Dex doesn't even look up from the grill. "You agreed to host."
"I agreed to something small."
Dex gestures broadly with a spatula. "This is small."
I stare across the yard.
Kids are running in circles.
Someone brought two coolers the size of a small car.
Colby and Bobby are arguing over music by the speakers.
Mason is setting up folding chairs like he's organizing a military operation.
And Daisy is currently sprinting across the grass with a hot dog in her mouth.
"This," I say slowly, "is not small."
Dex flips a burger. "Relax. It's a beautiful day."
He's not wrong.
The weather decided to cooperate for once. Warm enough that everyone ditched jackets. The sun is out. My backyard looks like a neighborhood block party that got hijacked by a professional hockey team.
Which is exactly what happened.
Dex pitched the idea earlier in the week.
Team hangout.
Families invited.
Warm weekend.
"You have the biggest yard," he told me.
And somehow that turned into this.
"You invited the entire roster," I mutter.
"Plus families," Dex says proudly.
"Of course you did."
Behind me the back door slides open.
Natalie steps outside carrying a bowl of chips.
My brain does that annoying thing again where it just stops for a second when I see her.
She's wearing jeans and a loose sweater, hair pulled back, already laughing at something Dex said.
Like she's been out here all afternoon instead of walking into a yard full of hockey idiots.
And somehow that makes this whole circus feel a lot more under control.
"More food," she announces.
