Page 234 of Pucking Around

“We sexed him to death,” Cay teases, spearing a piece of fruit with his fork.

She ignores him, eyes on me. “I’m going to LA for a few days. I already bought the ticket when I did my little panic spiral last night, but now it has a return date,” she adds quickly, slipping off her stool to come take my hand.

“Why are you going to LA?”

She looks dressed and ready to leave—clothes on, hair washed, makeup done. I bet if I slept in any longer, I’d wake to find her gone. She tips up on her toes and gives me a quick kiss. She tastes like bacon and strawberries and fresh coffee.

“My parents are out in LA,” she explains, leading me over to the island.

There’s a small spread of breakfast—fresh juice, sliced berries and bananas, a big plate of bacon, and it smells like Mars is cooking something with eggs.

“Rakas, was this one mine?” he calls, leaning away from the stove to reach for a coffee mug.

“Hmm?” She glances over her shoulder. “No—”

“Mitä vittua,” he curses, spitting the coffee out into the sink and slamming the mug down. “Why is it mint?”

Rachel snorts. “Kulta, the blue mug was Caleb’s. Red was yours.”

“Yeah, thanks a lot, asshole,” Caleb mutters. “You owe me a new cup of coffee.”

“Why was it mint?” Mars says again.

“Caleb likes peppermint mochas because he’s fucking psychotic,” I say in a huff, snatching up a piece of bacon. “But don’t change the subject.Whyare you going to LA?”

“Because my parents are there,” she repeats. “And because I owe them an explanation in person. And because if I have to sit here for a week stewing in the fallout of my suspension, I’m gonna climb the freaking walls,” she adds. “Jake, I can’t just be trapped here while you three go into work. I’ll be a mess. And my parents deserve to hear from me in person what’s going on.”

I glance from Cay to Mars. They seem fine with this. I shouldn’t be freaked, right? “And you have a return ticket?”

She nods. “I come home Sunday.”

“Hey—we play in LA this week, don’t we? Isn’t our Saturday game against the LA Kings?”

“Yeah,” Caleb replies, taking a bite of his crunchy buttered toast.

“Cool,” I say, brightening up as I snag a handful of blueberries. “So, we’ll get to see you out there. And we can formally meet the parents. This’ll be great!”

Rachel and Caleb both go still.

“What? Marrying a girl means we meet her parents, right?” I say, popping a couple berries in my mouth. “Isn’t that how this works?”

“I…hadn’t thought of that,” she murmurs.

Slowly, we all turn as one to gape at her.

“What do you mean you hadn’t thought of it?” Caleb replies.

“I mean I quite literally never thought of the first ‘hey mom, meet my boyfriends’ conversation,” she squawks, hopping off her stool again.

“How is that possible?” I say.

“Well—I don’t know! I guess, in my mind I’ve played out all these visions of us together—Christmas and vacations and games—but in all those scenarios, they already knew you,” she explains. “I never once considered needing to have the awkward intro moment.”

Caleb huffs a laugh. “What’s the big deal? Have you never introduced your parents to a boyfriend before?”

The deafening silence in the room is broken only by the sizzle of eggs as all three of us stare at her.

“You gotta be shitting me, Seattle,” I mutter. “You’veneverintroduced your parents to a boyfriend before?”