War (Boston Bolts Hockey #3)

15. Tyler

FIFTEEN

TYLER

“Grab the berries, mon chou.” I open the oven a crack and peek in. Every Christmas morning, my mom would make the same French toast casserole, and when it came out of the oven, she’d set the oversized baking dish on the table between us and hand me a fork. The two of us would sit like that and eat straight from the dish. Mom saved all year for gifts, but I couldn’t list more than a handful I received in the twelve years we had together. But this casserole? I remember the way each one tasted, the things we talked about, the laughs we shared. My mother made everything magical, and Christmas morning was no exception.

There were only two of us then. This morning, with five of us here, we can’t exactly eat out of the pan, so I pull a stack of plates from the cabinet.

If my mother were here, she would have figured it out, and the tradition would have continued. Then again, if my mother were here, so many things would probably be different. Me, for one.

“Bacon should be ready,” Bray calls from the living room. He’s got Scarlett on his hip, keeping her away from the Christmas tree and all the presents I stashed under it last night. The two of them are wearing matching pajamas. Josie and me too. The kid rolled his eyes when I gave them their early Christmas present before my family showed up last night, but he donned them without complaint, and if I had to guess by the way he keeps smiling at the girls, he doesn’t mind matching too much.

I open the door of the second oven, and sure enough, the bacon is crispy perfection. “Can you put Scar in her highchair and set the table?”

“I’ll get Scarlett’s milk,” Josie offers as she drops the container of berries onto the counter.

Meals are always a little chaotic, but the kids love helping out, and I want to encourage that, even if it means cleaning up extra messes. Usually Maria is here with us too. She’ll pour the milk into the sippy cup, then Josie will carry it to her sister and act like she did all the work.

Worried I’ll have a big mess on my hands if I let her pour herself, I pull the bacon out quickly and set it on the stovetop, then hustle to where she’s already holding the milk carton, her little arms straining. I get to her just as one hand slips and gently take it. “I’ve got it. Can you go entertain Scar before she starts throwing things?”

With an exaggerated nod, she wiggles her butt and makes a beeline for Scarlett.

“Alexa, play Bing Crosby Christmas tunes,” I say, recreating another one of my mother’s Christmas traditions.

When “Mele Kalikimaka” plays loudly through the speaker, Brayden eyes me from where he’s setting the table. I wink at him, and in response, he lowers his head and gives it a shake, his typical smirk the only indication that he’s enjoying himself.

“Hey, Bray,” I motion toward the kitchen, calling him closer. Before we sit down, I need to check in with him about what he saw this morning—a woman in my bed.

Brayden leans against the counter, staring at me. “What’s up?”

“About this morning.” I grip the back of my neck, trying to figure out what to say.

He shakes his shaggy hair. “It’s no big deal. You can do what you want. It’s your house.”

I glare at him. As much as I lament telling him the truth, I’m not sure how much I should share. But letting him believe it was a casual fuck isn’t going to fly either. I’ve never brought a woman around him. It’s been a long time since I’ve even considered spending the night with someone. I don’t like how he thinks that I’d do that so casually. But he’s too old to not question what Ava and I are doing when she arrived here last night with Xander. So I decide to give him a shortened and diluted version of the truth. “She needed a place to stay. You know that.”

He scrutinizes me, eyes narrowing, as if he’s thinking about the perfectly good pull-out couch in my office as well as the super comfortable one in the living room.

With a deep breath in, I give him more truths than I intended. “I’ve always liked Ava. I’d like it if you’d give her a chance. If she’s willing, she may become a more permanent fixture in this house.”

He lifts one shoulder and eyes me through his shaggy hair. “That will make Josie happy.”

I take a step closer and place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing. “I think she could make us all pretty happy if we’re open to it. I’m trying here, Bray. Really trying to give us a family.”

Brayden seems to relax beneath my grip. “You’re doing a good job.” He nods over to the table where the girls are giggling as Scarlett whips strawberries at Josie, who’s pretending to catch them in her mouth but missing every single one. That’s going to be fun to clean up. “They’re laughing. And honestly,” he shrugs again, “this is the nicest Christmas I’ve had since my dad died. So, if I haven’t said it lately, thanks.”

I pull Brayden against my chest and hug him. We don’t do this enough—clearly—because for a second, he freezes, but when I squeeze him tighter, he relaxes and hugs me back. Then he pulls away. “Okay, don’t get all emo on me.”

Laughing, I throw him a bone and act like the cocky hockey player he’s used to, pointing toward the scene before us. “I did good, didn’t I?”

The first thing I did when I came downstairs was plug the tree lights in and start a fire. It’s now crackling and keeping the oversized room warm while big white flakes flutter from the sky on the other side of the floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s one of my favorite things about this house—the view of the backyard filled with oversized trees and the lake. Reminds me of Canada.

