Page 94 of Love, Literature, and the Linebacker

Kate keeps my hands clasped in hers for a second after the hug. “It’s good to finally have you here. Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready.”

The moment I cross the threshold, the scent of roasted chicken and herbs wraps around me. The house is elegant without feeling stiff. Family photos line the hallway: Dylan and Gemma missing front teeth, Kate kneeling behind them at a school fair, and one older picture where both parents still stand together. Holiday décor is already scattered throughout, subtle but intentional, like reminders that this place is always ready to gather people in.

“I just need to check on the chicken,” Kate says, heading toward the kitchen. “But first, there’s someone who’s been waiting all day to see you.”

Footsteps thunder down the stairs, and suddenly a girl with dark hair and bright blue eyes appears, all energy.

“Gemma!” Dylan laughs as she launches herself into his arms. “I thought you weren’t getting in until tomorrow!”

“I found an earlier flight. No way I was spending another night away when everyone was already here.” Then her attention snaps to me, and she grins. “And I wanted to meet you.”

“Hi,” I say, laughing as she pulls me into a hug that mirrors her mom’s warmth. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, we’re going to get along just fine,” Gemma declares. “I can already tell.”

Dylan watches us with visible relief.

I wonder if he realizes how obvious it is.

The way he keeps glancing between me and his sister, almost measuring whether this world will accept me.

Like he’s been carrying the responsibility of blending these pieces of his life together.

Family Dylan.

Football Dylan.

The quieter version he shares with me.

I offer him a reassuring smile.

I’m not here to test anything.

I’m here because I love him.

“Anyone who can handle my brother,” Gemma adds, “is already a hero in my book.”

Gemma’s easy humor makes everything feel less intimidating.

Maybe this trip won’t be as terrifying as I thought.

I smile again, genuinely this time, grateful for how effortlessly she’s putting me at ease. “I don’t know if I’d go that far yet.”

“You will,” Gemma says confidently as she gestures toward the kitchen table. “Give it time. Come on, let’s sit. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Dylan clears his throat.

“I’m talking too much, aren’t I?” Gemma asks. She hasn’t taken a breath since we met.

“A little,” Dylan says.

“I’m excited,” she tells me. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

The kitchen is warm and inviting, the kind of space that feels like it’s meant for lingering. Soft light spills across the counters, and there’s an easy hum to the room that makes me imagine long afternoons spent talking over tea, laughter drifting through open windows. Kate sets out a spread of appetizers—cheese, crackers, sliced fruit—while Gemma launches into a rapid-fire update on her holiday plans and how much she’s missed having family around.

I mostly listen, smiling as Dylan and Gemma banter back and forth, trading teasing remarks that only siblings who genuinely adore each other can get away with. He rolls his eyes at her more than once, but I can see it clearly—the affection, the pride, the comfort they share.

“So, Lucy,” Kate says gently as she brings the roast chicken to the table, “how are you holding up? I know meeting the family can feel a little overwhelming.”