
“It’s okay.” I offered him a small smile and pressed my lips to his, a kiss slow enough to make him know I meant it. “You did good.”
His shoulders eased a little, but I didn’t let go. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him tight, my cheek against his chest. “I love you so much. Thank you for introducing me to your family.”
He brought his arms around me. “Thanks for being you, Luna girl.”
I smiled against him, letting the quiet moment stretch before I finally pulled back. “I’m going to check on him.” I gave his hand one last squeeze, then turned back toward the living room. “Good night, everyone. Thank you for dinner. I think I’m going to crash. Long day.”
His mom gave me a warm smile. “Sleep well, sweetheart.”
Dani waved from the couch, curled up with a blanket. Even Tom gave me a polite nod.
I grabbed my coat from the rack by the door, shrugging it on as the cool air rushed in. “See you in the morning,” I said, stepping outside.
The night was crisp, quiet except for the crunch of snow under my boots. The cabin was a few hundred feet from the house, but out in the dark, it was its own world. The soft glow from its window was the only light in a sea of winter black.
I pushed open the door, and Jeremy was slouched on the small sofa, elbows on his knees, head bent.
The cabin was one room with a queen bed in the corner, a tiny kitchenette tucked along one wall, the sofa where he sat, and no TV.
Just the hum of the heater and the faint creak of the old wood under my boots.
He looked up when I stepped inside, his gaze dragging over me from head to toe like he couldn’t decide whether to be annoyed or relieved.
“It’s just the two of us,” he murmured.