“Hi. Nice to meet you.” I greeted her with a warm hug. She looked like a mini-Walker, with the same dark eyes and stubborn tilt to her chin. As for her smile… yeah, pure Walker.
She turned to me once we’d all settled, her eyes twinkling. “So, Finn, you’re the guy who’s got my brother acting like a softpuppy instead of a raging defenseman. I gotta say, I didn’t think it was possible.”
I laughed. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should. He’s not easy, you know. All gruff and silent treatment, mood swings, and loyalty issues.”
“Yeah,” I said with a smirk. “And that’s just before breakfast.”
She snorted. “You’re good. You’ll need that quick wit to keep up with him.”
“I’m learning. Slowly.”
Her tone softened then, more sincere. “He’s been through a lot. And I’ve never seen him… like this. He looks at you like you’re the only person in the room.”
I felt my throat tighten. “He means everything to me.”
She nodded, reaching over to touch my arm. “Then, we’re good.”
With introductions done, we ordered drinks and food, and we laughed and joked through dinner. I watched as Harper’s gaze lingered on Connor. Her usual animated chatter slowed slightly, her smile softening whenever he spoke. Connor, too, seemed to sit a little straighter, glancing her way more often than he probably realized.
By the time our dinners arrived, they were both practically glowing. Harper laughed a little too loud at one of Connor’s jokes, and Connor kept asking questions about her job, looking genuinely interested in every answer. Walker caught my eye from across the table and smirked.
I nudged his knee under the table. “They’re either falling in love or plotting world domination,” I acknowledged.
“Could be both,” Walker replied, grin widening.
Dinner flowed easily, conversation bouncing between the four of us. Walker recounted one of Bob’s infamous locker room pranks, and Harper chimed in with a story about her gym mishaps that had Connor practically crying with laughter. Eachtime Harper spoke, Connor’s gaze softened. Each time Connor cracked a joke, Harper’s smile widened slightly more.
I felt a warm, steady feeling in my chest that I hadn’t expected. This wasn’t just dinner. This wasn’t just a date. This felt like family.
Connor set down his fork and leaned back in his chair, giving Walker a curious look. “Hey, you hear about Lemanski?”
Walker frowned. “What about him?” I didn’t know who Lemanski was, but how Walker stiffened made me think this was a bad thing to discuss. Or a good thing? Who knew?
Connor leaned forward. “Something about a knee operation and the Vipers putting him out for an op?”
Walker blinked. “Seriously? You know more than me then. Are you sure? He just came back from injury.”
Ah, so Lemanski was a New York Vipers player. Why did Walker look so weird right now, glancing at me and trying to smile? Shit. Was this an injury where maybe they’d want to call up Walker to replace him? My chest tightened.
Connor nodded. “The forums are churning hard. D-man down. Does that mean you’ll get called up?”
Fuck. I was right.
Walker laughed, but it sounded short and dry. “There are far better and more level-headed replacements than me to head to the Big Apple.” He reached for my hand under the table and squeezed it. “I’m not going anywhere.”
By the time dessert arrived, the tension in my chest had shifted. Not from nerves or anxiety but from the realization of how easily Walker had slipped into my life. Like he’d always been there… like he belonged.
And that’s what scared me most. Even as he smiled at me and pretended the news about this Lemanski guy hadn’t shocked him, I couldn’t help but wonder… what happens when New York calls him back?
SEVENTEEN
Walker
In the parkinglot after dinner with the sibs, we all decided to head to different places. Harper had hinted strongly that she and Connor would like to continue the evening at our apartment, and me being the best older brother ever, told her to rock that roll. I took Finn by the hand with a final wave and warning to always use protection because I wasn’t ready to be an uncle yet and led my man to my truck. Tiny flakes blew around us, crystals that danced about in the lights, making the cramped lot come alive.
“Kind of like a Disney movie,” I commented as I dug in my front pocket for my keys. “One of us should start singing about letting shit go.”
