by Alley Ciz
A knowing smile spreads across E’s face. I take this as a good sign. “Ahh…now it makes sense.”
“Short Stack!” Trav’s voice rings out—must have been a FaceTime call.
“What’s up, brother-husband?” Kay says, and I can’t help but laugh.
“Brother-husband?” Ben questions.
I explain how the guys always invade my calls with Kay when we’re away, as well as a few of our funnier antics. I can’t quite get a read on E’s expression, but it seems positive, so I’ll take it.
“Nah, we don’t need your worse half. Just let him know we called,” Trav says as I place the salad bowl on the table. Kay sees me and winks.
E and B aren’t far behind, each carrying a large pan of delicious-smelling lasagna. My stomach growls at the aroma, and I can’t wait to dig in.
E claps his hands. “Let’s eat!”
#Chapter57
This has been one of the best yet strangest meals on record.
I don’t think any of us—outside of Mase—were surprised B showed up. He and E have been best buds since E’s first training camp, and honestly, I think part of the reason I like Trav so much is because his relationship with Mase reminds me so much of the famous B-and-E duo.
“How excited are you to see JT this week?” Bette asks.
“So, so excited.” We talk every day and video-chat more often than we don’t, but it’s not the same as being in the same space together.
“Can’t wait to see if he passes.” E jerks a chin at Mase.
“Huh?” Mason asks around a mouthful of lasagna.
“The meet-the-family test, bruh.” B sounds a tad too gleeful.
Under the table, I squeeze Mason’s thigh when he chokes.
“If it makes you feel any better, you’re passing this one with flying colors.” Bette tips her beer at Mase.
“Hell yeah, dude. You didn’t deck me for everything when I showed up, and I’d say that more than passes. Besides”—B points his fork at E—“you handled me way more calmly than this fool does most of the time.”
For as long as we’ve known B, he’s joked about us running off and getting married, doing it for the sole purpose of getting under E’s skin.
“You’re begging for me to kick your ass out,” E warns, but it’s not a real threat.
“You got jokes, Dennings, but we all know you love me.”
“So it’s a genetic thing, huh?” Mase whispers against my ear when E rolls his eyes at B. I shiver at his lips brushing the sensitive skin.
Gurl, I’m all for you climbing him like the tree he is and having ALL the wild monkey sex you like, but maybe you shouldn’t be thinking about it with E sitting across the table from us. Just saying.
“Anyway…” E turns to me, choosing to ignore B. “I told JT I got his ticket all set for his flight back to school next Sunday night.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
E gives me a Don’t be dumb, it’s what family does look, so I let it go. E doesn’t throw his money around, but he always takes care of his own, which in this case includes the Taylors.
“So…” E pushes his plate to the side, resting his elbows on the table and looking every bit super-big-brother as he stares at me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end at the shift in his demeanor.
“So…”
“I spoke with Jordan the other day.”
Those hairs that were raised are now Riverdancing at the mention of his publicist. I like the hockey queen PR dynamo—we’re even loosely connected to her through Lyle—but if E is bringing her up right now, it means I was the topic of conversation.
“And?” I ask, needing to know.
“Before you start, I want to preface it by saying I was the one who called her.”
Yeah, that doesn’t surprise me in the least.
“Oh-kay…”
“Don’t look at me like that, Squirt.” His voice hardens. “I’ve noticed all the attention on you since the two of you”—he bounces a finger between Mase and me—“started dating.”
Beside me, every one of Mason’s muscles lock up.
“Your plan has worked so far, but I wanted to have something in place for if it fails.”
I’ve avoided the issue as much as humanly possible. For the last year, I’ve lived with that exact fear. We’ve worked so hard—with Jordan and other professionals—to bury the posts and articles so they don’t show up on the first pages of search results, but E is right. It only takes one person and all the things I wish I could forget could be splashed all over the internet—again.
“Can we please talk about anything else?” Before I crawl under the table to hide from reality.
“Kay.” I know he’s serious when he doesn’t call me Squirt.
I know he worries, and what’s worse is a part of him blames himself for what happened to me. It’s not true. The only ones to blame are them. He’s always done everything possible to protect me. I can’t fight with him on trying to do exactly that.
They’re all joking about Mase passing “the test”, but what he doesn’t realize and can’t without me giving him all the gritty details I withheld is they already approve. If they didn’t, my family would be trying to talk me out of being with him to keep the threat of my exposure to a minimum, not discussing ways to make it work.
“I know, E.” I stretch an arm across the table for his hand. “Make all the contingency plans you want. I promise I won’t fight you. But, please…for now can we forget about trolls on the internet and just enjoy the next twenty-four hours?”
“Fine.” The look he gives me tells me this conversation is far from over. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I have something.” Mase speaks up, and if I didn’t already love him, I might have fallen right there.
“Ooo.” Now B is the one resting his elbows on the table. Miss Manners would so not approve of us. “Go ahead. We’re listening.”
“Is getting my own funny shirt a sign that I’ve been fully accepted into the tribe?” Mase points to E’s My sister is flyer than yours shirt.
