First Down (Beyond the Play, #1)(40)

If not for the miscarriage, I would have a sibling. There must be an alternate universe where my mother ended up having that baby. I used to wonder more often about what life would be like if my dad hadn’t left the way he did. If my mother managed to overcome her heartbreak. But ultimately, it’s useless to linger over. It just makes me sad. I try to avoid thinking about the what-ifs as much as possible.

I blink away the sudden tears that threaten to slip down my cheeks and open the fridge. Although there’s a pot of coffee on the counter, I’m the only one in the room. I pour myself a cup and add in some half and half.

There are eggs, which is a good start. Leftover potatoes. A slab of bacon. I scrounge up an onion and half a bell pepper, too, which means I can make a hash. If there’s one thing I can cook confidently thanks to the diner, it’s breakfast. Breakfast and pie.

I turn on one of my playlists, a pop mix that has me rocking my hips, and poke around until I find a frying pan. Within half an hour, I have a delicious hash steaming in the pan, crispy bacon draining on a paper towel, and eggs ready for frying. I’m cutting up some fruit I found in the crisper when I hear the front door open and shut.

“Yeah, I feel good,” Cooper is saying. “It was a nasty bruise for a few days, though.”

“If I got hit like that, I wouldn’t be able to walk straight,” Sebastian replies.

“That’s what she said.”

“You’re such a child.”

“Remember when you got hit with that wild pitch last season?”

“I swear my hip still aches.”

“Bro, you’d make a terrible hockey player.”

“Or football,” I hear James say. My stomach flips over pleasantly as he appears in the doorway, giving me a grin. “Hey. What’s all this?”

I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Thought you might want some breakfast.”

“It smells incredible,” Cooper declares as he brushes past his brother. He grabs a mug and fills it with coffee from the fresh pot I made, then pokes at the hash browns, stealing a bite.

“Hey,” I say. “Let me make you a plate. I still need to fry the eggs.”

“You really didn’t have to do any of this,” James says. He pours a cup of coffee too, kissing the top of my head before grabbing a piece of bacon.

Sebastian and Cooper give each other a look. I hide my blush by turning back to the stove and cracking the first batch of eggs into the skillet I’ve been warming slowly.

“I grew up in a diner,” I say. “I can do this in my sleep. Besides, I didn’t want Sebastian’s potatoes to go to waste.”

“How can I help?” he says.

“You can set the table, if you want?”

James does that while I crumble the bacon into the hash. Sebastian takes four plates down for me, and I put a big spoonful of the hash on each plate. When the eggs are perfect, I slide one atop each scoop of hash, finishing with salt and pepper and a dash of paprika. I don’t photograph food that often, but now I’m wishing I had my camera. It’s at the apartment, though, left there by accident when I had to rush back to campus for a last-minute study group. I’ll grab it when I get to the diner for the lunch shift.

“Holy crap,” Cooper says as he picks up two of the plates and brings them to the table. “Bex, you’ve been hiding some serious skills.”

I shrug, biting back the smile that threatens to engulf my face. “Wait until you taste it.”

James sits at the table next to me, leaning in so our arms brush. “I’m sorry I had to go this morning. Although less sorry now.”

“Did all three of you go to the gym?”

“Yeah,” he says as he breaks the yolk of his egg. “Probably sounds silly to you, but it’s a fun thing for us to do together. Hey, Coop, show her the bruise you got at that game.”

Cooper lifts his t-shirt, showing off a deep blue and purple mess on his ribcage. I gasp. “What happened?”

“Chirped at the wrong guy.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Like, smack talk?”

He grins as he takes a bite of hash. “Exactly. I’m sure he’s got a matching shiner; we went pretty rough against the boards.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “And then you went into the penalty box for slashing.”

Cooper shrugs at Sebastian’s chiding tone. “So did he.”

“And it’s going to catch up with you, racking up all those penalties.”

“Who are you, Dad?”

“He does have a point,” James says. “You don’t want to give your agent a reason to be pissed at you.”

My eyes widen. “You already have an agent?”

“It’s not official,” says Cooper. “She’s a friend of our father’s, I’ll actually sign with her after graduation.”

“Coop’s still salty that Dad didn’t let him go into the draft,” James teases.

“How?” I ask. “You haven’t been drafted yet.”

“Hockey is different. A lot of guys get drafted way before they end up signing with a team, but our parents would’ve killed him if he left college early.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Cooper grumbles.

“But the NFL does things differently?”