Chapter 26

I walk into the house and have no idea what I’m about to find. But when I take in my wife, peeking in the oven. When she closes the door and turns toward me, sulking, I know it’s probably not good.

Thank God I went with two cake pops instead of one when I went to Starbucks today.

“Oh my God. The turkey is probably so overcooked.” Her face continues to crumple and she throws her head back. “Everyone is going to come over for Friendsgiving, expecting a good meal with a moist turkey, and instead … they’ll get dried-out turkey.”

“Ew, you said moist,” I grimace, pretending to gag. “Can you not ever say that word again?”

“Don’t be a baby,” she groans, clearly annoyed.

The thing about my wife is, she hates being under a lot of stress. When she brought the idea up to me that she wanted to host a Friendsgiving, I almost told her that it probably wasn’t the best idea because her mind gets frazzled with all the tasks and she wouldn’t let me help. But because I love her, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. So, here we are. She’s pissed at me, even though she isn’t actually pissed at me. And I’m simply trying to quietly breathe air and exist without making it worse.

“You’ve heard what Logan says about Maci. She’s a fabulous cook. Like … basically Gordon Ramsay, but cuter and nicer. And Poppy can’t cook for shit—unless she learned while I was gone, which, if she did, great. But now, she’s pregnant, and she deserves a good meal. Not to mention, her childhood sucked, and she never had a proper Thanksgiving dinner, and now, she and Walker go to freaking IHOP every year—”

“They love IHOP, babe. It’s their tradition,” I say and quickly regret interrupting her when she shoots me daggers. “And if they love IHOP, they’ll sure as fuck love your cooking too,” I quickly add, reminding myself that my wife loves me and that she’s overstimulated as fuck right now.

She’s been so engrossed in the apparently dry turkey that she hasn’t even noticed the shit in my hands from when I ran to town. Her eyes find the small Starbucks bag and the iced coffee, and suddenly, it’s like the demon that was just inside of her is out. She looks up at me as her lip pokes out, and she barrels toward me.

I hold them out to her. “Nothing a nasty cake pop and overpriced coffee won’t fix, right?” I shrug, winking at her playfully.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaks, looking up at me. “I’m just stressed. And when I do things like this, I remind myself that I am not an entertainer. Or a master chef. Or a great baker. I’m just … me.”

“Baby,” rushes from my lips, and I cup her cheeks, shutting her up. “Have you looked around this house? Who else in the Sharks family decorates like this?” I pull my hand back and wave it around at the intricately placed Christmas decor.

“Umm … everyone,” she answers matter-of-factly. “Literally every single player’s house, whether married or with a girlfriend, looks like ours right now. You know why? Pinterest, Kolt. Because of Pinterest, anyone can be an interior designer.”

Well … fuck.

“You make it hard to be nice when you can’t take a compliment, woman,” I joke sharply. “Okay, well, who else can fix a person’s bad back or aching neck in a few sessions?” I test her. “That’s right. No one coming to dinner tonight because my baby is one of the top physical therapists in New England.” When she doesn’t smile, I step around her and grab the magazine I’ve kept proudly on the counter, pointing to the writing in the corner of the cover. “And if you don’t believe me, just call this magazine. They’ll fill you in.”

A few days ago, she found out she was included in a list of the best physical therapists in the New England area. She’s been downplaying the shit out of it, but it’s a huge accomplishment, and I’m so fucking proud of my girl.

“Thank you,” she whispers, a smile slowly growing on her lips. “I know I’m acting like a crazy person. Why did I think it was a good idea to host Friendsgiving? I don’t host. I mean, I hardly even like to gather with this many people, let alone be the one cooking and cleaning.”

I cup her cheeks and bring my mouth down to hers. “Everyone is going to love everything you make, baby. I promise. And if they don’t … fuck ’em.” I playfully smack my lips against hers a few times. “I love you, and it’s all going to be fine.”

She doesn’t even try to look convinced, but instead frowns. “We should have gotten takeout. Or catering. You’re a bunch of NHL players; you can afford it.” She throws her head back. “It’s going to be fine.”

