Page 82 of Lucky Strike

“He’ll be like me.” Tristan says. “That’s the goal, anyway. He might not want to compete, but he’ll be able to hold his own if anybody tries him.”

“Do you still compete?” I ask.

“Yeah, baby, what’d you think I did all day?”

“She probably doesn’t think about it too hard,” Lucky snarks. “Bria has more pressing things on her mind.”

“Like French toast,” Tristan says, going for a snickerdoodle.

“I love French toast,” Liam says, wobbling dangerously.

Plucking him off the stool before he takes a tumble, I narrow my eyes at Tristan. “What is it with you and breakfast food?” I feel like I’m in eleventh grade, and he’s ribbing me about an inside joke I’m not privy to.

“Ignore him,” Lucky says around a mouthful of cookie.

“You should take jiu jitsu,” Tristan says suddenly, elbowing me. “Self-defense is essential for everybody.”

“You’re probably right but …” I shudder, thinking about the amount of body contact required for jiu jitsu. “It’s just so touchy.”

“Touchy?” He chuckles. “That’s the point. If some sicko tries any inappropriate touching with you, you’ll know what to do.”

“I guess.”

“Definitely.” He nods, pushing off the counter as he jangles his keys. “Just think about it. You can always work with me if it’d make you more comfortable. I teach women all the time.”

“There are also female instructors where Liam practices,” Lucky says quickly. “If you’d prefer that.”

I bite my lip, amused at his obviousness. “I don’t know. If someone’s gotta be on top of me, might as well be someone I know, right, Tristan?”

Tristan smirks, winking at me like he knows exactly what I’m doing. “Right. I can come by and give you private lessons right upsta?—"

“Don’t you have a class to teach right now?” Lucky interrupts.

Laughing, Tristan pilfers another couple of cookies and opens the back door. “We doin’ Mass tomorrow, Lucky?”

“Yeah. See you in the morning.” Lucky turns to me. “Nola at the store?”

“She had a dentist’s appointment.” I duck into the pantry to put the baking supplies away.

“Oh, right. She did mention that.” Shelby pushes her nose against his leg and he bends, scratching behind her ears. “You coming to Mass tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Good. Liam won’t let me hear the end of it if you’re not there.”

“Mm.” I guess we’re back to using Liam as a proxy for our feelings.

“And my parents are flying in … they’d like us to stop by after.”

“How’s your dad?” I ask, wiping down the countertop.

“He’s okay. His birthday’s coming up, so Mom’s planning a big party for him. They want to celebrate before he begins his next round of treatment.”

Lucky’s words put an unexpected lump in my throat. Owen Kelly has always taken care of me like I was one of his. He danced with me every year at Edenbrook’s Father-Daughter Ball and gave me a spray of pink roses just like Maeve’s when we graduated high school. He bought me a new laptop for college and sent money every fall to help cover textbooks and supplies. There were countless other favors over the years, too, from both him and Sloane.

He’s so young, still. I just want him to be okay—he and Sloane deserve their happiness.

Lucky walks over, standing close enough that the side of his body touches mine. “Will you be there?” He places a printed invitation on the countertop.

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