Page 37 of Locke

I glance at Livia, wondering if her nickname bothers her.On the contrary, she stares at her mom with unbridled fondness.

I extend my hand.“Mrs.Cross.Thank you for having me.”

She takes my hand in both of hers briefly.“Catherine.None of that Mrs.Cross business.”She steps back to let us in.“Richard is in the kitchen pretending he’s not checking on the turkey every five minutes.”

“I heard that,” her dad says from inside.

The interior of the house is well lived in.Bookshelves that have too many books, framed photographs covering most of the hallway wall, a well-worn rug in the entry.It smells like roasting turkey and sage and pumpkin pie, causing my mouth to water.

It’s not a house.It’s a home.

That thought is so foreign to me.

Livia’s father comes out of the kitchen in a flannel shirt with a dish towel over one shoulder.He’s a trim man, straight-backed, with close-cropped silver hair and eyes that are the same dark shade as Livia’s.He shakes my hand like his handshake is a statement.

“Locke.”He holds eye contact for exactly the right amount of time.“Glad you could make it.I’m Richard.”

“Thank you for having me, sir.”

“I just finished laying everything out,” Catherine says, motioning with her hands.“We’re actually ready to eat.”She links her arm through Livia’s and inclines her head.“I hope you didn’t get too stuffed at the team party.”

“I only ate a small amount because I was saving room for all your yumminess.”Livia glances back at me as I follow them to the dining room.“Did you save room, Locke?”

I smirk back at her.“Men have two stomachs.Didn’t you know that?”

Livia’s eyes sparkle and I can tell she’s delighted I joked around with her, and hell… not even sure why I did that.My intent in coming here was to be as taciturn and withdrawn as I normally am because I’m always myself, but the truth is, I’m a compartmentalized dude.I keep myself walled off and reserved around my teammates and authority figures.I don’t have close friends.But give me casual acquaintances and light social settings, I can hang with the best of them.

I lift my shoulder to her, mouthing a silentWhat?at her amusement.

The dining table is a sight to behold.Catherine points out where she wants everyone to sit, landing me directly across from Livia with her parents on either end.The table only seats six, but it is loaded with fancy china with a pattern around the rim, cloth napkins folded at each place, and lit candles at the center that throw warm light across everything.

A basket of rolls is already out, butter dish beside it.The food comes out of the kitchen in stages as we settle into our chairs—a roasted turkey that Richard carves at the table, something I’ve never seen done as we had staff who placed neat slices on our plates for us.There’s stuffing, green beans, sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top, and a gravy boat that Catherine sets down last before finally taking her own seat.

It’s the most food I’ve seen on a table that wasn’t a restaurant in longer than I can remember.Luckily, I really do still have room to do some damage.

“Help yourself,” Catherine says.She means it as an instruction rather than a pleasantry.

We pass dishes around and plates fill up.

Richard picks up his water glass.“So, you’re a defenseman… first line.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I played some hockey in college.”He sets the glass down.“Club level, nothing serious.But I always thought the defensive side of the game was underappreciated.Everyone wants to count the goals.”

“The goals don’t happen without the stops,” I say.

He points at me once across the table.“Exactly right.”

My eyes cut to Livia who is clearly enjoying the conversation.

“How’s the expansion roster coming together?”Richard continues.“That’s a unique challenge—building chemistry from scratch with men who all came from different systems.”

“It takes time,” I say neutrally.“Everyone has habits from their previous teams.Ways of reading plays, positioning instincts.You have to unlearn some of it and rebuild.”

“How long before it starts to feel like a unit rather than a collection of individuals?”

It’s a good question.A real one.