image
image
image

Chapter Thirty Two

image

The clatter of silverware stopped, and silence fell around the table. Romeo motioned for his brothers to continue eating. To show them what he wanted them to do, he dipped his spoon in the bowl and took a bite of what he suspected was supposed to be potato soup.

Except, there was no taste to the meal Timber had cooked. It was like eating cubes of raw potatoes floating in water.

He forced the mouthful down. A shiver rolled up his spine. Fuck, that was awful.

Brody shoved his bowl away from him. Romeo pointed toward the food, then at Timber, and held up his fist, threatening bodily harm if Brody refused to eat the soup. He wouldn't allow his brothers to hurt Timber's feelings. She was doing better than expected, trying to feed the whole family. It wasn't an easy chore. It took him years to get where his brothers stopped complaining about how he cooked.

"I can't do it, man," muttered Axel.

Turner got up from the table and walked to the kitchen sink. Romeo sprang from the chair and stepped to the side of Timber, blocking her view of Turner dumping out his soup.

"Take a break, doll." He patted her ass. "You've been on your feet all day."

"I'm fine."

He hooked her around the waist. "Come on. Let's sit in the living room."

He needed to get her away from his brothers. They were about to jump ship on dinner.

"We eat at the table. House rule. I want to eat before it gets cold." She frowned at him. "Why do you look like that?"

"Like what?" He flashed her a grin.

She shook her head. "You can't use your dimples on me. What's going on?"

Timber glanced at the others around the table and returned her attention to Romeo. "Is something wrong with the soup?"

He lifted his brows and laughed. "Nah—"

"Oh, God. It's bad, isn't it?" She reached for the bowl and dipped a spoon into the liquid.

He caught her wrist before she could bring the soup to her mouth. "We'll order pizza."

Her eyes welled up with unshed tears. His gut tightened. She'd tried her best. Nobody could blame her for the ruined meal. But, they were men. They needed to eat.

"Brody? Call Dominos." He never looked away from Timber.

"On it," said Brody.

Behind him, Sander whispered, "Make sure you get pepperoni."

He wanted to line up his brothers and shoot each one of them for making tonight uncomfortable for Timber. She'd poured over the recipe on her phone for the last three days and made a special trip to the store to get the right kind of potatoes. What they ate for dinner never mattered much to them as long as they had a full stomach. To Timber, it was a way for her to prove that she was worthy of being a part of the family.

An unnecessary task. He loved her. She was as much a part of the family as he was.

Chairs scraped against the hardwood floor. He held her wrist, afraid she'd bolt if he let go.

Once the room was clear, he pulled her to his chest. Her body quivered against him. He rubbed her back.

Though she never made a sound, she clung to him in despair as if her world had collapsed.

She refused to raise her head. He stood in the kitchen, rubbing her lower back and giving her time to calm down. It wasn't the end of the world.

"One time, years ago, Caleb brought home a used barbecue. He ripped it off the neighbors if I remember right." He chuckled at the memory. "He was about sixteen years old and thought he was old enough to take care of himself, so I put him on meal duty for the week."

Out of all of them, Caleb was the one who lacked any skills in the kitchen. When it was his night to cook, they usually ended up having burgers or chili dogs.

"Needless to say, he blew up the propane barbecue and fried all the hair off his arms and his eyebrows." Romeo snaked his hand underneath the back of Timber's hair and rubbed her neck. "Six months doesn't go by without someone bringing up that night and reminding Caleb of what he had done."

"He was sixteen years old, though," mumbled Timber.

Romeo grasped Timber's face, tilting her head to look into her eyes. He softened at the vulnerability staring back at him. To him, sixteen was the same as nineteen years old. Timber wasn't that much older than Caleb was then.

"Making fun of him had nothing to do with his age, doll." He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. "It has to do with being a family and making memories together. There are things that we've all done that will be talked about within these four walls that won't go beyond the Muel family."

She blinked an extra second. "No one's mad at me?"

He shook his head.

Relief swept over her, and she pressed her cheek into his hand. He kissed her forehead. "What do you say we go sit outside on the deck in the backyard until the pizza arrives?"

"I should do the dishes."

"Let the others chip in and do them. They couldn't even manage any of the soup. At least I got half my bowl down." He chuckled.

Timber elbowed him in the side. "Not funny."

One day, they'd laugh about the night she tried to make potato soup. Not now, but in the future, and she would be glad for tonight.