Her people-pleaser self did this to be nice and helpful. And now, she’s regretting it big time. Me? I would have never offered. But that’s because I don’t really give a fuck if anyone thinks I’m nice or helpful.

But this means something to my wife, which means it means a lot to me too. So, I’m not going to let this dinner suck. I’ll make damn sure it ends up being successful because that’s what she wants for our friends.

“Paige, everything was so good!” Poppy says from the couch, snuggled up next to her husband with a hand on her belly. “I’m stuffed.”

Her stomach is swollen and adorable. And despite everything going on in my life, I’m so happy for my friend. She’s truly glowing. Even when she was piling food into her mouth at a rapid speed.

“Thanks, but honestly, I need to thank Kolt and Maci.” I wave my hand toward the two who actually made today happen. “Without them, we would probably be eating Chick-fil-A or something.”

“One of my sons in the kitchen?” Marilyn says, smiling at Kolt. “Now, that is something I didn’t think I’d hear.”

“Hey, I cook every night,” Klay chimes in. “Kind of have to when you’re single, you know.”

“You cook Kraft Mac and Cheese and dino nuggets,” Kolt says from behind me. “I didn’t do much—I’ll tell you that. This woman prepped basically everything on her own. Mace and I just helped pull it together.” He pauses. “Mostly Mace.”

“Happy to help,” Maci says sweetly. “You did good, girl. I barely had to do anything.”

We both know that’s a lie. But in the short amount of time I’ve spent with her, I know that’s how she is. Maci is incredibly kindhearted.

After Kolt’s attempt to … calm me down, I looked around the kitchen and knew I was in over my head and had to call Maci to save me.

His mother is a wonderful cook, but she wasn’t due to arrive for hours. And as much as I love my husband and as great of a helper as he is, he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing in the kitchen. I mean, I can cook basic things and in normal amounts. That man struggles to boil potatoes. So, I knew I needed Maci. Thank God she agreed to come to the rescue. So, she, Amelia, and Logan came over early and helped us pull this thing together.

I relax between Kolt’s legs, reclining back and listening to the sound of him and everyone else here telling stories and making conversation. It feels so good to be back with our friends and family again. And I’ve loved getting reacquainted with the Sharks family.

For the first few years I was around them, I never would have imagined Logan would settle down, given how wild he was. But then Amelia happened, and he became the world’s best dad overnight. And now, he has Maci.

A few of the other guys on the team are married now; some even have kids too. But a lot of them—specifically Tripp, Ryder, and Smith—haven’t changed a bit.

Tripp has always reminded me the most of Kolt—minus the anger streak, of course. But like my husband, he doesn’t talk if he has nothing important to say. He’s polite, but he’s not over the top. Opposite of Logan and Klay, who are both here tonight—fighting over who is funnier, I’m sure.

Smith is the team’s undesignated shit-stirrer. He loves to get people wound up and enjoys seeing them sweat a little too. While Logan might tell dad jokes, Kolt used to come home and bitch about Smith playing pranks on him. I think he was an easy target for Smith because, as much as I love him, he’s a bit of a grump.

Women practically trip over themselves when Smith passes by. He’s gorgeous, and he knows it too.

Ryder has been known to be calm, cool, and collected—until he isn’t. And when he’s pushed to that point, hang the hell on because he’s about to mess some shit up.

Out of everyone, Smith, Tripp, and Ryder are probably the closest. Which is the same as Walker, Logan, and Kolt.

Kolt’s knees move as he laughs at something Logan said, and my heart warms. I’m so angry at myself for walking away from this, but I know I needed to leave to find my way back.

Tripp walks before us and holds his hand up. “Hey, thanks for dinner, y’all. I gotta run.”

“Where the fuck are you going so fast?” Ryder says. His eyes widen, and he looks at Logan. “I forgot Amy was here. Sorry, man.”

“All good. She’s playing an intense game of Old Maid with Klay,” Logan says.

“I, uh … just got some shit to do—that’s all.” Tripp shrugs. “See you later.”

