Page 107 of Branded (Breakers Hockey)

Thirty-Six

Jules

“No, Mom,” Ethan said, his butter-covered hands coming over mine and grabbing out a huge handful of sugar and cinnamon mixture from the bowl I’d been put in charge of. “Nonna JoJo says you can’t have too much cinnamon and sugar.”

“Except Nonna JoJo doesn’t have to deal with a sugared-up five-year-old,” Cas whispered, making me giggle, even as he scooped his hand into the bowl, and since it was significantly larger than Ethan’s, it provided significantly more sugar to spread onto the dough that had been buttered by Ethan.

With Ethan’s bare hands.

Because, apparently, cinnamon rolls tasted better when made with bare hands.

This was a statement Ethan could get behind.

My kid loved getting messy.

And since Nonna JoJo—aka Joanne—was clearly the cinnamon roll expert, and thus, all things cinnamon, sugar, butter, yeast, or dough-related deferred to her.

But it was something that I had embraced as well, and although I was covered in flour and sugar and butter and cinnamon, I was having the best time.

Partly because I was hanging with Ethan and Cas and making something together, but also because Cas’s family was like him.

Nice and kind and thoughtful and Joanne hadn’t even blinked when Ethan had given her a hug and had gotten butter on her jeans.

For that matter, neither had Cas’s dad—also Luca, though he actually went by Luca (or as he’d advised Ethan to call him, Ace)—when Ethan had high-fived him and he’d ended up with a glob of butter on his pale green polo.

Margot and Sam and Kathy had joined in on the mess just as eagerly, each assigned a job they’d clearly done for years and each gentle and sweet and patient as they’d showed Ethan how to do their tasks, not seeming to mind that a five-year-old was making a mess of it.

They were laid back expert cinnamon roll makers who didn’t care that the butter was going to leave grease stains on their clothes or that the rolls were uneven and maybe a bit lumpy or that?—

Cas kissed the hinge of my jaw, murmured, “Spread the sugar, gorgeous.”

It was hard to concentrate with his big, warm body pressed to mine, even harder to concentrate with Ethan making a mess.

But, frankly, all of that was not even remotely as challenging as trying to concentrate when his siblings were watching me and Cas like we were scientific experiments, while also being extremely funny and cool and welcoming to Ethan.

And to me.

Asking me about school—and commiserating how hard it was to work and study at the same time.

Talking to Ethan about his interests—which, unfortunately for me, now included breaking down every single trap that Kevin from Home Alone had laid out for the robbers.

The movie had given him ideas —and sweet baby Jesus, that was terrifying.

Ideas that were only slightly less terrifying than the curious looks that had greeted me when Cas and I had strode through the doorway that led into the kitchen, holding hands.

I’d apologized and fussed over Ethan—tried to make it clear that he didn’t spend time awake without me and I didn’t want Cas’s parents to think I neglected my kid.

A worry that had lasted approximately ten seconds.

Because then Joanne was wrapping me in a tight hug—a Mom hug—and then she’d pulled back, studied me closely.

“Look at those dark circles you both have.” A shake of her head.

“You should have had us come earlier. We could have watched Ethan while you both got more rest.” Another squeeze.

“Feel free to pop up for a nap later. I know how hard it is trying to do everything.”

I figured, with four kids and a job, that Joanne probably did know.

“Now,” she’d said, drawing me further into the kitchen. “Cas has told us next to nothing about you and Ethan”—a glare at her son—“which means that I need to know everything.”

Said not in a scary, demanding way.

But rather, in a kind, friendly, maternal way.

And the front I’d pulled up in Cas’s bedroom—about there being nothing to worry about because we loved each other—had clicked into place. Only it wasn’t a front, hadn’t been me holding it together because he was clearly worried.

Not any longer.

Because one hug and a short conversation, and I’d known it would be the truth.

This was going to be okay.

We were going to be okay.

And bonus, it came with butter and sugar and cinnamon.

“So, what are you studying, darlin’?” Luca asked, sitting next to me.

I’d plunked down onto the couch, was watching the action in the kitchen while eating my third cinnamon roll.

They were delicious.

Nonna JoJo was right. There was no such thing as too much sugar.

Especially when I’d eaten bacon and eggs alongside the baked goods.

Definitely not a healthy meal. Nor one eaten remotely near brunch time. They’d become early afternoon cinnamon rolls (because it took a long time to make cinnamon rolls with a five-year-old who had a ton of questions—not to mention a grown woman who had an equal amount of very similar questions).

But no one seemed to mind—the timing or the questions.

So, we’d all eaten and then did dishes and then I’d gone back for seconds—or thirds, I supposed.

But it was cold and overcast outside and the meal was warm and spicy…and felt like home.

I felt home here in Cas’s place, surrounded by his family, by the laughter and easy acceptance.

But…I couldn’t lie and say I didn’t feel a bit intimidated being near Luca, and so I hadn’t really put myself out there with him.

He hadn’t given me any indication he wouldn’t be open to conversation.

It was just that I was more comfortable with Margot and Sam and Kathy and Kathy’s husband, Tim, who teased each other and bantered just like the Breakers’ players and their significant others did when they came into CeCe’s.

And obviously, Joanne was amazing—sweet and bubbly and giving me major Beth vibes, so I was feeling right at home with her too.

Interacting with Luca, though?

Well, that had been…hesitant.

Mostly because—in my experience—dads were scary and not nice and?—

Right. Crap.