The scene only gets better when the woman dressed in my long-sleeve Bolts shirt and sweats enters the room. The clothes hang from her tiny frame, and her wavy red hair falls loosely past her shoulders. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are bright as her mouth drops open.

“It’s like a Christmas dream,” she says in raspy wonder. With a hand to her mouth, she surveys each one of us. “You all look so perfectly Christmasy in your matching pj’s. I don’t fit in.”

It takes effort to remain where I am rather than stride over to her. “These pants came with a matching flannel shirt,” I tease. I went for a white long-sleeve T-shirt instead, knowing I’d overheat in the flannel top. “I could get it for you.”

With a light laugh I’ve never heard directed my way, she shakes her head. “I’m okay. Thank you, though.”

“Might give you more coverage than that T-shirt alone,” I call, turning around and closing my eyes to banish the image of her that threatens to haunt me. Damn, did she look good in nothing but my shirt last night. Fresh-faced and bare-legged, with a sassy attitude she reserves only for me.

I like that last part a bit too much.

Makes me want to push her buttons.

“Come sit next to me,” Josie calls from her spot beside Scarlett.

When I finally make it over to the table with Scarlett’s sippy cup, everyone is sitting, leaving one open spot, the place between Ava and Brayden. The instant the cup is in her hands, Scarlett pulls back, ready to throw it, but Josie grabs it before it can clatter to the floor.

“Come on, sissy. No milk on the floor.”

Heading back into the kitchen to grab the plate of bacon and the French toast casserole, I blow out a relieved breath. Looks like I won’t be mopping the floors just yet. Though after breakfast, I’ll have no choice in the matter.

“I can help,” Ava offers, following me. “Holy crap, this looks delicious.”

“Tastes even better,” I promise.

She arches a brow. “Did Maria make it? ”

With my head tossed back, I cough out a laugh. “Think I can’t cook?”

A saucy shoulder lift is all I get in response.

Huffing, I snag a fork from the drawer and scoop a bite of casserole, being sure to get a berry in the mix to give her the full effect. Fork held aloft, I stalk up to her. “Open.”

She sucks in a surprised breath. “You’re going to feed me?”

“ Open. ”

The woman loves to push back, but she gives up pretty easily this time. The moment she opens her mouth, though, I’m rethinking my actions. Shit. I should have known that the sight of her closing her lips around the fork would affect me. What I couldn’t have imagined, though, was the delicious moan that escapes her. At that simple sound, all the blood in my body rushes to the one place it has no business being right now.

“Holy crap,” she mutters. “That’s delicious.”

“Lucky for you, your future husband’s more than just a pretty face.” I toss the fork into the sink, then don oven mitts and pick up the casserole. With a nod, I gesture to the bacon. “Can you grab that?”

“So we’re still doing this?” she murmurs as she steps up beside me and picks up the platter.

“Serving breakfast?” I tease.

What she really wants to know is whether, in the light of day, I’ve changed my mind about her proposal. Up until thirty seconds ago? Fuck yeah, I was questioning it. Concerned we couldn’t really pull this off. Unsure that I could commit to spending the next however many years in this woman’s presence without pulling my hair out.

Then I heard her moan, and it changed everything.

“ War ,” she grits out.

It’s perplexing, the way her anger makes me giddy. I thrive on pissing her off. It’s probably something I should discuss with my therapist.

Later. Like after we’re married and he can’t talk me out of it. Because yeah, I want to marry Ava. I want to marry the shit out of her, and then I want to find out whether she’ll make that sound when it’s not her mouth doing the work. When my lips are doing the tasting instead.

“Yeah, wifey, we’re still doing it. You should probably call me by my real name now, though. Or husband. Your choice. Now, let’s serve breakfast before the minions revolt and start throwing things.”

Her laughter follows me to the table. It’s new to me. I’ve heard it directed at Lennox, Hannah, and Sara, but now that it’s because of me? I won’t lie; it’s a sound I wouldn’t mind hearing for the rest of my life.

When Josie notices the bite missing from the casserole, she picks up her fork, begging to try a scoop right from the dish too. As if it’s meant to be, I dive into the story of how my mom and I always ate it that way.

“Did your mom leave like mine did?” Josie asks as Ava takes the fork from her to dig out a bite.

Wordlessly, Ava hands it over, then drops a small serving onto her plate, cuts it up, and slides it onto Scarlett’s tray. Instantly, my little girl fists a bite, shoves it into her mouth, and squeals.

With a smile on my face, I turn my attention back to Josie. “No, my mom died when I was twelve. But I have lots of great memories of her like this one, and I can’t wait to share them all with you.”

The whole group grows somber in response to my sad confession, but the spell is broken a moment later when Scarlett throws a strawberry at Josie.

“What other traditions did you have?” Josie asks.

