Page 47 of Unsteady

“You almost knocked me over, nugget,” I scold, but a happy grin solidifies on my face as I lean down and ruffle Liam’s hair. He’s got half of a Darth Vader mask painted on his face which I know is thanks to Rora’s artistic abilities. Said artist is speaking lightly to Oliver as they walk into the cafe at a more normal pace. The black paint has smudged a bit now, some of it across his arm where he must’ve been rubbing at it earlier, but the kid adores Star Wars.

I firmly believe it started because Liam witnessed Oliver love the movies first, and was desperate to be just like his big brother. Now, I see the same thing happening with hockey.

“Sorry, sissy.” Liam sighs heavily, not bothering to rest for a moment before launching into the entire story of their very normal morning as if he was telling a daring adventure story. He ends the quick tale with a rushed, “Are you making pancakes?”

Before I can answer, he suddenly freezes, before shooting into a howl so loud I have to slip my hand over his mouth. He’s blubbering through my hand, pointing frantically towards Rhys.

Oliver joins my side, already quite tall, just about equal to me at twelve-years-old. He nods lightly, hefting his bag further on his shoulder.

“Hey, killer.” I nod, letting go of Liam’s mouth but keeping a firm grip on his shoulder. “Was he good today?”

Liam is still nearly shouting, ecstatic to see Rhys again. It’s a little unnerving.

Oliver nods. “Everything was fine. My practice ran over, but Rora kept him occupied.”

My head nods to what Oliver is saying, though he seems hesitant for a reason I plan to flush out later. Right now, I’m more focused on the worry that if I let go of Liam, he will jump into Rhys’ lap.

“Sorry,” I offer quickly. “Liam, remember what we’ve talked about.”

“Rhys isn’t a stranger, right?”

Rhys laughs. “Right.”

“You’re not?” Bennett asks, a little tick of his mouth. “Since when?”

Despite the question being posed to his friend, my little brother decides to intervene again with a screeching, “Since he’s teaching me hockey. Rhys is the best hockey player, probably in the world.”

Bennett smiles lightly, “Humble, too.”

Rhys shakes his head, eyes flickering to Bennett, then to me, before settling back on Liam. There’s a new tenseness to him though, I notice. His shoulders are pinched, his smile tight, fake, wearing his mask once more. It bristles me as I realize that Liam’s infatuation with Rhys might be uncomfortable.

Grabbing Liam’s hand, I nod back towards the counter, the larger table right next to it open. “Wanna chill for a minute while I close out?”

“Sure.” Oliver shrugs. He takes Liam’s arm and pulls him along behind him. “Come on, Anakin, leave them alone.”

Liam’s lip furls, his head whipping back and forth between his brother and the table of hockey gods, like he can’t decide exactly what to fight for. What ends up spilling from his lips is, “I’m not in my Jedi robes, Oliver. I’m Darth Vader.”

I turn to Rora and give her a thankful arm squeeze. “It’ll only take a minute for me to close out and change over everything, do you mind? I’ll be fast.”

“They can sit with us if you need,” Rhys says, standing before I can disagree and dragging Liam’s chair—with him still in it—back towards their too-small table. Liam squeals a laugh, eyes shining as he looks at Rhys’ upside down profile.

Rhys looks up at me, still smiling. “We’re friends, yeah?”

I want to stop them, to argue with Rhys but Rora stops me when she smiles and gives him a quick thanks, pulling us both away to change over.

“I don’t—”

“Relax.” She sighs, dragging the word out four extra syllables. Her hands squeeze my shoulders as she forces me around the counter corner, smacking my ass to send me to the breakroom.

“I’ll close your stuff out,” she says, pulling an apron off the little hook beneath the POS station and tying it before pulling up her hair of curls into a springy ponytail on top of her head. “You stop trying to control everything and let the nice hockey boys play with your brothers while you take a moment tonotbe their mom.”

She pats her fist down in a gentle rhythm on the top of the counter, not that she needed to since Luis is already gazing at her.

“Luis, can you cover the front for a few?”

“Sure,” he replies, a little too quickly, as he shrugs off his gloves and hair net. It’s wild that he accepts it, considering his family owns the entire cafe and the restaurants on both sides of us, but his dreamy-eyed look is all the answer I need.

We push into the small break room that doubles as a manager office and connects to the other backrooms of the restaurant to the right of us. Sitting down on one of the chairs, I blow a breath and look up where Rora perches onto the desktop.

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