Page 35

Thirty-Five

Aiden

“This place is sick!” Smitty booms as I unlock the front door and push it open.

Well, if my mom and Luns needed a warning that I’ve arrived with a car full of hockey players, here it is.

Gray sighs as he slips by me, toeing off his shoes by the rack and hanging up his coat on the row of hooks I nod toward. “As usual, the man is loud but”—he lowers his voice slightly, as though not wanting to give Smitty more ammunition—“he’s also right. This house is amazing.”

It really is.

A gorgeous historical craftsman style house with lots of wood trim and enough windows to make it feel bright and sunny rather than shrouded in shadows and darkness.

“What was that?” Smitty shoves his face between us, beard so close that I can see the strands of gray woven through the brown. “I’m right?!” He pumps his fist in the air. “That’s right, bitches, I’m right!”

“When’s Kailey getting here?” I ask Joel, who’s slipped in behind us and closed the door.

“Because she’s the only one who can handle him?” he quips.

“Exactly,” Gray and I say together.

Smitty’s unperturbed (and doesn’t deny the statement about his wife handling him) as he tells us, “She’s finishing up a project”—Kailey is a computer programmer—“but will be here soon.”

“Thank God for that,” Gray mutters.

“Seriously,” I mutter back.

“Rude,” Smitty declares then promptly displays exactly how little that bothers him by asking, “Where’s the grub?”

Luna steps out into the hall, looking ethereal in a cream shirt and loose-fitting pants, her hair cascading down her shoulders. She’s fucking beautiful, and I’m damned glad I’ve made her mine.

I just need to make sure that mine lasts forever.

Because having had her like this…

Nope. I can’t ever let her go.

“Is that a gaggle of hockey players I hear?” she says as she comes toward me, and it does my heart good when she moves close, when she lets me wrap an arm around her middle and draw her against me, when she doesn’t shy away from me slanting my lips over hers for a short, heated kiss— even in front of the aforementioned gaggle of hockey players.

She just lightly strokes her fingertips through my beard when I pull back, murmuring, “Hi.”

“Hi, tiny tornado.”

Her mouth tips up at the edges. “No,” she says softly. “That’s your mom. She’s whipped the house into shape in less time than you’d believe.” A beat, her eyes dancing. “How was the flight back?”

Weather meant our intended arrival yesterday had been pushed back to this morning.

“Good,” I tell her. “Or good enough to bring said gaggle of rowdy hockey players in my car with more on the way behind me.”

“Heaven help us.”

“Considering that Smitty’s here already…”

“Hey!” he chimes in, right on cue. “Again , rude!”

Luna giggles, which is pretty much the worst thing anyone can do when it comes to Smitty—giving him fuel for his incorrigible fire. He perks up, opening his mouth, and considering it’s right near my ear, I prepare to put some distance between us, lest the volume tries to ruin my hearing.

Before I can move though, the doorbell rings and my mom zips out into the hall and…

The next ten minutes are chaos.

More guys from the team show up and we’re herded from the front door further into the house—Luns wasn’t lying, my mom’s tornado skills have clearly been on point over the last week.

The place is so gorgeous, it could be a showroom.

There’s not a box or speck of dust in sight.

But it doesn’t compare to Luna in the space—she shines more brightly than the wood floor, looks more comfortable and at home here than anywhere except when we steal a few minutes for just the two of us in bed or sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking hot cocoa.

There’s something settled in her, some rough edge that has been honed down, and that truth sews itself deeply inside me.

My mom has been working her magic.

And Luna is beginning to accept that we’re not just a marriage license, not just friends or lovers.

We’re us.

And one look at her tells me she’s getting comfortable with that truth—something that makes me want to preen like a fucking peacock.

I don’t have a chance to, though.

Between answering the door and showing my teammates through the house, playing my part of host and newlywed, I’m too busy.

When I finally slip free of my hosting duties, I seek her out in the kitchen.

She’s filling platters of food on the counter, a teenage girl with brown hair and striking brown eyes—did Bri really come?

—hovering close to her side. My mom’s close too, as though they’re sandwiching the girl, protecting her.

Yup. That definitely must be Bri.

Knowing a bit of what the teenager has been through, I immediately slow my approach, waiting for Luna’s eyes connect with mine.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I say gently, touching her cheek lightly with the back of my hand.

“All good?” she asks. “We’re almost done here.”

“All good,” I tell her lightly. “The masses have been allowed in to the keep and given the full tour.” I snag the empty container from her and bring it over to the sink.