“The pajamas are another of my favorites. My mom and I always had matching pj’s, and she always gave them to me on Christmas Eve.”

Ava’s green eyes meet mine. “My mom did that too. It was always my favorite gift. My sister’s too.”

“My mom and I used to go outside and look for reindeer tracks after we opened presents,” Brayden offers.

My chest tightens at the sadness shining in his eyes. Fuck, I didn’t even consider how hard today would be for him since his mom hasn’t called. I really hope she makes an effort this afternoon. “We should do that today, then.”

That, thankfully, has his lips quirking. “Yeah, that’d be cool. ”

“Oh, I want to see a reindeer,” Josie hollers. The girl is always excited. “Ava saw one a few weeks ago. Do you think it’s the same one?”

With a tinkling laugh, Ava digs her fork into the casserole. Even though we all have plates, we eat straight from the casserole dish. One by one, we pull it close, then pass it along, though Josie and Brayden make sure to help Scarlett when she’s finished with what Ava set out for her and gesturing for more. It isn’t lost on me, the way they wordlessly continue my tradition. There were no words of apology or a sorry for your loss .

It’s a relief. My mom has been gone for decades, yet it never gets easier. Rather than doling out empty platitudes, my family is honoring her and our memories in a way that means more than I can explain.

“No, love bug, I don’t think it’s the same reindeer. That one lives on a farm in Bristol.” An uncertain smile curves her lips. “But if Tyler says it’s okay, maybe I can call his owner and see if we can come by his farm one day and meet the reindeer.”

I like the sound of my name on her lips, even if she says it in that soft voice, her eyes meeting mine as if she’s unsure how she feels about it. I’m guessing that’s how a lot of this will play out. Testing things. Toeing the line. Figuring out just how far each of us will go.

My lips curl at just the thought of it. Yeah, I’m going to like that a lot.

Josie practically climbs onto the table and grasps my outstretched arm, almost causing me to drop my fork into the baking dish. “Can we, Tyler? Pretty please? I’ll do the dishes and make all the beds.”

Laughing, I press a kiss to her head. “How about you eat your breakfast, and Ava and I will see what we can make happen?”

Josie launches herself off her chair, scurries around Ava, and wraps her arms around my middle. “You’re the bestest ever.”

I set my fork down and hold her to me, dropping my head against hers. “Merci, mon chou.” When I pull back, Ava is watching me, her green eyes full of curiosity and wonder, like she’s seeing the real me for the first time.

“You bought her a drum set?” Brayden groans as Scarlett bangs on the last of her gifts.

Already, I’m second-guessing the choice. It’s a plastic toy that lights up and makes premade sounds. It’s not like she’ll be making her own percussion sounds. Or maybe she will, since she’s already walloping on it. In theory, it’s great. It plays fun little tunes that aren’t too terribly loud. In practice, it does sound an awful lot like she’s beating on a drum.

“Couldn’t exactly give her a hockey stick.” I cock a brow at the pile of gear at Brayden’s feet. He unwrapped every piece of hockey equipment he could need this morning. Every piece. I know that because I went to the store myself and told them I wanted one of everything. When he started playing, he wouldn’t let me buy his equipment. He was adamant that I didn’t spend my money on him. Now that it’s Christmas, he can’t really complain, and he can see that I spoiled the girls just as much.

We’re all spread out on the floor. I stationed myself by the tree, making it easier to pass out presents. Josie is on Ava’s lap. No surprise there. Scarlett is beside them with her drum in front of her, and Brayden is on her left, his legs spread wide to keep Scarlett relatively contained.

“Let me grab a trash bag to clean up all this paper,” Ava offers.

Josie gets up off her lap, but when Ava pushes off the floor, I haul myself up on my knees and hold out a hand to stop her.

“Wait, we have one more present.”

“Is it mine?” Josie says, bouncing on her toes.

I laugh. The girl is surrounded by a mountain of gifts. She never acts spoiled, but she does like pretty things, so I’m not surprised by her question. “No, this one is for Ava.”

Ava’s eyes jump to mine. “I didn’t—” She shakes her head. “I didn’t get you anything.”

I smile. “No worries. This is a gift for both of us, really.”

Frowning, she scrutinizes me as I reach into my pocket and pinch the band of the gold ring I’ve kept locked up for far too long. When I pull it out and hold it between us, the emerald sparkles in the glow of the fire. Just like Ava’s eyes did last night.

As suspected, it’s the exact shade of green.

“Holy shit,” Brayden mutters.

“Oh my god,” Josie squeals.

Their comments sound distant. My focus is fixed firmly on the woman I’m about to ask to be my wife. I tilt my head, brow furrowed, silently saying are you sure about this?

Her eyes go wide in a way that says what the hell did you do?

