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That line alone made me tense for a second. It was one that had been twisted against me a time or two but she chuckled and nodded as she stirred something on the stove.
"Me either, it's nice to not have to pick through everything. Henry is that way," she rolled her eyes. "I swear it was hard the first few years to feed him. Now I just use onion powder instead of onions and he never knows the difference."
I relaxed. She was just a chatty, genuine person and I loved her already.
"So, you and your dad run the Hawks’ rink, right?"
"We do," I confirmed. "When I moved back he let me take over the management and business side of things a bit. We've organized a few fundraisers and just had a really great turnout for their final game of the playoffs."
She frowned and turned to the guys who'd filed in behind us.
"Sorry I missed that one," she said, blinking away tears for a second but he waved her off.
"It's fine, I know how it is," Brock said easily. She gave him a sad smile and nodded, before turning to me.
"I have epilepsy and those bright lights are hard to handle," she admitted. "But I know my boys are amazing out there."
"I'll have to call you next time with updates so you don't have to miss out."
Her eyes lit up at my offer and she pointed her spoon at Brock, not caring that it was dripping on the floor.
"She's a keeper. Make sure she has my number."
"I will, Mom," he promised as he took the stool next to me. Tate sat on the other side while Elias leaned against the island. A few minutes later, Henry walked in, scuffing his boots on the mat before kicking them into the pile resting beside it.
"This looks like trouble," he said as he looked around at the full kitchen.
"You smell like it," Darlene called out. "Go clean up for dinner. It'll be ready in ten minutes."
"Do you still have a room here?" I asked Brock.
"Nope," he said, clearly lying.
"He does, the last door on the left when you go up the stairs," Darlene said.
"Mom, no," he begged but she just laughed at her son.
"Just wait, I have stories. And pictures," she said as she waved us out. Tate and Elias stayed behind as Brock trailed behind me. I found the stairs and followed her lead before pushing open the door. Clearly, it hadn't been changed since high school. Hockey trophies and awards lined the hanging shelf over the bed. A plaid blue blanket was on the twin-sized mattress, the walls matching the navy from the pattern. There weren't any posters on the wall but there were newspaper clippings taped up from various NHL teams, outlining victories they had.
"I love this," I said, smiling as my fingers ran over the old trophies.
"No you don't," he said, shaking his head. "Mom needs to get rid of this stuff."
"It's part of you, I feel like I'm getting a glimpse of who you were," I explained. "What were you like in high school?"
He snorted. "I was a cocky little shit. We won some finals and thought we'd all get picked up by the NHL. We didn't. They turned me down and I ended up working on the farm and going to college. When I met the guys I made new plans."
"Did you always know you were bi?" I asked, sitting on his bed and watching as he looked at his room with fresh eyes.
"Yes," he admitted. "There was a guy on my team I had a crush on back then. He was an asshole, though, and I was smart enough to keep it to myself."
"Who did you date in high school, then?"
He grinned. "His sister. He fucking hated it."
"Did you even like her?"
"I did," he reassured me. "Here, she's probably in here somewhere. Mom is huge on taking pictures."
