Page 27 of Mr. Broody

“How do you wear these things all the time?” He walks out of the bathroom, and it strikes me how fast my time with him is going. One minute he can barely string sentences together and now look at him.

“When you’re an adult, you get used to it. Hey, I’m going to do your birthday invites this week. I think we should invite the whole class, so no one feels left out.”

“The girls too?” he groans.

“Yeah. You’re the new kid this year, so let’s make some friends.”

He blows out a breath and sits on the bench by the front door, his legs stretched out in front of him, slouched with his head against the wall.

“At your age, my best friend was a girl,” I tell him, hoping to get him to understand that boy or girl, a friend is a friend.

Then again, with the predicament I’m in now, maybe I should steer him to only be friends with boys.

“I knnnoooww.” He rolls his eyes at me as though he’s heard this a thousand times before.

I grab my jacket, not exactly happy I have to dress up too, put my keys and wallet in my pockets, then open the door, waiting for him to leave the condo. We step into the common stairway that leads to all the condos in the building, and sure enough, everyone else is walking down the concrete steps.

Rowan’s in slacks and a button-down, Kyleigh’s in a dress, Conor’s wearing a sweater and slacks, and good ol’ Tweetie is in jeans, casual shoes, and a white T-shirt with a jacket over the top.

“I better keep Kyleigh close tonight,” Rowan says, grabbing his girlfriend’s hand. “Bodhi, love the attire.”

“You look so handsome.” Kyleigh unwinds her hand, bending down to Bodhi’s level. “This tie is awesome.” She leans in. “You should dress all the Falcons on game day.”

Bodhi beams up at Kyleigh per usual.

“Sorry, Rowan.” Kyleigh takes Bodhi’s hand, and they walk down the steps together.

“Your kid is a cockblocker,” Rowan whispers, following them.

“I didn’t realize you were all coming,” I say as Conor and Tweetie pass me with pats on the back.

“It’s Bodhi’s big night. What else would we do?” Tweetie says over his shoulder, jogging down the steps.

“We can’t be late, let’s go.” Conor waves.

It’s nice to have them here. Sure, I have Reed, Victoria, the twins, but they’re a family of their own. Both of them work, and the boys are busy with hockey. So, this little found family with the guys is really good for both of us. And the fact they don’t have to go, they aren’t blood-related to us, but they’re coming because they want to, means a hell of a lot. Most of all, I’m happy that Bodhi has them.

I blow out a breath and watch them all leave through the security gate, my heart growing two fucking sizes like the damn Grinch on Christmas morning.

A half hour later—because of Friday night traffic in the city—we all file out of our Uber XL in front of Bodhi’s school. The parents and kids trickling in keep taking quick glances at us. I’m sure we look a little odd with four professional hockey players, one woman, and a kid. Jesus, I’m probably the center of the gossip mill. Maybe they all think we’re in some gang-bang situation with Kyleigh.

“So, Bodhi, what’s your teacher like?” Tweetie asks, and we all collectively groan.

The last thing I need is Tweetie fucking Bodhi’s teacher. “She’s pregnant and married,” I say, stopping his mind from going to places it needs to stay away from.

“She’s not pregnant,” Bodhi says, pushing his finger between his collar and the knot of his tie, tugging. “This thing is strangling me.”

I decide to ignore Bodhi’s continued whining about his clothes, so we don’t get into it right before his concert.

“Yes, she is.” I ruffle his hair as we climb the stairs to the school.

“No, she isn’t,” Bodhi says.

The rest of them snicker and laugh as they always do when we go at each other. I’m glad my kid doesn’t back down, but I need to keep reminding him I’m the parent.

“Stop lying.”

He’s not usually a liar, but he would’ve told me if she’d had the baby. That would have been the first thing he told me when he got home.

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