Page 87 of Hooked On Them

“Mateo’s the chef in the family.” Brett’s expression softened when he looked at his partner. “I can make casseroles, Nora tends to undercook everything, and Josie... well, she sets toasters on fire.”

“Hey!” Nora pointed her fork at him. “The chicken was pink only once!”

“Your grilling skills are as formidable as your casseroles.” Mateo’s eyes crinkled behind his glasses.

“Those are just my survival skills getting me through.” Brett smiled around his fork, affection in his words.

I seized the opening. “Knowing how to grill is definitely survival. My cousin once tried to grill indoors during a rainstorm. The fire department made him sign a pledge never to attempt cooking again.”

My timing was off, landing in that awkward space between funny and trying too hard. Brett’s expression remained unchanged. Mateo chuckled politely. Miles gave me a sympathetic glance.

Dominic, surprisingly, was the one who picked up the thread. “My college roommate did something similar with a George Foreman grill. We had to evacuate the entire dorm at three in the morning.” He shook his head, a small smile playing at his lips. “The drunk asshole was trying to make paninis with no bread.”

I gave him a grateful nod for the assist; otherwise the table would have gone silent, and I would have found a way to make an even bigger fool of myself.

Nora laughed, the sound loosening something in my chest. I watched as Dominic’s hand disappeared beneath the table, likely finding Nora’s. Her smile widened slightly, a private moment in full view.

A month ago, seeing them together might have triggered the sharp edge of jealousy I’d been fighting since learning I wasn’t Gummy Bear’s father. But now? Watching Dominic slowly open up and seeing how he looked at Nora? It felt right.

We were figuring this out, this strange group we were forming around Nora and her baby. Their baby. Our baby? The boundaries were blurring in ways that terrified and exhilarated me.

“So, Carter,” Brett’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Nora tells me you’re a photographer when you’re not buying hockey teams.”

The “buying hockey teams” part had a distinct edge to it. I forced myself to meet his gaze directly, fighting the urge to hide behind my usual rapid-fire charm offensive.

“Photography’s my first love. It started as a hobby in college but turned into something more. I’m working on a part-time basis right now with the St. James Foundation.” I paused, realizing I was slipping into my networking voice. “I’m lucky I can pursue what I love.”

Brett studied me, his coach expression unreadable. “And the Titans? Just another hobby?”

There it was, the challenge beneath the question.Prove you’re not playing games with my daughter’s team. With her. With her heart.

I set my fork down carefully. “No, sir. Not a hobby. An investment in something I believe in.” I glanced at Nora. “In people I believe in.”

The table fell quiet. Miles and Dominic watched me, measuring my words. While the three of us had talked some, especially after I’d first bought into the team, we hadn’t discussed how this would play out. They were the two who already had a bond, and I was the outsider, which made this trip here with Nora even more vital.

Brett’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in the air between us. Mateo reached over, his hand briefly touching Brett’s forearm.

The conversation gradually eased after that, flowing more naturally as we moved from photography to hockey to stories from Nora’s childhood. Every now and then, I’d catch Brett watching me, but he was doing that with all of us.

When dinner finished, I stood quickly. “I’ve got the dishes.”

“I’ll help,” Nora offered, but Mateo waved her back down.

“You sit and relax. Carter can help me.” He stacked plates. “Brett, why don’t you show Miles and Dominic your memorabilia room? I think they’d appreciate it.”

Brett hesitated, then nodded. “Sure.”

I followed Mateo into the kitchen, arms loaded with dishes, feeling like I’d been granted temporary reprieve from the firing squad.

“You don’t have to put on a show for us,” Mateo said as soon as we were alone, his voice gentle as he rinsed plates.

I busied myself loading the dishwasher, grateful for something to do with my hands. “I want him to see that I’m serious. About the team. About...” I gestured vaguely toward the patio where Nora was sitting alone, typing on her phone.

“About Nora,” Mateo finished simply.

“Yeah.” I stared at the plate in my hands. “Is this whole situation unrealistic long term?”

Mateo considered this, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Life rarely fits into neat boxes, Carter. Brett knows that better than most.” He leaned against the counter. “He’s protective of Nora because he couldn’t protect his wife, and by extension feels like he didn’t protect his daughters. It’s not about you personally.”

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