“So your business is more important than my brother?” Roman is out for blood. He doesn’t like it when someone suggests he’s not the best hockey player in the universe.
“I’m trying to protect your brother, Martinez. I thought you of all people would get it.” He tips his head. “People in my industry can be cutthroat, and the press can be relentless. In a couple months you’ll all be wishing we’d kept it under wraps.”
I see the exhaustion pull at the corners of his eyes again. It’s the kind of tiredness that has nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with the crushing weight of the world firmly on his broad and biteable shoulders.
Roman steps toward him. “Is that a threat against my family?”
Artemis brushes his hair out of his face. “Easy, tiger. I’m simply saying that being with me comes with an element ofpublic life that I thought you’d want to keep him shielded from for as long as I could.”
That makes Roman step back in silence. After a long moment he huffs out a breath. “He’s not wrong.” His shoulders slump. “You see how the press barbecues me and the guys on the regular. Especially when they have nothing of substance to write, they just write shit for fun.” His voice dips, like he’s remembering the last time a reporter twisted his words into clickbait. He doesn’t have far back to go to recall it, it was two weeks ago. The media is relentless. The way he says the word fun makes me think there’s nothing fun about it.
“Artemis, you can definitely help in the kitchen.” Mom gestures for him to go with her but I stop him with a palm on his chest.
“Mom? I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you don’t want this man’s help in your kitchen.”
Mom still hasn’t forgiven me for the Great Fudge Debacle of 2016 where I ruined her favorite pot, and not even Mimi’s weird cleaning concoction could bring it back from the dead. Artemis, as his scrambled eggs is a testament to, has the exact same ‘sets off the smoke alarm’ energy.
Artemis groans. “He’s probably not wrong. But I’m sure there’s something we can find that won’t… require the local fire department to be called.”
Somewhere in the kitchen, a timer dings, and the smell of melting chocolate drifts into the room. Mom links her arm through Artemis’s and leads him into the kitchen. I guess we’re doing Christmas Eve together.
CHAPTER 38
Artemis
Casa Martinez smells like cinnamon, a wood burning fire, and something sweet frying in oil. It hit me the second I stepped past the threshold, and for one unbalanced, not-thought-out moment, I considered turning around and driving the seventeen hours back home. Not because it’s bad, because it’s…warm. Too warm.
And I don’t just mean the temperature, though I fucking love an open fire. I need to get one installed in the apartment.
In the kitchen, the twins look up from their icing duties, and I freeze like a deer on the highway in Iowa, while Christmas explodes around me. Even in the kitchen that opens into a dining room, there’s a giant tree covered in mismatched ornaments that should be ugly but somehow isn’t.
A kid’s construction paper angel hangs crooked on a branch near the top. It contrasts so well with the perfect tree and decorations in the living room. But in here, there are stockings that don’t match, strings of lights that flicker unevenly, and kid’s handmade decorations everywhere I look.
It’s chaos. Cozy, borderline feral, Christmas chaos. I fucking love it. My family home hasn’t felt like this in… well… maybe never. The edges of my vision are too bright, my chest tightens. Xavier squeezes my hand once on his way to the fridge—it’s quiet reassurance, exactly what I need—and the knot under my ribs loosens just enough to let oxygen slide into my lungs.
Valentina’s smile is a warm hurricane. “Okay, mijo.”
I nearly flinch at the term of affection. She’s talking to me.
“Tell me where your talents lie.”
“On the ice,” Xavier mutters from behind the fridge door.
“At least he didn’t say in the bedroom.” Tasha, one of the twins pokes her head up and gives me a grin. “Hola, Hermano. Bienvenido. We’ve been expecting you.” She winks.
Kique gives me a firm nod but doesn’t take his eyes off his frosting for very long. Xavier said he’ll be a freshman next year in Wisconsin. Tasha too. She got offers all over the country but is going where her hot-shot hockey player brother is going because, and Xavier quoted this to me,he needs adult supervision. And she’d miss him too much.
If that’s not a recipe for a brother’s teammate hockey romance novel I don’t know what is. She’s considering doing a creative writing degree, too, so she could literally write the book.
Valentina waves her hand at Xavier. “Ignore him. You’re not that bad, right?” She offers me an apron. “Right?”
I shrug, my face and neck heating. “My siblings seem to have gotten all the cooking skills. I usually order from apps. Abuela isn’t thrilled I haven’t taken up the family talent. Oh!”
Everyone looks at me.
“One thing I can make almost as good as my Abuela? Her tres leches cake. It’s famous in Iowa.”
“And out of Iowa.” Roman enters the kitchen with Sofia in tow, and somehow the fairly small kitchen still feels spacious. “Fucking love Guac ‘n Roll’s tres leches.”
