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“My house, my rules. Now grab a seat,” she orders, giving me her best mom face.
Not wanting to argue with her, I do as she says and walk over to the nearest stool set around the kitchen island. I’m a little wary that I will end up breaking it, but if the stool can manage Jack and Caleb’s weight, it can handle mine.
I watch in silence as Erin places spaghetti into a bowl and then adds a few of those delicious meatballs I was salivating over. She places it in front of me with some freshly baked bread, and like a fiend, I go to town on it.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. You’re going to make some girl really happy one day if you can eat pussy the way you eat pasta,” Caleb singsongs as he struts into the kitchen.
“Hey, be nice,” Erin warns with a menacing finger directed at her brother-in-law.
“Thatisme being nice. That was a compliment.” He shrugs unapologetically before shoving his head into the fridge and grabbing two beers. He opens them both and places one in front of me while he keeps the other for himself.
“Sláinte,” he says before clinking his bottle with mine.
“Cheers,” I mumble between bites, not bothering to lift my head from my food.
“Jesus, Nate. When was the last time you ate?” he asks, his playful tone morphing to a worried one.
“I already asked him that. Apparently, nuked breakfast burritos are doing the job,” Erin replies, equally concerned.
“Dude, you do know there are apps nowadays where you can order food so someone can deliver it to your doorstep, right?”
“Can’t,” I grunt as I tear the bread apart to soak it with the sauce. “Can’t order food. Can’t go to the supermarket. I can’t even go out to eat. Too much heat on me as it is,” I add before popping a piece of bread into my mouth.
Caleb and Erin share a not-so-discreet pitying look with one another, making me feel ten inches tall.
“I’m fine. I don’t need your pity,” I grunt, averting my gaze from them.
“Well, that’s good to hear, ‘cause we don’t do pity in this family,” Jack utters behind me, announcing his arrival in the room.
“Ha, there is my loving husband! I was starting to think that you were going to leave me for Coach Byrne with the way you’ve been carrying on with him all day.” Erin grins as he walks straight up to her to envelop her in his arms.
“Sorry, love. Season starts in a couple of weeks, and Coach only has pucks and sticks on the brain, so he needed to bounce some ideas off me,” Jack explains, hugging her closer to him.
“Where is your better half anyway?” Caleb jokes as he sips his beer, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“I left him with Ma and the girls so I could sneak over to see my main girl,” Jack replies before giving all his attention to his wife. “Hi.”
“Hi to you, too,” Erin replies with stars in her eyes.
I lower my gaze from the couple’s intimate moment since the little moan Erin lets out as her husband kisses her stupid, ismore than enough of a visual for me as to how Erin got knocked up twice in as many years since they’ve been married.
“Hey, you two! Stop with that. We have a house full of guests. No one wants to see you trying for baby number three,” Caleb groans, grossed out with the public display of affection.
“Just say the word, love, and I’ll kick out every last motherfucker in here,” Jack retorts steadfastly.
“Give it another hour. Someone needs to eat all this food I’ve made.” Erin laughs as Jack slides behind her to wrap his arms around her waist.
“One hour.” Jack frowns, seeming displeased with having to wait that long.
“You two are disgusting, you know that?” Caleb grumbles, as he pulls a stool to sit next to me, but there’s no actual malice in his tone.
Caleb idolizes his big brother in every way.
And why wouldn’t he?
Jack Donovan is the best man I know. Not only does he have his shit together outside the rink, but he’s a killer inside of it, too. I’ve never met a person who can be a beast in a game and still find time to be a doting father and husband at home. He’s the real deal. They don’t make them like him anymore, that’s for darn sure.
“So, where’s your date?” Caleb asks, nudging his elbow to my side, trying to move the conversation back to me.