“Then, as instructed by the lead tornado”—I hitch my head toward my mom—“they’ve been sent out back with beers so they don’t get underfoot. ”

“Well done and thanks.” A beat, her mouth curving. “From me and the lead tornado.”

“What’s all this tornado talk?” my mom asks in the edgy way she gets when in full party prep mode.

“I used to call Luns tiny tornado because of the way she spun on the ice,” I explain without delay—it’s best not to delay when my mom is like this.

Provide all information. Follow all orders.

But teasing? Absolutely not. But have I learned my lesson?

I suppose not. Because my next words are, “It also works with a mom in Party Mode.”

She scowls at me. “I’m doing this for you, you know.”

“I know.” I kiss the top of her head, pull her into a half hug. “And I really appreciate it.” I take the container she’s holding and keep it steady as she finishes with her platter. “I love you, Mom.”

Her tongs still.

Then she sets them down and pats my cheek. “I love you too, baby boy.”

“I know,” I tell her. “And seriously, thank you for all you’ve done these last few weeks.”

“Pish.” She waves a hand. “It was nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Luna says before I can, coming over and hugging her too. “Thank you for everything, Kathy. I mean it.”

My mom sniffs. “Stop it you too.”

Probably seeing how close she is to the edge, Luna gives her another hug then releases her, getting back to business. “Take that to the sink,” she orders me of another empty container. “Then come meet Bri.”

The brunette teenager stiffens for a moment and I know when she exhales and I watch the girl deliberately calm herself, that Luns has called out the introduction in order to give her time to prepare for it.

This girl has been through shit.

And yet…she’s here, clearly having stepped out of her comfort zone.

Brave girl.

Strong girl.

A survivor.

Just like my Luns.

I settle the container in the sink then go back over to the trio. “Hey, Bri.” I extend my hand slowly. “I’m Aiden.”

Her shoulders rise and fall on a slow breath, but she wraps her fingers around mine. “Nice to meet you,” she says quietly. Edgily.

I decide to use my previous knowledge and pull out the big guns.

“Did Luna show you the library?”

Her eyes go wide even as Luna’s hit mine, sparkling with humor, knowing precisely what I’m doing. “No,” she says, nudging my side. “But when things calm down and our social batteries are drained I figured that Bri and I would hide there.”

“You have a library? ” Bri asks, clearly in awe.

“Less library and more room crammed with books since Kathy helped me unpack the boxes. And yes,” she adds, bumping Bri’s shoulder with her own. “There are loads of books in there that you’ll like.” A wink. “And that you can borrow.”

“Really?”

“Really really ,” Luns teases.

Bri opens her mouth to reply, but the moment is broken by a big, bearded— loud —hockey player.

“The entertainment has arrived!” Smitty calls as he bursts into the kitchen holding a huge plastic tub that—heaven help me—appears to contain a karaoke machine. “Who’s ready to sing, bitches?!”

Christ.

This is my nightmare.

Especially since Luna loves karaoke.

So, there’s definitely going to be video of me on social media dueting some pop ballad.

“Let’s fucking go!” Smitty cheers, rattling the box.

“Smitty!” my mom cries. “Language.”

“Lang—” He frowns. Then freezes, spotting Bri. “Oh, young ears. My bad.”

“Excuse my husband,” Kailey says, touching his shoulder as she shifts from behind his bulk and moves toward me. “Aiden, sorry I’m late. It’s good to see you again.”

“No apologies.” I tell her, hugging her quickly. “You figure out the issue with your project?”

“No.” She scowls. “There’s a bug somewhere, but I needed a break before I sort it out.” Her scowl deepens. “ If I figure it out.”

“You’ll figure it out, little bird,” Smitty murmurs, voice gentled in a way that’s special only to Kailey. “You always do.”

She touches his jaw, and I watch the big man melt when she lifts up and whispers something in his ear.

I know that Bri sees it too.

Because her expression clouds with confusion.

Then goes carefully blank.

As though she’s storing all of this to sort out later.

Before I can think that through, figure out how best to help with that, my mom zips back to tornado duties.

“Smitty, take the karaoke machine outside and set it up. Aiden, your dad just texted me that he and your siblings need help unloading the car. Bri and Luna, you’re relieved of duty. Go be social.”

Luns and Bri exchange a look?—

“And being social means not hiding in the library,” my mom chides. “It means eating, drinking, and socializing .”

Their twin scowls at being thwarted has laughter bubbling in my chest.

But before I can let it free, the doorbell rings again.

And…it’s back to work.