“Mase has a thing for my t-shirt collection,” I clarify with a shrug.
“Careful.” E plucks at his shirt. “That’s a can of worms you might not want to open.”
“Especially if she’s the one picking,” B adds.
“I’ll remember that when I do my Christmas shopping this year,” I threaten.
B toasts me with his beer bottle.
“Don’t worry, babe.” I snuggle into Mason’s side. “I already have some ideas for you.”
He gives me a kiss and starts to twirl the ends of my hair. “More colors again?”
“Bette added them last night.”
“Well I like it, Skittles. Gotta keep the rainbow fresh.”
Bette plays with her fingers the way she does whenever she really wants to cut someone’s hair. I decide to give her the opening she craves.
“It’s nice not having to worry about where to get my next haircut. Bette gets twitchy if I don’t let her do something to it whenever I see her.”
“Like cutting hair at a tailgate?” He mentions G’s parking-lot barbershop from when we went to the Crabs game a few weeks ago.
“Yup.” I reach up and lift his hat off his head. “You know…” I finger his shaggy espresso locks. “You’re kinda due for a cut. She could always hook you up with something cool, you know? Make G jealous.”
Bette is practically bouncing in her seat at the possibility.
“Sure. I’m down for something shaved into the sides.”
“And that right there just solidified your place in this family, at least according to my wife.” E leans back, finishing off his beer.
I couldn’t have scripted a better introduction to my family myself.
#Chapter58
I reach out a hand for Kay and am met with cool sheets. Lifting my head, I squint my eyes against the sunlight breaking through around the edges of the shades, but I still don’t see any evidence of
her in the room. A quick glance toward the open door of the ensuite bathroom confirms she’s not there either.
Tossing the covers aside, I climb out of the bed to pull some clothes on, ready to find my missing girl.
Herkie is also absent from the room and is the only reason I can fathom Kay being awake before me. That dog has been glued to her side since we arrived, even crashed in bed with us. Kay had to move him when he tried to get in between us, and he eventually settled by our feet.
Aww, look who’s turning into Mr. Family Man. All you need now is the white picket fence, two point five kids, and a Volvo. My inner coach is a dick.
I walk down the hall, passing various pictures of Kay and her family, still having a hard time believing Kay’s brother is Eric Dennings and I’m in his house. I can’t help but chuckle at some of the shots E and Bette chose to decorate their walls with.
There are just as many candid shots as posed pictures on the walls, and the theme in all of them is happiness.
I head down the stairs leading directly into the living room, but still no sight of Skittles.
The scent of coffee draws my attention to the kitchen, the open concept floor plan making it easy for the smell to travel. I may not be as adverse to mornings as Kay, but coffee is never something I’ll turn down.
Wearing only a pair of blue plaid sleep pants, E is still an imposing presence as he leans against the counter with his ankles crossed while drinking his coffee.
“Coffee?” He points to the Keurig.
“Yeesss.” I drag the word out.
“Pick your poison.” He gestures to the carousel next to the machine.
I peruse the selection, spotting some of Kay’s favorites along the way, and settle for a French roast. Popping the pod into the machine, I wait for my coffee to brew, pulling out the cup when it’s done to drink it black and mirroring E’s stance against the island.
“You really did play a hell of a game yesterday. The way you and McQueen connect is something else,” E comments over the rim of his cup.
Eric Dennings is complimenting the way we play. *fist pump* Fuck yeah.
“We’ve been teammates since our Pop Warner days. Playing together is almost as easy as breathing.”
“It shows.”
Epic fist-pumping session about to happen. Shit, move over Jersey Shore GIFs—I’m about to set the new standard.
Trav would lose his shit if he heard about E complimenting his game, but it isn’t my place to tell him about Kay’s brother.
But will it stay a secret for much longer?
I didn’t say anything yesterday when they discussed the posts on the UofJ411 Instagram, but there was no way to miss the genuine concern about it.
“Any time you want to talk football or the game, I’m here,” E says, shocking me.
“I appreciate the offer. Really…more than you could know, but for now I think we should shy away from anything football-related. I don’t want Kay to be reminded of that douchemonkey she used to date.”
E’s brows rise in surprise, and I can see the respect for me grow in his eyes at my words.
“Besides, I’m coming for all your records when I go pro,” I add cockily.
“Bring it on, pretty boy.”
“Pretty boy, huh? Sorry, E, you’re not really my type.”
He scoffs in response.
I take a moment to drink my coffee, but still no Kay in sight. “Any idea where your sister is?”
“Yeah. She and Bette are down in the gym.” E rinses out his coffee mug and loads it into the dishwasher before tapping me on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you where it is. With B crashing the party last night, you never got the full tour.”
I fall into step and follow him out of the kitchen, through the living room, down a few steps and a long hallway. The sounds of Queen and laughter float down it as we walk toward a set of open double doors.
E leans against the doorjamb to the right so I take up the left with my shoulder as my anchor, arms and ankles crossed, taking in the room in front of me.
