THESE DAYS, IF Anne didn’t have Luke working through lunch, he tended to come out to Amani’s with me and the rest of the guys on game days.

None of the boys seemed to mind having him around, and I knew it helped him to feel as if he were still part of a team. Yeah, he was settling into his new job nicely, and he was really enjoying it. But there’s something about being surrounded by a group of hockey players, especially when it’s what you’ve been doing your whole life, like he had. It was helping to ease his transition into his post-hockey life.

Not gonna lie—I liked having him with me. It was as good for me as it was for him, because I’d meant every bit of what I’d told him. He was my family now, and frankly, I’d been starved for family affection. He kept saying I’d get sick of his parents and his sisters and the way they were constantly interfering with us, but I doubted it. He didn’t really hate it, anyway. It was just second nature for him to gripe about them. He’d miss it like crazy if they suddenly stopped.

And I was proud as fuck of the way he was adjusting to his new normal, too.

It couldn’t be easy for him. Hell, I was worried about how I’d handle the transition to being a former pro hockey player, even though I still had (hopefully) a few years left before I made that change. But Luke had already become fully engaged in his new job, and he was even making himself invaluable to Anne.

With every on-ice situation that came up, he was in her ear, talking her through what was happening so she wouldn’t have to dig through a rule book to understand it.

When she’d needed an idea for a segment last week, he’d been quick to come up with something—he took the viewers into the trainers’ room after a practice so everyone could see how hard it is for the older guys to stay in game shape every day.

It might not be exciting to watch a bunch of hockey players in their late thirties being stretched and put into ice baths and all, but he made it into good viewing because he managed to bring out our personalities and the way we teased each other about who was the oldest and most broken. News flash: Soupy was definitely the player most likely to fall apart the next time a strong breeze blew his way. He was held together by gorilla glue and duct tape these days.

Koz was down at the other end of the table, at least, with Babs on one side of him and Jonny on the other. Not only that, but the guy had his nose buried in his phone. Probably for the best. If he was caught up in that, he couldn’t put his foot in his mouth and say something Koz-like that would make me want to rip out his throat.

The waiter brought out a bunch of dishes and spread them out across the center of the table—pastas, fresh salads, grilled chicken, seafood, beef, and almost everything else imaginable for a homestyle Italian place. Finally, Koz set down his phone, but it was only so he could stuff his face.

It didn’t matter how many times I’d eaten here over the years. My mouth still watered every time a pan of fresh lasagna landed right in front of me. The cheese was ooey-gooey melting over the top and crispy around the edges of the pan. Luke and I both reached for it at the same time, our hands bumping over the serving spoon.

He gave me a sheepish look.

I put a big portion on his plate before doing the same with my own. Not a problem for me that my man had excellent taste. It was one more way I could be sure we’d get along well for a long time to come. Compatibility in the kitchen was just as important in a relationship as compatibility in the bedroom.

I was just about to dig in when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

Not just my phone, either. Almost every guy sitting around the table reached for his phone.

Huh. Weird.

Luke gave me a questioning look as I took it out and swiped the screen to see what was going on.

It was a text message from Jim Sutter.

 

If any of you are with Blake Kozlow, tell him to delete the Tweet NOW and to get over to my office ASAP so we can do damage control.

 

Babs ripped Koz’s phone from his hands before any of the rest of us could react.

“The fuck are you doing?” Koz demanded.

But Babs had moved away from the table, and Jonny put a hand on Koz’s shoulder, keeping him in his seat.

I opened my Twitter app and went to Koz’s profile to see what the hell he’d done. Some random fan had tagged him in a Tweet about the Lennon incident in Tulsa, and instead of ignoring it, he’d done the unthinkable: Koz had replied, “Must be a retard to think it’s okay to hit chicks.”

“Seriously, dude?” Babs said when he finally looked up from Koz’s phone. “Do you never fucking think?”

Koz tried to shrug free from Jonny’s grip, but there wasn’t much point in trying. “I don’t—"

“You can’t use words like that,” 501 bit out, looking ready to deck the guy. Not that I could blame him.

“I wasn’t— I just—” The words came out in a splutter. “Christ, I didn’t fucking mean anything by it. Hell, if anyone’s a retard around here, it’s me.”

“Don’t we all know it,” Luke muttered beneath his breath, and I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from bursting into inappropriate laughter. Now wasn’t the time.

