Page 48 of Forbidden Hockey

“How come you don’t make this?” Trav says to me around a bite of hot bread and butter, and fuck, I see bread-making in my future. If Trav wants it, I’ll do it.

“He killed the last batch of starter I gave him,” Hunter says.

“I’m a hockey player; we don’t specialize in artisanal goods.” It’s not lost upon me that construction guys like my brother aren’t who you’d typically see wearing aprons and baking bread either.

“I want some,” Trav declares.

“Then I’d better try again, Hunt. Uskidstake care of this old man around the restaurant. Wouldn’t want him developing a gluten intolerance from the kind of bread you get at the store.” Don’t know if that’s an actual thing, but it’s funny as hell to needle him.

“I’ve got more bread in the oven,” he says. “Be right back.”

Hunter gets up, Trav turns to shoot me a beaming smile, catching my pinky with his. It’s a small gesture, but it feels as big as the First of July fireworks on Canada Day. He’s quick to release my pinky once Hunter’s on his way back. He loads Trav up with enough bread to give him a food baby.

Somehow, we make it through the night. Hunter spoons gooey bread starter into a jar, and stuffs so many preserves in a cloth bag for me to take home that I’m gonna nickname him Holly Homemaker.

Or Hunter Homemaker, I guess.

“You know, Hunt, this is looking suspicious. You have all this time to make preserves and home-baked bread, and yet no time for a boyfriend or girlfriend,” I say while I wait for Trav to be done in the washroom.

Hunter reaches an arm up along the doorframe, tapping his fingers as if he’s waiting for an answer to come. “How about we agree not to comment on things that look suspicious for now?”

My stomach plunges into ice-cold nothingness. Does he know? No. He doesn’t know, but he’s suspicious. It’s Travis, though, so I guess I’m getting the benefit of the doubt.

For now.

Trav returns, thankfully, and Hunter stares at him for too long as if he’s trying to see inside his brain.

“Thanks again for looking out for this one,” Hunter says. “If I chanced upon someone taking advantage of my little brother, I’d be in jail right now.”

Hunter’s meaning is clear.

In true Travis fashion, he’s unfazed. “No one’s taking advantage of him on my watch.”

Halfway down the street, Trav chuckles his face off. “That was cute.”

I punch him in the arm. “That was fucking terrible. He suspects something.”

“He more than suspects something.”

“This is your fault,” I accuse. “You shouldn’t have stayed for dinner. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking you weren’t gonna ogle me like a fucking schoolboy.”

“I was not.”

“Was too. I, on the other hand, put on the perfect show.”

“Asshole.” He was better than me, I’ll admit that, but he was the one locking pinkies with me under the table. Guess this is dead in the water. We can’t even get through dinner with my brother, because yeah, my adoration for Trav is all over my face. Hard to be mad about that, though.

We make it to Trav’s bike. He hands me a helmet while he packs away the bag of stuff Hunter gave us.

“You just happened to have two helmets with you?”

“Nope. That one was always for you. Even if your date wasn’t assaulting you, I was bringing you with me.”

“First of all, wasn’t a real date. Second, hot. Third, all this has done is make me want to make you more jealous.”

“I doubt you’ll feel the same way after the punishment I have planned for you.”