Before she can hear the panic and jealousy in my voice.
“Let’s eat before the food gets cold.”
Eva looks at me, her eyes sharp. She sees the deflection for exactly what it is, but instead of her pushing me, her shoulders drop, and a knowing look crosses her face. She recognizes the boundary I’m putting in place.
“Okay,” she says softly. She doesn’t press. She simply picks up her glass and takes a sip of wine while I place some steak, veggies, and potatoes on her plate. “But if it’s overcooked, I’m holding you responsible.”
I let out a slow breath through my nose, the tension in my shoulders easing a fraction. “I promise it’s not overcooked.”
After we eat and the plates are cleared, Eva asks if she can take a shower after I insist on cleaning up the kitchen. When I finish, I settle in front of the fire and wait for her instead of joining her, like I really want to.
The easy, flirty baseline going into the weekend is gone, replaced by truth. This thing between us isn’t temporary. It’s getting real fast and deep enough that my silence feels more and more like a massive betrayal not only to my family, but to her.And I can’t keep her in the shadows of my life forever, just like she can’t keep me hidden forever.
And the guilt of lying to my family, especially to Ace, feels like slow-moving acid, eating through our bond, and I’m going to have to face my brother. Soon.
I’ll have to look him in the eye and tell him that the best thing he ever let walk away is now the only thing I can’t live without. Because if I don’t tell him, the weight of this secret is going to break us all.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ASTON
Eva’s beenbusy the past few days, and the silence of my own house feels like an enemy. But the chaos of Saint’s house is an entirely different brand of crazy.
I stand in the entryway of Saint and Presley’s home, a six-pack of craft IPAs dangling from my fingers like a toy. The air smells like roasted garlic, marinara, and has that high-energy hum of a house filled to the ceiling with family. And before I can even kick off my boots, a blur comes barreling around the corner, hitting me full force.
“Aston!”
I look down and smile at Saint’s nephew. “Hey, Remy. You getting bigger, or am I just getting older?” I ask him as I reach down with one hand, scooping him up by the waist and hoisting him over my shoulder like a sack of feed.
“I’m definitely bigger, but you’re also old!” He laughs.
“Leave him alone,” Saint’s voice booms from the kitchen.
We walk toward him, and I see him with a towel slung over his shoulder, his eyes crinkling with an easy warmth that has taken him over completely since he married Presley. He looksevery bit the veteran captain he is on the field, but right now, he’s at the mercy of his own household.
“Don’t break him before we eat, Rem.”
I set Remy down with a gentle thud and watch him run off toward the two other tiny pairs of feet, creating an earthquake. Saint and Presley are huddled together, surrounded by cutting boards, a massive bowl of fruit, and their laughter cuts through the high-pitched squeals of Remy and Rhyan, Saint’s niece, running circles around the kitchen island. I walk over to the refrigerator and set the six-pack inside before entering the family room.
Brody is splayed out on the oversize leather sofa, his long legs kicked over the armrest as he throws a foam football into the air, catching it lazily with one hand. Liam sits on the other end, a half-empty beer in front of him, laughing at something Alie is saying as she adjusts the hairband on their daughter’s head.
“Look who finally decided to join us,” Brody calls out, not even looking at me as he catches the ball again. “We thought you weren’t gonna show again. We were about to call for a welfare check.”
“Some of us take the game seriously, Vaughn.” I laugh as Presley walks into the room and leans over to give me a quick, warm hug.
“Don’t listen to him, Aston. He’s been here twenty minutes, and he’s already eaten half of the kids’ snacks,” Presley says, her eyes bright with the energy she always brings into a room. “You look tired. Sit down before you fall down.”
“I’m fine,” I sigh when I take a seat between Brody and Liam.
Presley is our team doctor and always on alert for injuries or changes in our movement. “Humor me and rest for a few then.”
For the next thirty minutes, I just watch everyone. I let the noise wash over me, and it reminds me of home. I watch Liam wipe a smear of something off Alie’s chin, the gesture so casual that neither of them pauses their conversation. Then I watchSaint direct Rhyan in setting the table, his scarred hands gentle on her shoulders.
It’s a beautiful picture of what life looks like when you stop fighting the world and let someone in. And the entire time, the weight of my own secret stays locked in the back of my throat like I swallowed fire.
Dinner is almost as chaotic as the preparation, but again, it reminds me of home, and I’m starting to feel a bit homesick.
“All right, everyone, out,” Presley announces as the dinner plates are stacked, her hands pushing Saint away from the sink. “The kids need to wash their hands, and Alie and I are getting the cobbler prepared. Go take your football talk to your new man cave before the sugar rush hits the kids.”