E’s home gym is a thing of beauty. The two-thousand-square-foot rectangular space is equipped like a gym rat’s dream. The entire outside wall is made up of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lush back yard and water, and floor-length mirrors line the opposite wall.
In the middle of the room on brightly colored yoga mats are Kay and Bette. I can’t make out what they are saying over the music, but their laughter is unmistakable.
“You two have got to be the worst yogis ever,” E calls out to the girls.
They both look up from their bent-over positions and laugh harder.
In downward dog, wearing a black sports bra with crisscrossing straps playing peekaboo with her cleavage and black leggings that open below the knee and wrap around her calves like a ribbon, Kay becomes my focus, my vision going blurry along the edges.
The stretchy material hugs her body, displaying the strong muscles of her legs and the firm bubble of her ass in all their glory. I could look at her all day and never get bored.
“Babe, you know you can’t do yoga in front of me. That’s how you end up pregnant,” E says to his wife.
Kay whips her head around so fast she falls to the mat. “I’m gonna be an aunt?” she screeches.
“Shit.” E’s curse is only loud enough for me to hear. “No, Squirt. That didn’t come out how I meant it.”
“Damn.” The smile on Kay’s face falls. “Well can you get on that already please? I personally think it’s time to pull the goalie.”
“A hockey metaphor? I would think the queen of funny shirts would have a football one at the ready,” E teases.
“I’ll work on it, and you work on knocking up your wife.”
“Geez, I thought you didn’t like talking about my sex life.”
“I don’t. I am, however, all about being an aunt. Just saying.” She pops a shoulder before standing up and bouncing over in my direction to give me a kiss.
I pull her into me, looping my arms around her hips, resting my hands on the top curve of her delectable ass.
“Hey, Caveman,” she says against my lips.
“Morning, Skittles.” I force myself to keep our kiss brief. I don’t need E wanting to kick my ass or anything. “Never thought I’d see the day you woke up before me.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t get used to it, though.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” I return her playful smirk.
“Come on, lovebirds.” E walks out of the gym. “Let’s eat before you have to get on the road.”
“I fully approve of your workout apparel.” I reach down and palm her ass. I might have a slight obsession with it. “I think you should dress like this all the time.”
“Perv.”
“You know you love me.”
“That I do.”
After spending almost twenty-one years actively avoiding anything having to do with feelings, I’m still trying to get used to the warmth I feel in my chest whenever she tells me she loves me.
When breakfast is over, Kay and I bring our bags down and drop them next to the couch. We each pull on our U of J football hoodies, preparing to leave, and I place my ball cap on my head, adjusting the bill behind me.
“No, no, no, no, no.” Bette walks over to me.
“What?” I ask, having no idea what I did wrong.
She reaches up and removes my hat from my head. “You are not covering up my new masterpiece with this thing.” She tosses my hat to Kay.
“Sorry?”
“As you should be. Now sit your ass down and let me style it then you can be on your way.”
I do as I’m told. After teasing and tugging the short strands how she wants them, she pats me on the shoulder, declaring me good to go.
Deciding she did enough driving this weekend, Kay hands me her keys and hops into the passenger seat of Pinky after we say our goodbyes. I can’t say I mind this arrangement when she spends most of the drive tracing her fingers along t
he new carvings shaved into the side of my head.
I don’t care what my inner coach has to say—I sure as hell could get used to this.
#Chapter59
“Son of a bitch.” Mason’s voice booms over Pinky’s Bluetooth. “This is all your fault, you know.”
I laugh at the accusation. “How’s that, Caveman?”
Sounds of male voices issuing more curses and trash talk come through the speakers.
“If you were going to be home tonight, I wouldn’t be here getting my ass kicked in Madden,” he complains.
It’s true, most nights—especially on days when we don’t have class together—Mase and I hang out and sometimes study, but tonight I’m headed to The Huntington near campus where the University of Kentucky’s basketball and cheerleading teams are staying. It’s been over two months since I’ve seen JT in person, and I know Mase understands; he just doesn’t necessarily like it.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine. Plus, I made sure to come find you before you had to watch film.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, but you’re much more fun to hang out with than these assholes.”
I can hear Trav, Alex, Noah, and Kev slinging barbs at him in the background.
“Fuck you, Nova.”
“You’re lucky we still let you hang out with us.”
“Yeah, spending all your time with your girlfriend.”
“Totally pussy-whipped.”
I roll my eyes. I swear I doubt they’ll ever grow up.
“You’re just jealous you’re not getting laid on the reg. You jockholes have seen my girl—of course I’d rather hang out with her. She’s much better to look at than you douchebags,” Mase throws right back, not bothered at all by being called pussy-whipped.
“I smell better too, I’m sure,” I toss out.
“Hell yeah you do, babe.”
I turn into the parking lot of The Huntington and find a space close to the front doors. Time to wrap up my call.
“All right, I’m here.”
“Okay, have fun, baby. See you in class.” There’s another murmur of voices before Mase comes back on the line. “G says if you see his brother, give him a smack upside the head for him.”