Page 29

Chapter 29

RYLAN

F or fuck's sake. Of all the restaurants in Boston...

I freeze mid-step, causing Ben to bump into me from behind.

Jamie's family takes up the corner table like they own it, radiating that casual confidence that comes from old money and Ivy League degrees. His father's got reading glasses perched on his nose, his brother, the neurosurgeon—because of course he's a fucking neurosurgeon —is gesturing animatedly about something while his lawyer sister nods. And there's Jamie, looking unfairly gorgeous in his post-game suit, wearing that deer-in-headlights expression as his elegantly dressed mother spots us and waves us over with an enthusiastic smile.

My carefully constructed walls start crumbling at the edges just watching them together: their easy affection and inside jokes. Everything I lost after losing Mom and Nick. Everything I've convinced myself I don't need anymore.

"Over here!" Alexandra calls her wave somehow both elegant and enthusiastic. "Please, you must join us!"

"Dude," Aleks mutters behind me. "Is that Jamie Pirelli's mom trying to wave us over?"

"Apparently, it is," I manage, pasting on what I hope passes for a professional smile.

"Wait, is that Adam Pirelli?" Ben says suddenly. Of course, they know each other. They're both brilliant neurosurgeons. Which means there's officially no escape from this dinner.

Jamie's mom is already up, heading in our direction with the same kind of effortless grace Jamie has on the ice. "I'm Alexandra Pirelli," she says warmly, extending her hand. "You must be Rylan. It's so nice to meet you in person."

Her smile is so genuine it hurts. When was the last time someone's mom, other than maybe Jenny Tremblay, looked at me like that? Like I matter beyond my stats and captain's letter.

Over her shoulder, Jamie looks like he wants to slide under the table. I know exactly how he feels.

"It's nice to meet you, too Mrs. Pirelli."

"Alexandra, please." Her smile reaches her eyes, creating tiny laugh lines. "And you must all join us. There's plenty of room."

"Oh, we wouldn't want to intru—"

"Dr. Ben Jacobs?" Jamie's brother interrupts recognition lighting his face. "I just read your paper on repetitive impact trauma in so-called non-contact sports."

"Dr. Adam Pirelli," Ben grins, extending his hand. "Your work on neural regeneration is groundbreaking."

Alexandra's smile widens. "Well, this is wonderful! Joseph, dear, make room, please. We need to grab more chairs."

Jamie's father smiles up at us. "Fair warning, gentlemen. When Alexandra decides you're joining us for dinner, resistance is futile. It's best to surrender gracefully."

Before I know it, we're swept into their orbit. The waitstaff appears as if summoned by magic, pushing tables together, and producing extra place settings. Somehow I end up beside Jamie. Our knees brush briefly under the table before I can shift away. His mom settles directly across from me, her keen but friendly eyes missing nothing.

"The wagyu here is excellent," she says, smoothly steering the conversation as Ben and Adam launch into rapid-fire medical talk that might as well be Finnish. "Though Jamie tells me you're quite particular about your pre-game meals?"

"I, uh..." I focus on unfolding my napkin with military precision. "Yeah, I try to stick to a routine."

"Smart," Jamie's sister, Lola, chimes in. "I do the same before big court cases. Though I doubt my protein bar and triple espresso breakfast would cut it for professional athletes."

"You'd be surprised," Jamie says, with a grin. "I've seen guys survive on nothing but coffee and determination during playoff runs."

"Jamie Alexander," Alexandra scolds, but her eyes are twinkling. "Don't be ridiculous!"

Jamie grins behind his water glass, clearly enjoying pushing his mom's buttons a little.

"Jamie tells me you've been helping him adjust to Seattle?"

"Well, sure. The whole team helps new players settle in," I say carefully. Under the table, Jamie's knee brushes mine again. This time I can't make myself pull away.

"Still, it must be nice to have someone looking out for you," she says to Jamie, but her eyes never leave my face. "Especially given your terrible experience in Florida."

The protective surge that hits me is instant and overwhelming. "Jamie's been a great addition to the Sasquatch," I say, maybe a little too forcefully. "It was absolutely Florida's loss when they traded him."

I glance over to find Jamie staring at me, a soft expression on his face that makes my chest ache. Alexandra's smile could power the city of Boston.

"Well," she says finally. "I'm glad he has such a passionate advocate in his corner.

The conversation shifts as Jamie's dad looks up. "Speaking of Florida, I've been reading fascinating research on Hemingway, and how he—"

"Dad," Jamie groans. "Not everyone wants to analyze nineteenth-century literature over dinner."

Something flickers in Alexandra's expression. She watches me for a moment with kind eyes, as her husband keeps talking about literature, apparently not bothered that no one is paying much attention to him.

When the waiter appears beside her, she eyeballs my nearly empty plate. "Rylan, did you enjoy your chicken? she asks softly. "You should order some more."

"Oh no, I'm fine." I straighten my silverware, avoiding her gentle concern. "Jamie wasn't kidding. I watch my intake pretty carefully."

"Mm." She smiles. "There's nothing we can tempt you with? I mean, the rest of us have all stuffed ourselves with this delicious pasta, I hate that you're missing out. Although I understand you athletes do need to be conscious…" Her eyes are twinkling.

