Page 138 of Red Zone
We’re halfway through wrapping when I notice something strange.
It smells…good.
Like really good.
Like sugar, cinnamon, and maybe something burning.
I look up just in time to see Beck emerge from the kitchen, hands covered in flour, a sheepish grin on his face.
“Uh…anyone know how to work an oven timer?” he asks.
The entire table bursts out laughing.
Jaxon groans and tosses his roll of tape on the table. “What did you do now?”
“Nothing!” Beck protests. “I just thought, you know…cookies would be a nice touch. Like, for the kids. Or…us.” He holds up his hands. “But the recipe’s got, like, steps and measurements and all kinds of witchcraft, man.”
I can’t help it—I start laughing too.
Jaxon stands up, shaking his head like he’s dealing with a toddler. “I swear, you’re hopeless.”
“Hey,” Beck says, following Jaxon back toward the kitchen. “Just wait till you taste ’em. You’ll see.”
From my seat at the table, I can hear them bickering in the kitchen. Jaxon telling Beck he used too much flour, Beck insisting that “more is better,” then the sound of pans clattering and the oven door squeaking open.
It’s ridiculous.
And yet…it’s perfect.
These guys aren’t just teammates. Not tonight. Tonight they’re brothers.
Even if we’re all a little broken.
Even if the family we were born into didn’t stick.
Somehow, here—with flour on the counters and pizza boxes stacked high and laughter filling the air—we found each other anyway.
Later, just after dark, the door opens again.
And there she is.
Lyla.
Her red hair is up in that messy bun she always wears, a camera bag slung across her body. She hesitates for a second in the doorway, like she wasn’t sure she’d be welcome, and then steps inside when she spots me.
“Coach asked me to grab some photos and clips for the athletic department,” she says by way of explanation, though her voice isn’t quite as sharp as usual.
I just nod, watching her as she pulls her camera out and starts moving through the room. She’s quiet, but the guys welcome her like she’s one of us. They pose, they laugh when she catches them making dumb faces, and even Jaxon hams it up for her lens.
And me?
I can’t stop watching her.
How she softens when one of the freshmen offers her a slice of pizza. How she crouches down to get the perfect shot of the gift piles. How she smiles—not that polite smile she wears for her dad, but a real one—when one of the guys thanks her for helping out.
Found family.
That’s what tonight feels like.