That expression, the one of sheer panic and maybe a little fury—probably because I’m doing this in front of the kids—only eggs me on. There’s no resisting the opportunity to push her. This moment, if she allows it, is like magic, and that’s exactly what every one of us in this room needs. A little magic, as well as a bond, a tether to keep us together forever. To keep us safe from the outside world. Our family full of strays.

Maybe Brayden has a point.

“The last few months with these kids have been nothing short of magic. But until now, something has been missing. Someone has been missing. And in the last twelve hours, it’s become abundantly clear that you are that person. Honestly, this gift is probably more for me than it is for you because, you see, I’d like to extend the magic. And I’d really like to keep you.” With a long exhale, I survey each kid. “ We’d like to keep you. Right, guys?”

Josie nods so emphatically I worry she’ll give herself whiplash.

Scarlett is already nuzzling into Ava’s side.

Brayden just laughs. “Yeah, you’ll fit right in.”

With my heart in my throat, I meet those emerald eyes. It’s a dangerous thing because they really do break through every wall I’ve ever erected. “So what do you say? Will you be ours?”

Either she’s the most talented actress I’ve ever seen, or my spiel was even better than I hoped it could be. In slow motion, her eyes fill with tears. Then I swear her lip wobbles as she breaks into a wide grin, as if she’s truly surprised by the question. As if she didn’t concoct this scenario herself in this exact spot beside the fire last night.

Either way, I don’t expect her to lunge toward me and wrap her arms around my neck. The whispered thank you makes my chest tight, and when she lets go, the loss of contact hits harder than it should.

She sits back on her knees and holds out her hand, waiting for me to slide the ring onto her finger.

For a moment, the world falls away. The kids’ chatter, the sound of that damn drum toy, the crackle of the fire, none of it exists as I slide the ring that used to belong to my mother onto Ava’s finger, my hands trembling.

With her pinky, she grabs a hold of mine and stops the shaking. That little squeeze is all I need to center myself. “Where did you—” Her eyes meet mine, and she shakes her head, like she just knows it’s my mother’s ring. Her expression softens, and once again, I get the feeling that Ava and I are much more alike than I ever could have imagined. “It’s perfect.”

It hits me in this moment that I might really be in trouble. That remaining detached may be more difficult than I anticipated. Because I really want to kiss my future wife.

“Traditionally, the bride says yes,” I taunt.

With a roll of her eyes, she settles between the girls, and just like that, the rest of the world returns. She wraps an arm around Josie before looking back at me, her expression carefully neutral. “Of course I want to be your—all of yours. Yes. Yes, I’ll stay.”

The way she answers, making it about them, is exactly what I needed. Letting out a long breath, I look away from her. So what if this is the first meaningful gift I’ve received since that last Christmas with my mother? This is about the kids. What we’re doing is about them, not about me finding some long-forgotten happiness. Focusing instead on how Brayden lights up as he scrambles over to hug her and how tightly Josie is clinging to her, already yammering about moving Ava in and begging for her to sleep in her room and not mine, I push to a stand.

“Husbands and wives share a room,” I grumble as I walk past them, headed for the trash bag Ava originally offered to get .

“Jealous of a nine-year-old girl?” Ava mumbles, following me toward the kitchen.

Out of earshot of the kids, who are already distracted by their gifts, I whirl around and put my hands on my hips. “What are you doing?” My tone is harsher than I mean for it to be, but I could really use a moment away from her. Otherwise I’m at risk of letting wild ideas like happily ever afters and shit like that take over.

Guys like me don’t get happily ever afters. Arranged marriages? That’s more like it. A partnership? That’s something I can control.

Feelings, though? Not a chance.

“Doing the dishes, you grump.” She saunters over to the sink, where the empty casserole dish is soaking. “And I thought maybe we could have a moment away from the kids to discuss what just happened.”

Working to keep my breathing even and deep, I take her in, but I don’t respond.

She sighs. “Or not.” Standing in front of the sink, she rinses the dish and gets to work scrubbing it. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very hot and cold? One minute, you sweep me off my feet, and the next, you drive me nuts.”

She doesn’t look at me as she speaks, which is a relief. Feeling a little less out of sorts, I pull a trash bag from the box on the pantry floor. When I turn around and see her bent over the sink, her red hair cascading down her back, my name and number front and center, that relief evaporates.

In the space of two heartbeats, I’m pressed up against her, my chest flush with her back. “Remember that comment you made about my name on your back?”

She nods against my chest, still focused on the dishes. She hasn’t pulled away, but she’s trying hard to ignore me. To ignore this moment. Probably because I’ve once again gone from cold to hot. But I won’t be ignored. Not when there’s no escaping the pull between us.

I slip my arms around her waist and find her hands in the soapy water. When I lace our fingers, I relish the bite of the emerald digging into mine .

Lowering my mouth to her ear, I can’t help but let out a possessive growl. “Now it will be your last name too.”