Behind her, Penn is grinning like the devil himself, silently mouthing "ENCOURAGE IT!" while making exaggerated nodding motions. The man is literally the worst influence on his own children, and he's proud of it.
"I would never," Ramsey replied with such fake innocence that I almost choked on my own spit.
"I mean it," Reagan continues, her mom-voice in full effect. "No jumping on furniture, no teaching them to tackle each other, and absolutely no showing them how to pick locks again."
"That was one time," Ramsey protests. "And Penn's the one who taught them how to disable the baby monitor, not me."
Reagan had turned to glare at her husband, who quickly rearranged his face into an unconvincing look of angelic innocence.
"What? They're Blackwoods," Penn shrugs. "Better theylearn from me than figure it out themselves and end up in the ER."
We get my sister and brother out the door before looking at the two adorable identical little devils that stole my heart three years ago. Their dark curls are sticking up at all angles, and Riot's got a smear of peanut butter on his cheek before they both attack me to say hello.
I've got a three-year-old clinging to each leg as I try to walk across my sister's living room. It's like dragging two giggling anchors across the hardwood.
"Aunt Weese! Faster!" Ransom shrieks, his little hands gripping my thigh like he's riding a mechanical bull. His twin brother, Riot, is equally determined on my other leg, his dark curls bouncing with each exaggerated step I take.
Ramsey leans against the kitchen counter, watching us with that half-smile that makes my stomach do weird flips. He's dressed in black joggers and a faded SCU Hockey shirt that stretches tight across his chest. His hair is still damp from the shower he took right before we drove over here.
"Don't just stand there looking pretty," I call out to him. "Help me!"
"Nah," he says, crossing his arms. "This is way more entertaining."
I shoot him a death glare just as Riot decides to flop backward, still clinging to my leg, which nearly sends me toppling over. Ramsey's across the room in an instant, steadying me with one hand on my waist.
"Uncle Mini-Me!" Ransom lets go of my leg to launch himself at Ramsey, who catches him mid-air with his freearm, swinging him up onto his shoulders in one smooth motion.
Ramsey groans, rubbing his face with his free hand. "Little man, can we talk about this? Uncle Ramsey, Uncle Ram, Uncle R—anything but Uncle Mini-Me."
Riot and Ransom both start shaking their heads vigorously, tiny faces scrunched up in determination.
"Nope!" Ransom declares from his perch on Ramsey's shoulders. "Daddy said it's Uncle Mini-Me!"
"Uncle Mini-Me! Uncle Mini-Me!" Riot chants, abandoning my leg completely to wrap his arms around Ramsey's knees.
Before I can even blink, Ramsey's got Ransom flipped upside down, tickling his belly while the kid shrieks with laughter. Riot takes this as his cue to start climbing Ramsey like he's a human jungle gym, scrambling up his side and clinging to his back.
"You little demons," Ramsey growls playfully, somehow managing to keep both boys secure while they squirm and giggle.
My heart does this weird stuttering thing watching him with them. There's something so fucking perfect about seeing this giant of a man—the same guy who terrifies grown men on the ice—being so gentle with these tiny humans. His huge hands that can crush a hockey stick to splinters are carefully supporting Ransom's weight, making sure he doesn't fall while being tickle-tortured.
Fuck, it's doing things to me. Things I shouldn't be feeling about my best friend.
I've seen Ramsey knock a guy's teeth out for looking athim wrong, but here he is, letting two toddlers use him as a human playground. The contrast between terrifying hockey player and soft uncle is melting something inside me I didn't know could melt.
"Okay, okay!" Ransom shouts suddenly, wriggling to get down. "Let's go play racing!"
"Yeah, racing!" Riot echoes, already sliding down Ramsey's body to the floor.
Before either of us can respond, they're tugging Ramsey toward the back door, their little hands wrapped around his fingers.
Ramsey follows them, glancing back at me with that crooked smile that makes my stomach flip. "You coming, star?"
I nod, not trusting my voice right now. There's a lump in my throat I can't explain, watching him with the boys. Something about seeing him like this—patient, playful, protective—stirs up feelings I've been trying to bury for longer than I care to admit.
He looks at me a beat too long, like he's reading my mind, before turning to chase after the twins. I take a deep breath and follow them outside.
I follow them into the backyard and stop dead in my tracks. Holy shit. The entire yard has been transformed into what looks like a mini motocross track, complete with small dirt mounds, gentle curves, and?—