This was sure to be a PR nightmare for the team, and not one I had any intention of being involved in. I’d had my fill of those lately, and I might have to deal with even more than my fair share of them if and when Luke and I ever did decide to get married. Or adopt kids. Or do anything else that brought us back into the spotlight.

I caught his eye and grabbed my plate, angling my head toward a quieter table away from the rest of the team. “Wanna head over there?”

Relief flooded his face as he grabbed his plate and followed me. The rest of the guys were still caught up in giving Koz shit for being a dumb ass, so no one bothered to rag on us for slipping away.

My phone pinged again. In case it was something to do with the Koz situation, I checked it—because none of the other guys were likely to hear their phones over the shouting match that was going on.

It wasn’t from Jim Sutter or any of the coaches, though. In fact, it wasn’t from anyone to do with the team at all.

It was from my mother. I still had her cell phone number programmed in mine, not that I’d bothered to use it in ages.

My mouth went dry.

“What’s wrong?” Luke demanded.

“Wrong?” I repeated, feeling numb.

“You’re white as a sheet.”

But I couldn’t answer him. Not until I knew what she wanted.

Bracing myself against hurt because I refused to give either of my parents that kind of control over me, I swiped my thumb across the screen to read the message.

It was a long message, too.

 

I just thought you should know that your father is facing his biggest scandal yet with his company. Not only is his gay son flaunting his gayness by having a gay relationship that’s out in the open, but his wife is filing for divorce.

 

I left him last week. Nothing has been made public yet, but it will be as soon as the court documents are filed.

 

I know I wasn’t always there for you. I know you needed me to be. I know I haven’t been a good mother for you. I know I should have tried harder and that I failed because I didn’t.

 

But I’m tired of living under his thumb, and I hope we can find a way to make amends. I’d really like to meet Luke sometime. Only if you’re okay with that, of course. If you’re not, I’ll understand. It will hurt, but I’ll understand.

 

I’m sure there’ve been a lot of ways I’ve hurt you, maybe even ways I don’t realize, so I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight. I’m sure you may never be able to forgive me, and if that’s the case, I’ll just have to come to terms with that. But I had to try. I wish I’d tried sooner, but I am trying now.

 

Please consider allowing me to meet your boyfriend. I can come to you. We can do this on your terms, or not at all, if that’s what you decide.

 

I’m sorry, Cole. And please know that I love you. I’ve always loved you, even if I haven’t always done a very good job of showing that.

 

I had to blink back tears after reading it.

“What?” Luke reached across the table and took my hand—a surprisingly public gesture, but one that I needed. It helped me to pull myself together again.

“My mother wants to meet you,” I forced myself to say, somehow managing to avoid breaking down in the middle of the restaurant.

“Yeah?” He cocked up a brow. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I think it’s a good thing.” I hoped it was, at least.

“So are we going to do this?”

“I think so.”

“But not your father,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“No, not my father.”

“Okay.” And just like that, he’d accepted the news that had hit me over the head like a hammer.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay. If you want me to meet her, I’ll meet her. I can’t promise I won’t give her an earful about how shitty she’s been to you, though.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh from bubbling up inside me. “Pretty sure she’s fully aware of that, based on what she had to say.

He cocked up a brow in question, so I shoved my phone over so he could read it all. “Still not making any promises,” he said around a mouthful of lasagna after reading through the message in its entirety. “Maybe she’s just saying what she thinks you want to hear. Maybe she doesn’t really mean all of it.”

I shrugged. “Maybe not. But I think it’s worth finding out. Don’t you?”

He took another bite, chewed thoughtfully, and swallowed. “Yeah, I do. Because family’s important.”

He had that one right. Family was more important than a lot of people would ever understand. Until you didn’t have one, sometimes you took them for granted.

Luke turned his head on a swivel for a moment, but I had no clue what he was looking for. Then he wiped his mouth on his napkin and set the cloth on the table, standing up.

I gave him a questioning look, but he shook his head and went back to the main table. Koz and a few of the other guys had gone—no doubt Jonny and a couple of others had hauled him out of the restaurant and back up to the team’s practice facility so he could deal with the fallout of his poor decision-making. When Luke returned, it was with the lasagna pan in his hands.

“Excellent thinking,” I said.

“Priorities, right?”

Right. Good lasagna was definitely a priority. But not as much of one as being myself, no matter who was watching. And not as much as holding on to family. With Luke in my life, I had a feeling it would be a hell of a lot easier to keep my priorities straight.