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“Yeah you are, baby. But it’s cool. It’s gonna be fine.”
I was nervous as fuck.
Houston, Cullen, Ramsey, and Garrett were already at a table when we arrived. Unlike the last time when I’d busted in on their get-together, Tucker was at my side. We approached, and they all fist bumped and hugged him before upnodding me and making room for us at the table. Despite the casual ambience, I sat down feeling like I’d just stepped in front of a firing squad.
Garrett smirked. “Isn’t this cozy? Just a bunch of Rush guys and one Royal asshole hanging out.” Ramsey smacked him on the back of the head. “What? Just stating the obvious.”
“Houston’s a Royal, too,” I pointed out, refusing to get my hackles up.
“Can confirm he’s also an asshole,” Cullen said, earning a bird from Houston.
“Hey, everyone’s gonna play nice tonight, okay?” Tucker grabbed a pair of beers from the bucket the waitress delivered and passed one to me.
“You’re no fun,” Garrett groused.
I cracked my beer and set it aside. Time to broach the elephant in the room. “I should probably just offer a blanket apology for the last time we all met up. I was…not in the best headspace, and it was totally uncalled for.”
Houston clinked his beer to mine. “Been there, I get it.”
But Cullen cocked his head. “Patrick Whitt is apologizing?” He shot a pointed look at Tucker. “You got that magic peen or something?”
Tucker cracked up, but Ramsey looked horrified. “I better never hear the word ‘peen’ come out of your mouth again.”
“I can’t wait until we can get out of here and I can play with your peen,” Garrett faux-whispered dramatically before cracking up with delight.
“Swear to god, G.” Ramsey groaned.
“Oh yeah, there’ll be plenty of swearing when I’m handling your peen.”
“It’s always like this, pay no mind,” Tucker said to me sidelong, which I supposed meant my apology had been accepted. Maybe?
“Your touchdown in the second quarter was incredible,” I said to Garrett, trying to move away from peens, because Jesus. Though it was kinda reassuring that the Rush guys descended into dumb jokes as often as the Royals guys and I did when we hung out.
Garrett eyed me up and down. “You trying to butter me up now?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. Is it working?”
“No.”
Ramsey glanced over at Garrett and burst into laughter. “He’s lying. He’s a total praise slut.”
“Maybe you should keep it coming.” Garrett waggled his brows. “You see that interception I had against Seattle?”
“Not as impressive as today,” I replied.
“Shit.” Garrett scoffed, then paused and nodded. “Alright, you’re not wrong on that one.”
“We gonna keep Whitt in the hot seat all night here, or are y’all about done?” Tucker asked as he draped an arm around my shoulder.
“We’re done,” Ramsey said, twining his hand with Garrett’s below the table just as Garrett opened his mouth to speak. He clamped it shut as Ramsey studied me. He had a piercing gaze and an air of authority about him I’d always admired. “Tucker’s family to us, so we’re a little protective.”
“He’s family to me, too,” I confessed. “Probably more than my own.”
Tucker pressed a brief kiss along my jaw, and Cullen reached for another beer, condensation dripping on the table as he waved the bottom of it at us. “Great. Can we proceed with the drinking now that we’ve had this touching Lifetime movie moment? I’m trying to drown my sorrows, and you’re all fucking it up.”
* * *
“Toldyou there’d be no bodily harm,” Tucker said as we walked back to my car a couple of hours later, our arms draped loosely around each other. Not having to hide anymore was one of the nice things to come out of all of this, and I wasn’t taking it for granted. “At least not by them. Now, when we get to your place, there are no guarantees.”
