Puck Block : A Brother’s Best Friend Hockey Romance (Bexley U)

If the drive back home is any type of foreshadowing for how the rest of the evening is going to go, Ford and I aren’t going to leave my house unscathed.

My ears are bleeding from the volume of the music coming from my brother’s speakers for the last two hours, and it did nothing to help block the inappropriate thoughts filling my head as I stared at Ford’s talented fingers drumming to the beat the whole time.

“There they are.” My mom stands on the porch with her hands on her hips. Naturally, Ford is the first one to greet her with a big hug.

Emory coughs from behind. “Suck-up.”

I want to smile, but I’m too tense, so I brush past my brother to get the next hug. My mom squeezes me a little longer than she did Ford and pulls back without letting go of my shoulders.

I count backward in my head. 3, 2, 1…

“Are you feeling okay? What’s your sugar level? Is the monitor doing its job?” Her blue eyes, the same shade as mine, scan me from head to toe.

“Ma.” Ford puts his hands on my hips to steer me away. “You have such little trust in us. We’ve got Tay under control.”

My mom playfully rolls her eyes and shoos him away. Emory swoops in to hug her, and in true Emory fashion, the hug lasts for half a second. He’s suddenly right behind Ford and me, which prompts Ford to drop his hands from my hips. We briefly catch each other’s eye, but he looks away, and I’m left feeling disappointed.This content belongs to Nô/velDra/ma.Org .

Oh my god, stop.

We end up in the kitchen, and I’m hit with the memories from my childhood. I breathe in the reminiscence as I stare at the wooden table over by the breakfast nook with four chairs that are the same shade of white and the one by the window that’s a different hue. I still remember the day my mom added it to the table for Ford.

It hasn’t left since.

“Where’s Dad?” Emory asks, opening the fridge. He pulls out something in a glass casserole dish and grabs a fork from the drawer before he starts digging in.

By the looks of it, it’s cold lasagna.

“At least warm it up!” my mom chides, pushing him off to the side. She scoops two hefty servings onto two plates and then turns to me. “Are you hungry, babe? What do you want? This is loaded full of carbs.”

“I’m fine.” I hate that my tone gives away exactly what I’m feeling because Ford slowly swings his gaze to me, and the look on his face tells me he knows what I’m thinking.

Nothing has been the same since I woke up in the hospital last summer, and I have a big feeling that things are going to get even worse before the three of us leave tomorrow morning. That is, if Emory figures out what my parents are hiding from him.

The back door opens, and a gust of cold air flies in after my dad. “Hey, Dad–” Emory stops in the middle of his sentence and smiles at the short lady standing behind our father.

Ford stands quickly. He swarms his aunt, who has been his motherly figure–along with my mom–since his own mother died. “What are you doing here? I thought you were working.”

Ford’s at least two heads taller than his aunt Jo. When he places her feet down on the ground, she pats his chest while peering up at him like he’s a tall building. “And miss your random surprise visit home? I traded shifts, silly boy.”

“I missed you,” Ford speaks with a soft tone, and it’s obvious to everyone how pleasantly surprised he is. For some crazy reason, my eyes begin to water. I quickly turn and blink the moisture away, trying not to focus too much on how fulfilling it is to see him happy.

“Well, get your cute little butt over here, Taytum Elizabeth!” I climb from my chair with a smile on my face. I wrap my arms around another added member to my family who isn’t blood-related. “How are you doing? Are you keeping these knuckleheads in line at school?”

I laugh. “Trying my best.”

Ford mutters something under his breath, but I hear him perfectly when I sit across from him. “More like us keeping her in line.”

Emory helps Ford’s case. “I do recall Ford having to go back for you after the fire alarm incident last night.”

All eyes are on me, and I freeze. Sweat prickles my scalp, and my face burns. I feel a swift kick to my shin and quickly snap out of it. Ford remains completely relaxed, but I know everything that’s running through my head is running rampant through his too.

“Fire alarm? What?” My dad is concerned, but Ford quickly comes to my rescue.

“No big deal. Someone set off the fire alarms at the football house, and when I realized I couldn’t find Taytum, I went searching.” He starts to bite into his food. “She was checking her sugar. I stayed with her until she was good to go.”

He sure did. 

My mom reaches over and squeezes his shoulder. He looks at me briefly. “Thank you, Ford. If it weren’t for you and Emory watching out for her, we’d have a heart attack with her at school by herself.”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” I remind them.

Emory snorts, and I almost throw a fork at his face.

Ford clears his throat and plays right into their hands. “Maybe we like taking care of you, little sis.”

I raise an eyebrow. Little sis? Without so much as blinking, I go to kick him like he did to me, but with his hand underneath the table, he catches my ankle and holds on tight. I jerk it while trying to keep myself upright, but his grip tightens.

In an attempt to control the situation, I relax my leg and shift beneath the table. His hand loosens, and I scoot to the edge of my seat. My shoe brushes the zipper of his jeans, and I have to force myself to keep a straight face. “You guys don’t want to take care of me,” I say. “You want to control me. God forbid I give some guy my number.”

Ford’s fingers dig into my ankle.

“You shouldn’t be focusing on a boyfriend, sweetheart. You need to get your health under control first. Level out those glucose readings so we can slap a pump on you,” my dad adds.

My stomach falls. I want to reiterate that I don’t need a pump, but with doing so, I’m afraid I’ll spill their secret and everything will blow up in my face.

The room grows tense. Ford’s aunt takes a step forward, and I wait with bated breath to see what she’s going to say. Does she know about their money issue?

“You know,” she says. “Sex is good for your health.”

Emory chokes on his leftover lasagna, and Ford immediately drops my foot. To no surprise, I’m the only one who laughs.

My parents scold her jokingly, but I smile at her.

Aunt Jo has always been on my side, even when Ford is involved.

After my mom tells us all to go into the living room so she can make us a homemade meal from her new cookbook, Cooking for Diabetics, I move to sit beside Ford on the couch but think twice and sit on the opposite end. Emory and my dad are in the middle of a conversation about the guys’ latest game, which prompts my brother into poking holes in their excuse of going to Lennie’s birthday party instead of their next game.

Panic starts to make itself known in my lower stomach and forces me to leave the room. I can’t bear to hear the excuse that’s going to fall from my father’s mouth next because I’m privy to the real reason they’re not coming, and it weighs me down with guilt.

I feel Ford’s eyes trail my every step, but when I take a quick glance back, he’s turned all the way toward the TV where he, my dad, and Emory watch old footage of hockey.

He hoped that being back home around my family and brother would help keep his eyes off me, and I guess he was right.