Her eyes twinkle, and even though she's being a little pushy, her simple concern hits me right in the chest. It's been years since anyone fussed over what I eat. Jamie's hand twitches toward mine under the table before he catches himself.

"Mom tends to get a little pushy around food. She claims it's how she shows love," Jamie says, shooting his mom a raised eyebrow.

"I know I know. I'm a caretaker at heart, so it comes from a good place. But I'm sorry if I'm pushing too hard," she says, the smile still on her face. "I think it's partly the Italian in me. Food is a whole thing with us."

"Seriously, she's not kidding about that," Lola chimes in. "Impossible to be on a diet around my mother, which was both a blessing and a curse as a teenage girl." She grins as Alexandra just waves her hand at her daughter.

"Teenage girls should not ever be on diets! That's partly why we have such an issue with obesity in this country!" she says. Speaking about food, though we're all going to be in Seattle for Thanksgiving in a few weeks. What are your plans for the holiday, Rylan?"

The question sounds casual, but there's something in her eyes that suggests she already knows what my answer will be.

"I usually just..." I adjust my water glass so it's in alignment with my plate. "We a game the night before Thanksgiving, so..."

"You'll join us for dinner," she says, so naturally it takes me a moment to process. "It's nothing fancy, just a family dinner at Jamie's apartment."

"Oh, I couldn't—"

"I insist." Her tone is gentle but brooks no argument. "No one should be alone on Thanksgiving."

The simple statement hits something raw in my chest. Jamie stills beside me.

"Mom's a great cook," he says with a fond smile. "Even if she does try to analyze everyone's food choices for hidden psychological meaning."

"Jamie!" But Alexandra's laughing. "I do no such thing. Though I did find that paper about food addiction and holidays fascinating."

"See?" Lola grins. "This is what we deal with. Please say you'll come to save us from the annual debate about whether turkey carving techniques reveal repressed childhood trauma."

A surprised laugh escapes me. When I glance at Jamie, his expression is so soft it makes my heart flip. Under the table, he slides his hand onto my knee and squeezes gently. My heart stutters in my chest.

"Wow, um, okay then." My throat is tight. "Thank you. I'd like that."

Her eyes flick between us, catching something in Jamie's tone or my expression, and she seamlessly shifts topics. But there's a knowing look in her eyes that makes me wonder just how much she sees.

The rest of dinner passes in a blur of academic discussions I can barely follow, hockey questions from Jamie's siblings that range from insightful to hilariously confused, and moments where Jamie's leg presses against mine under the table just long enough to make my breath catch.

Ben and Aleks fit seamlessly into the conversation, because of course they do: Ben's a doctor, and Aleks probably knows half the literature Jamie's dad keeps talking about. Meanwhile, I try not to look too obvious as I watch Jamie with his family. The way his whole face lights up when he laughs, and how he unconsciously leans toward his mom when she speaks. How even his most exasperated eye-rolls are full of obvious affection.

"More wine?" Alexandra offers, and I realize I've been quiet too long, lost in thought.

"No, thank you." I manage a smile. "Early flight tomorrow."

I catch Jamie watching me, something soft in his expression that makes my chest ache.

"Yeah," I say quietly.

And despite every instinct telling me to keep my distance, to protect myself, to stay safely behind my walls, I realize I'm looking forward to seeing this slightly eccentric family again.

"Jamie tells me you're from a small town in Ontario?" Alexandra asks as dessert arrives, some elaborate chocolate thing Jamie insisted we all try. "Near Toronto?"

"Yeah, it's a tiny little mining town outside of Sudbury," I say, hyperaware of Jamie watching me.

"Ah, a small-town boy!" Adam grins. "No wonder you and Jamie play so well together! Opposites attract and all that."

I nearly choke on the mousse.

"Adam," Jamie mutters, but he's fighting a smile.

"What? I just meant city boy versus country boy." An hour later, as we're getting ready to leave, Alexandra pulls me aside while Jamie argues with his siblings about splitting the bill.

Her hand on my arm is gentle. "You know, Jamie's seemed different lately when we talk. Happier."

My heart nearly stops. "I…"

"You don't have to say anything." Her smile reminds me so much of Jamie's. "Just know that you're welcome. Anytime."

It's such a simple offer, but it cracks something open in my chest I've kept sealed since losing half my family, leaving me alone with Dad's grief and anger. Since I learned that loving people means losing them.

I manage to nod. I look up to find Jamie watching us, his expression soft.

As we say goodbye, there are more hugs, more warmth, and more casual affection between this family that makes my throat tight. It's been so long since I've had a real family, I think I'd forgotten how nice it is to be around one.

"Thanksgiving," Alexandra reminds me firmly. "No excuses."

"Okay. Thank you." I agree with a small smile.

As we finally head for the door, I risk one last glance at Jamie. He's watching me, that soft expression back in his eyes. For just a moment, I let myself imagine having this. Family dinners, easy affection. Feeling like I belong.

I'm smiling as we step into the cool Boston night, the warmth of the Pirelli family's acceptance wrapped around me like a cozy blanket.