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“If I told you, you’d fake the stomach flu,” he teases. “But I promise it’s fun and you’ll be happy you did it.”
I know that Ryker takes my safety seriously and that he wouldn’t put me in a position to get hurt. I have to let go and just enjoy this adventure with him. The last thing I want to do is be the weak link in this family. Especially since I witnessed his five-foot-three-inch sister checking a player almost twice her size into the sideboards at yesterday's tournament. This family can smell fear and I’m going to have to grow a pair and rise to the occasion if I want to fit in—and I do want to fit in.
I’ve never wanted to fit in with a group of people more in my life.
After we both get ready and stop for coffee at the drive-thru coffee shop, we pull into Ryker’s mom’s house. There are several other cars here already, one of which is a minivan with a bumper sticker on the back that reads, “Don’t laugh… you’re next,” with a cartoon picture of a mini-van on it. I’m guessing that means Camden or Everett are here with their kids.
It’s an updated ranch-style home, with bricks that have me guessing the home was built in the 70s and perched on a large lot with a sloping backyard. This is where I’m guessing the deadly sledding competition will commence.
Though there isn’t much snow left to sled on, the temperatures are certainly cold enough for it. I’m happy to have dressed in several layers for the sledding event.
We both get out and head for the door, Ryker not bothering to knock as he opens the door and walks straight in.
“We’re here!” he calls out in the entry.
We both start slipping off our shoes in the entry, next to the dozens of other shoes that are also sitting right inside the door. Ryker takes off his jacket and hangs it on a hook and then takes mine and does the same.
The smell of baked goods, syrup, and something salty fills Ryker’s childhood home.
“In here!” I hear Annie’s voice call out, though I can’t see her.
The clinking of dishes and the hum of voices suggest that they’re all in the kitchen already.
I follow Ryker as we head through the entry, past a sunken living room to our right and a hallway to what I’m guessing would be bedrooms, to our left.
In front of us are a set of glass double doors where a large two-story play set is covered with the Haynes offspring having a blast. All of them are zipped into puffy down jackets.
The second we round the corner, we’re met with the whole Haynes adult crew.
The Haynes brothers are all standing around the island as Austin seems to be looking up an answer to a group question while Camden and Everett hover over his shoulder.
Sienna and Kali are chopping fresh fruit while Arie is making up a fresh batch of coffee in the U-shapes kitchen.
“Oh good. You two are here. Breakfast is just about ready,” she says.
The breakfast spread is already forming on the granite countertop. Two large egg and cheese quiches, a good sized glazed ham set on a wooden cutting board, and an entire waffle station with a tower of steaming hot waffles, mixed fruits, and syrups to go on top, all are laid out in a row like a buffet. Plates, silverware and napkins are already lined up at the front of the buffet. It's crazy how much food has to be made up to feed this family.
When Ryker said they couldn’t have an animal because his mom was too busy taking care of them… I’m starting to understand why. But the smile across her face as Ryker dips down and kisses her temple as he reaches for the knife for the ham, I can see that this isn’t work for her, it’s a labor of love that she does proudly.
I want this too. I want this life… with Ryker.
“Juliet, honey, go take a seat at the island and relax. Ryker, your brothers are useless. Can you slice the ham up for me?” she asks as she pours more pancake batter into a hot waffle maker.
“Sure, Mom,” Ryker says, sliding his hand down my back to tell me to head to the island.
He turns and heads for the knife butcher block but I can’t sit while everyone works.
“I’d like to help. What can I do?” I ask.
Annie looks over her shoulder and gives me a smile of appreciation.
“How about telling Harper and the kids that breakfast is ready? We’ll start dishing up as soon as Ryker gets the ham sliced. This is my last waffle to make.”
So that’s where Harper is.
I nod, happy to be of help.
I walk back around the kitchen and head for the glass double doors. I see Harper at the top of the two-story play set with an eye patch and sword.
