The Cocky Hockey Captain

Chapter 19 ● Dysfunctional Legacies

The door opened just a few seconds after I rang the doorbell. Dean stood in a deep red sweater that I had to pretend I didn't admire. But I did. Red was totally his color.

I cleared my throat. "Hi."

"Hi," he said, staring at me for a second before taking out his hand to shake my dad's. "Sir."

Dad shifted from behind me to shake the boy's hand, although he didn't say a single word.

Dean craned his neck and shouted at his mom that we had arrived before opening the door wider and letting us in. I stepped in, grateful for the warmth inside. Today had warmed up considerably compared to the weekend, and the snow and ice had begun to melt, but I was sure I hadn't seen the last of it. Winter hadn't even officially started.

"Charlie, glad you made it," Margaret said as she walked out of the kitchen toweling her hands dry. Her eyebrows went up as she saw my dad standing behind me, and in that second she looked exactly like her son. "Oh, hello, Gabriel. I didn't know for sure if you were coming."

Dad stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat. "I just wanted to make sure that this rowdy kid here," this he said as he jerked his chin towards me. "Was not by chance lying, since s-supposedly he's grounded."

I was sure the stutter had all to do with the fact that he'd just about referred to me as a she, and not at all because Margaret was looking really nice tonight. Or that it smelled wonderfully in the house. Or that it was warm and cozy like a home should be.

"No! Don't get me wrong." Her eyes went wide as saucers and she put her hand on her forehead. "I meant to invite you all along, it just slipped my mind to officially do it because I've been so busy. I'm glad Charlie brought you along."

Dad shook his head. "No worries, I don't mean to impose myself."

"Nonsense, stay please," she said. "The more the merrier."

Dean and I exchanged a glance that needed no words. It translated exactly to, they're not flirting, are they?

Dad's face morphed into that half cringe, half smile that people give when they're really uncomfortable but just don't want to seem rude by admitting it. "I don't think it'd be a good idea to have me and your husband under the same roof, really."

"Don't worry, Mr. Bernal. Dad's not joining us tonight," Dean said.

With a few more polite volleys they ended up convincing dad to stay, which maybe made him happy, who knew?, but definitely didn't please me. This was going to be a hell of a long night.

We took our coats, scarves, gloves and hats off and because the house was so warm I decided to also shed a fleece cardigan I was wearing. After hanging everything I saw that the source of the heat was a fireplace. With real fire. I walked up to it like the flames were calling on me and I held my hands out, marveling at the heat that chased away the numbness in my limbs. This was fantastic. One point for Canada.

"Feeling toasty?" Dean's rich voice with that slight twang of his came from behind me.

I bit my lip. A different warmth spread over me just from hearing his voice.

All I said was, "I'm officially impressed by this country."

He chuckled.

From the living room I heard dad ask, "Is there anything we can help you with?"

Meanwhile Margaret had already disappeared back into the kitchen when she said, "You're our guests, I wouldn't ask you to move a finger."

"Better yet, I can move my whole hands," dad said.