He was waiting for me to answer a question. And dads got impatient, and he might think I was dumb and?—

His hand came over mine, squeezed lightly before letting go. “It’s not a trick question, darlin’,” he said gently. “I promise.”

“I know,” I whispered after a moment, holding very still. “I just?—”

I bit my lip, knowing I had a choice here—one I knew that Cas would make for me if I let him.

He would step in, make the call to protect me from this conversation because he knew it wasn’t the most comfortable place for me.

He’d done the same thing throughout the entire visit.

Like when I’d been vague about some of the details of my childhood, and he’d given his family pointed looks so they’d accepted that vague without further explanation.

Because of Cas, they’d taken my benign explanation about my mom dying and my father not being currently in my or Ethan’s lives at…well, maybe not at face value. But they hadn’t pressed for anything further…and then they’d gone back to baking.

Similar to how they’d accepted my short explanation about Ethan’s dad—though that had, luckily, required fewer vague comments and euphemisms and pointed looks from Cas.

Because Ethan was nearby, and they were careful with him.

I knew that part of Cas stepping in was that he was protecting me and Ethan, saving me from dredging up painful shit, but I also recognized that his family had left it alone because they were nice people, and they’d picked up on the fact that it wasn’t a comfortable conversation for me.

So yeah, as the afternoon had rolled on, it was clear where Cas had gotten the Nice Trait.

From a good family.

Good siblings.

A good mother.

A good father.

The last of which was why I released a breath, shoved down the prickling instincts that told me nothing good could come of this conversation, met Luca’s eyes, and said, “I’m not used to this.”

It was a soft admission.

“Not used to what, honey?” he asked kindly.

Another breath and then I gave him more honesty. “I’m not used to a father who’s interested in my life.” I cleared my throat, tone a little quieter. “I’m not used to a father who likes his kids, let alone one who looks at his kids like you do.”

Silence.

Long. Not particularly comfortable.

Then, “How do I look at them?”

My throat was tight, but I pushed the words through. “Like you love them.”

He inhaled sharply enough that Cas called out, “Gorgeous?”

Seeing me. Watching out for me. Protecting me.

I turned, forced a smile, and directed it at him. “I’m good, honey. Promise,” I added when he didn’t look convinced.

“I hate that for you.”

I blinked, glanced back at Luca, met eyes that were Cas’s eyes. And just like Cas’s, they were warm and gentle and kind. “Sorry?”

His hand came back, only this time it wasn’t just for a light squeeze. He covered my hand with his and left it there. His skin was a little rough, but the hold was all gentle. “I hate that someone as deserving as you didn’t have something good at home.”

His tone was gentle, too.

And comforting.

And I didn’t know what to do with that .

So…I just breathed and held very still and deep down I hoped that one day it wouldn’t be so hard to accept that fathers could be kind.

That one day I could accept it without a second thought.

Then I slipped my hand free, having reached my limit of Dad-ness, and managed to pull myself back to today, to focus on happier topics.

“School,” I said, and he nodded approvingly as I got our conversation back on track. “The hope is that one day I’ll go to nursing school,” I told him. “But right now, I’m just slowly plugging away at all of my general ed requirements.”

He didn’t reach for me again, and he didn’t seem upset that I’d pulled back.

Patient.

Like Cas.

And maybe he liked me.

Like Cas.

“That’s good, darlin’,” he said. “Gotta take it one step at a time, especially with a little one at home and a full-time job.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. Then paused, stymied, not knowing what to say next.

Though I didn’t have to fumble for long. Luca filled the silence by asking, “Nursing, huh?”

Instinctively, I braced. Cas’s dad had been nice so far, but, in my experience, father figures tended to strike out at the time I was the most unprepared. For all I knew, there was a snarky comment about me not being smart enough to go into a field like nursing coming my way.

But when Luca just nodded, and I saw that same kindness Cas had demonstrated over and over again, I knew that bracing and preparing wasn’t something that I’d have to keep on doing.

Because Cas had to have gotten his kind and soft from somewhere—and it was clear the man sitting next to me had played a huge role in it.

Especially when he smiled and said, “I can see you as a nurse.”

My brows lifted.

“You’ve got a good heart.” A wink. “Plus, you’ll look good in scrubs.”

My lips curved, the past fading and amusement crowding in. “That factors?”

“Gotta look good to play good—” He shrugged. “Or medicine good, as it is.”

I giggled.

Giggled.

And then, oddly, my eyes stung. Because I’d never had anything close to this with my own dad.

And that hurt.

But I kept it together…at least until there was a cheer and I turned and saw Ethan, Cas, his mom, and all his siblings sitting at the kitchen table playing UNO.

My son…he was shining.

Part of this was normal for him—we played UNO a lot.

But part of it was completely out there.

Because he’d never had this. He’d never had the chance to bask in the positive attention of a family. But Cas—and Cas’s family—had given him that.

And that was when I lost it.

“Excuse me,” I whispered, jumping to my feet.

“You okay, darlin’?” Luca asked, following me up.

“Great.” Shit . My voice had cracked on that lie. “I just need some air,” I managed to croak out. Then I hurried to the door, avoiding Cas’s eyes.

His concerned eyes.

And the concerned gazes of his family.

“Jules?” he asked, and I heard his chair slide back.

“I’m good,” I called, still beelining for the front door. “I just need some air.” There. That sounded a little more normal.

I turned the handle, yanked open the door, and froze.

Cas’s voice was close to my ear, having already come to me.

Because…he was Cas.

But he didn’t sound like my Cas when he growled,

“You have got to be shitting me.”