They play for another half hour. By the time they finish, all three brothers are drenched in sweat and grinning like idiots. Hunter scores the final goal and Jett throws his stick down in mock outrage.
"Rematch next week," Jett demands. "I can't let Silas win."
"You'll lose again," Hunter says cheerfully. “He’s the best at hockey and we all know it.”
"Fuck off."
Silas skates over to where I'm sitting, breathing hard. "You cold?"
"A little."
He immediately strips off his outer shirt, leaving him in just a damp undershirt. He wraps the other one around my shoulders even though it's sweaty. "Better?"
I tip my face up to him, trying to suppress a grin. "You're disgusting."
"You like it."
He's not wrong. I do like it. The smell of him, being wrapped in another piece of clothing that's unmistakably his. I like the casual way he takes care of me without making it a big deal.
After they clean up, we pile into the corner booth of a greasy spoon diner I've never been to called Ria's Bluebird Café. The place has cracked vinyl seats, a U-shaped counter with worn barstools, and laminated menus sticky with decades of use. A waitress with gray hair and tired eyes callseveryonehonwithout discrimination. She shoos us toward a huge round booth at the back.
Hunter drapes an arm around Juliet's shoulders, as easy as breathing. She leans into him automatically, fitting against his side like she was designed for that exact space. Jett keeps ordering chocolate milkshakes just to irritate the waitress. She keeps shooting him dirty looks every time he asks for another.
Silas slides into the booth and I follow. He immediately presses against me, thigh to thigh, massive and warm and silent.
"So," Jett says, lifting his coffee mug. "You're really living with this grump? On purpose?"
"Temporarily," I say, then feel Silas tense beside me. "I think?"
"Temporarily?" Silas echoes. But his hand finds mine under the table and squeezes it. "Or maybe not."
My pulse jumps hard.
"Be nice to her," Hunter mutters around a mouthful of fries. "She's brave for putting up with you."
"Or completely insane," Jett adds, a teasing smirk on his lips. "There's really no in-between."
"Seriously, shut up." Juliet reaches across the table to swat Jett's arm. "Stop terrorizing her. They're sweet together."
"Sweet," Jett repeats like he's never heard the word before. He shakes his head in wonder. "Silas Huxley. Sweet. I never thought I'd live to see the day."
Silas glares at him with zero real heat. Jett just grins wider, completely unfazed.
The banter flows easy after that, comfortable in the way that only comes from years of knowing. They tease each other mercilessly and share stories I only half understandbecause I wasn't there for the context. Silas interrupts several times to explain inside jokes when I look confused.
And I realize, sitting there squished between Silas and Jett, that this is his circle. His brothers and the few people he chooses to let in. People who actually matter to him beyond hockey and obligations.
And he brought me into it without hesitation.
The weight of that sits heavy in my chest. It feels terrifying and wonderful in equal measure.
"You're quiet," Silas murmurs near my ear while Jett and Hunter argue about whose goal was more impressive.
"I’m just processing."
"Processing what?"
I look up at him. "This. All of this. It's a lot."
