warm—he’d seen those characteristics many times over. His smile grew to a soft appreciation. It fit her too, just like every other trait, because it hadn’t come out in a fit of self-righteous spite but in defense of herself and him.
He glowed with the warmth that spread from his chest. No one outside of his hockey brothers had ever stepped in to protect him before. Not even Emma or his grandmother. His parents’ version of protection had been to send him away.
“You coming?” Dan asked, waiting on the short flight of stairs to the front porch. The other guys had gone inside while Henrik had been lost in his thoughts.
He cleared his throat and headed to the door. “Yeah.”
“Look,” Dan said when he reached him, eyeing Henrik with a blend of respect and doubt. “We’re not really that big of dicks.” He rubbed his neck, glancing away as he dropped his hand. “She’s our little sister, and we almost lost her twice.” He looked back to Henrik, eyes gleaming in the amber light. “We’re all a little overprotective of her.”
He got that, couldn’t fight it even a bit. “I’m not out to hurt her.” He would keep repeating that until they believed him. Better yet, he’d show them.
“I hope so.” Dan gave Henrik’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “So,” he went on, opening the door. “Does this mean you can get us tickets to a game?”
“Awesome,” Finn exclaimed from inside. “On the glass?”
“Box seats,” Aiden insisted. “We deserve box seats for not kicking your ass.”
Henrik laughed, a deep rumble that baffled yet soothed him. This he could handle. Guy banter was his first language. “I’d like to see you try, little man,” he said to Aiden when he stepped inside.
“Ignore Aiden, he’s all talk,” Finn said. “Both on and off the ice.”
“Bullsh—crap.” Aiden glanced at the kitchen. “I can out-skate you any day.”
“Dream on, little bro.”
“And I can school you both.” Henrik grinned, easing into the flow. This was comfortable. Maybe he could even fit in a bit. Was there a chance that a family like this would actually accept him?
Chapter Nineteen
“He’s a keeper, isn’t he?” Tory asked.
Jacqui didn’t move from her study of Henrik. He was sitting at the dining table, her brothers bantering around him over dishes mostly empty and pints of beer. Her spot at the end of the short hallway to the bath and bedrooms provided a perfect observation point.
She leaned into her sister-in-law who’d come up behind her, smiling to herself. “Yeah. I think he is.” She’d been thinking that more and more after their soul-baring confessions a week ago. Since then, they’d talked multiple times a day when he was on the road, and she’d spent every night at his house when he’d been home.
That had been the impetus that’d had her mother insisting on meeting the man she was sleeping with. God, she was twenty-five years old and still blushed when her mother wanted to talk about sex. Just, no.
“He barely flinched when I shoved Nigel into his arms.” Tory might’ve been joking but her voice was serious. Giving her baby to Henrik to hold had been her version of the test her brothers were still putting him through.
The poor guy. He’d been so clueless walking into her mob of a family. But he’d survived once her brothers had backed off. Asses, every one of them—who loved her deeply, and she wouldn’t change them. Ever.
Nigel was sound asleep, snuggled into Henrik’s wide chest like he belonged there. Was it right to be envious of the infant? Or was it worse to feel a pang of longing for that baby to be theirs? Stupid, wishful and way too fast.
“He only bobbled him a few times before settling back like a natural,” Jacqui observed, shooting Tory a quick grin.
“Has he been around kids before?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, the realization nagging at her. They’d spent a lot of time together, but none of it had been with other people until now.
“So.” Tory nudged her. “Are things serious then?”
Were they? “I think so.” Despite her resistance and hesitation, she was in deep with him. Love? She wasn’t ready to say that aloud. It was still too risky. Fragile.
Love me. I can love you. Words spoken in the throes of sex that spun dreams she hoped were true, if only...
“Good for you.” Tory squeezed Jacqui’s arm, warmth in her voice. “So... I thought you didn’t like hockey.”
Jacqui rolled her eyes. “Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t