Come to Me Softly (Closer to You #2)(33)
Author: A.L. Jackson

Aly waved her knife. “Yeah, I’m going to wound you if you don’t leave my mom alone.” It was all tease and affection, the two of them always at each other’s throats in the moments they weren’t having the other’s back.

Aly smiled at me, all cute and sly, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Because it’d always been like this here. Casual, easy, safe.

Somehow both frenzied and fluid, Aly and Karen moved about the kitchen, as if they were enjoying every second of creating this meal together.

“Hey, Mom,” Christopher called, “looks like you have a little issue over there. Not that I’m surprised or anything.” He laughed as Karen flew around from what she was whisking on the bar to find the pot of potatoes boiling over. A tower of steaming water bubbled up from under the lid, racing down the side of the pot and hissing as it splashed onto the stove.

“Oh my God,” she said. She grabbed a potholder and yanked off the lid. She quickly stirred it, mumbling profanities under her breath, all of them directed at Christopher.

Her son cocked a sarcastic brow. “You sure you have that under control over there? Because it definitely doesn’t look that way to me. The whole kitchen looks like a war zone.”

Karen’s grin was wide and mocking. “Oh no, my sweet boy, I’m sure everything’s fine. Because you’ll be the one doing dishes.”

Christopher floundered at that. “Ahh . . . shit, Mom, I was just playing around, and now you’re going to go and punish me?”

“Um, yeah, I am, because you deserve it. And watch your mouth before I wash it out with soap,” she scolded, pointing her spoon at Christopher.

Middrink, I cracked up, because Karen was just really f**king cool. When Christopher punched me in the shoulder, I spit out the mouthful of beer I was trying to hold in. I was doing my best to cover it all up with my hand, but I couldn’t stop myself from laughing, couldn’t stop myself from feeling like I wanted to stay.

I caught Aly’s eye from where she was rinsing off the green beans at the sink. A hint of a smile played at her mouth, something that said I told you so and Things are going to be just fine.

But her eyes said so much more. They were welcoming me home.

Guarded, Dave watched the whole scene from where he rested back against the far counter. Really, he was just watching me, maybe warning me.

I dropped my gaze, dreading what was in store. Because if he couldn’t accept me now, he sure as hell wouldn’t accept me when he found out what was coming.

Close to an hour later, we all gathered at the table, Aly and I wedged on the inside near the windows, Christopher to my left at the end, and Aug directly across from me. Karen sat across from Aly, and Dave sat at the head in between her and Aly.

Maybe Karen had screwed up dinner twelve years ago, but she sure as hell had perfected it since. A moan rumbled somewhere deep in my chest when I took my first bite. “This dinner is unbelievable, Karen,” I said, not because I was kissing her ass but because it really was true.

A chorus of agreement rose up at the table.

An appreciative smile kissed her mouth, and she lifted her wineglass to me. “I’m just thankful you’re here to share it with us.”

“Thank you.” My voice came rough and quiet, but I really meant it, too.

Because God, it felt amazing sitting here. Sharing this with Aly. With her family.

Being with her.

I searched for her hand under the table and pulled it onto my lap, because I just wanted to feel her. Warmth sped through my veins, lighting a fire in my stomach and in my mind because as I sat there, I couldn’t stop myself from dreaming of what could be.

Through the large windows behind us, the sun began to sink toward the horizon, the early evening encroaching as the day slowly slipped away. It dimmed the room and thickened the mood, that same joy that sat so prominent on Aly’s face hours before now radiating from her entire body.

Conversation was light and the banter was high, like it had always been at the Moores’, though Dave had said few words the entire day. I knew Aly felt the tension from her father, but this girl just chose to enjoy the day that we had, forging on with the celebration like she’d promised when we left her room this morning.

It’s what mattered to her, so I made the choice for it to matter to me, too.

I just ate and enjoyed and forced down all the worries plaguing me.

Christopher chewed, swallowing before he spoke. “So, Aug, I hear the big game is coming up in a couple of weeks?”

Aug’s face lit up. “Yep, two weeks from tomorrow. Can’t believe we made it to State. It’s going to be a tough game, but I think we have a really good shot at winning the championship.”

“Proud of you, man,” Christopher said, lifting his chin in his younger brother’s direction. “You led them to it.”

“Thanks, Christopher.” Augustyn’s attention bounced around the table. “You all are coming, aren’t you?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Christopher immediately said.

Aug gestured to me. “What about you?”

“Of course.” It fell from my mouth without hesitation. No question, Aly would want to be there. Her little brother was the star quarterback, and this was going to be the biggest game of his life—so far, at least. And shit, I hadn’t gotten the chance to know him all that well, and I was happy to sign up for something that made the kid happy.

A crash of metal and glass halted the easy conversation. All eyes darted to the end of the table, where Dave had thrown his fork to his plate. He pushed his chair back from the table. “Goddamn it.” His voice resonated as a low growl when he muttered the words, just loud enough for the table to hear.

The man stared back at me with unmitigated hate.

“Dave,” Karen whispered urgently. Outright worry creased her forehead.

“What?” he shot back, unfazed, his anger escalating. “You want me to just continue sitting here, pretending like I shouldn’t be concerned with what’s happening?” His glare made a pass over me and Aly before he jerked it back to his wife. “Because it’s pretty damn clear I’m the only person sitting at this table who is taken by surprise that there’s something going on with these two, and I don’t exactly appreciate being made the fool.”

“Dad, no one is trying to make you out to be a fool,” Aly said, her tone almost pleading as she leaned toward him.

Hurt knitted up his brow. “Then what are you trying to do, Aly? Because I’m sitting here feeling like the brunt of a sick joke.”