Before Ryder can ask him anything else, he bolts. Proving that wherever he’s going, he doesn’t want to tell the class.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Smith looks intense while on his phone. Finally, he sets it down, dragging a hand down his face before he turns toward Kolt and me. He looks stressed—that’s for sure.

“Hey, my sister and her friend are in town. Do you mind if they swing in for a bit?” There’s an unusual heaviness in his tone, and I can’t help but wonder what’s going on with him.

“I mean, your sister is fine. But is this friend she’s bringing actually her friend, or is she going to hide in our hamper tonight and watch us sleep?” Kolt grumbles, instantly skeptical of this strange woman Smith has decided to invite in.

Swatting his knee, I quickly crane my neck and shoot him a warning before positioning myself toward Smith.

“What Grouchy Pants means is, any friend of your sister’s is a friend of ours. So, yes, by all means, bring her on over.” I smile, trying to smooth it over.

“Thanks.” He stands up and heads toward the door. “Hey, can you open the gate and let them in?”

“Oh, he meant, like, they are here. As in now,” Kolt deadpans before taking his phone and pulling up the app that unlocks the gate. “What if we’d said no?” he utters.

I push my finger into his toe, making him wince. “Cut it out. Play nice.”

“What do I get out of it if I do?” he murmurs in my ear.

“Do it and find out,” I say, winking before turning away from him.

Amelia looks extremely annoyed and skeptical of Klay before setting her cards down and heading toward us. “I think he cheated,” she says, glancing back at Klay.

“Very likely,” Kolt mutters behind me before Amelia makes it to me.

“Hey, hey, Paige. Sometime, could you and Uncle Kolty babysit me again?” she says, sitting down next to me. “And we can make heart pizzas.”

“Um … yes!” I nod quickly, running my hand over her head. “We would love that.”

“Hey, you’ve been too cool for me all night,” Kolt says, and she instantly leaps up and jumps on the couch beside him. “Playing Old Maid with my totally not-as-cool brother.”

I’m too distracted by Smith walking back into the living room with his sister and her friend behind him to hear what Kolt and Amelia are talking about though. And what is even more baffling is the strange look that Smith’s sister, Saylor, is giving Ryder right now.

I met Saylor when Smith joined the Sharks years ago. She’s sassy and witty. Though I was a little wary of her at first—mostly because she intimidated me with her long blonde hair, big blue eyes, and perfect body—we became friends not long after. As beautiful as she is, deep down, she still has the same insecurities every woman faces. And one thing about her is—at least before I left—she throws herself at the wrong men all too often. It seemed to me like she just wanted love, and now … I can’t help but wonder if she ever found it.

As if Saylor senses my gaze on her, she snaps her eyes toward me and waves. “Hey, girl!”

Standing quickly, I hug her just as her friend walks beside her.

“Paige, this is my friend, Gemma. Gemma, this is Paige.”

Right away, I recognize her name because Saylor has mentioned her in the past. If I remember correctly, I think they’ve been best friends since childhood.

“Hi,” Gemma says, her voice small.

She isn’t the shortest girl in the room, yet the way she carries herself, she might as well be. Her face is bruised, and there is a cut on her lip. I debate asking her what happened, but maybe she came here tonight, not wanting to be asked. And the way she’s acting, I’m guessing that’s the case.

Before we can talk more, Smith tugs on Gemma’s hand lightly, leading her into the kitchen and making Saylor frown.

“He can be such an ass sometimes,” she groans. She once again looks at the other side of the room, where Ryder is sitting. “Looks like you let all the asses in here tonight, huh?”

“I’m not even going to pretend to follow what you’re saying,” I utter. “But if you don’t want your brother to catch on, you might want to stop staring openly at his best friend.” I pause. “Then again, he just took your friend in the other room. Alone. ”

She rolls her eyes. “Let’s just say, they have a long, difficult, stupid history.”

I frown because I’ve known Smith for a long time now, and yet I’ve never seen that girl in my life. And I’ve only heard about her from Saylor, not Smith.

Before I can ask what she means, someone else calls her over, and she saunters off. I sit back down on the floor and look around. I guess, maybe, this friend group is about to get a lot more complicated.