Page 80 of Racking Up Penalties
Chapter 35
I slide the last bobby pin into my hair when the door swings open and Tristan strides in with that easy, confident gait of his. A playful smirk dances across his lips as his deep blue eyes lock onto mine. “Next time, I’m expecting an engraved invitation,” he teases, the corners of his mouth tugging upward.
He steps closer, the air charged between us, and plants a soft kiss on my forehead. It’s sweet and comforting.
“Wow, Tessa, you look—” Ethan’s voice trails off as I slip into the knee-length black dress I brought for Thanksgiving.
“Incredible,” Liam finishes from his spot on the bed, his gray eyes shining with approval.
“Thanks, guys.” My cheeks flush with a faint blush at their attention, but there’s no time to dwell on the fluttering in my belly. We have a feast to attend to.
“Let’s not keep my mom waiting,” Liam says, and we all head towards the kitchen.
The moment we step over the threshold, my senses are assaulted by the intoxicating scents of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, and the tangy sweetness of cranberry sauce. It’s a symphony of aromas, each note perfectly harmonizing with the next. Debbie stands at the center of the culinary storm, her apron dusted with flour, the picture of domestic excellence.
“Debbie, this looks incredible,” I breathe, taking in the sight before me. The golden-brown turkey sits proudly at the center of the table, surrounded by an array of side dishes so beautifully arranged they could’ve been lifted from the pages of a gourmet magazine. Green beans almondine, honey-glazed carrots, and stuffing flecked with herbs and bits of sausage tempt my taste buds.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Debbie beams, wiping her hands on her apron. “I hope it tastes as good as it looks.”
Tristan leans in, inhaling deeply. “If it tastes half as good as it smells, we’re in for a treat.”
Ethan chuckles, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
Laughter blooms like a chorus around the dining table, each note weaving together to form a symphony of warmth and contentment. The clinking of silverware against china serves as the gentle percussion to our shared stories and teasing jests. Liam’s recounting of a childhood escapade sends ripples of mirth across the table, and I can’t help but join in the laughter, echoing from wall to wall.
Tristan’s deep blue eyes twinkle with merriment as he reaches for another helping of mashed potatoes. There’s a comfort in this easy banter, a sense of belonging that swells in my chest. Debbie’s glance sweeps over the table, her eyes shimmering with unspoken love as she takes in the scene before her.
The meal itself is a masterpiece, each dish lovingly prepared and savored. My taste buds dance with each bite of succulent turkey, the rich, earthy flavor of the stuffing complementing it perfectly. Debbie’s culinary magic is potent, drawing forth sighs of appreciation and quiet moments where only the sounds of enjoyment fill the air.
“Don’t eat too much, Tristan, you have a game Saturday to prepare for,” Ethan quips.
“Yes, I do.” Tristan turns to Debbie. “You’re welcome at any of my games, Debbie.”
“Does your mom come to some games?” Debbie asks innocently, but I know it’s not an innocent question.
“I, uh-”
I give Tristan an encouraging smile full of warmth.
He continues, “Debbie, my mom passed away, when I was younger but my sister, Emma, comes to them and she means everything to me.”
Debbie’s eyes soften further, if possible, and she nods enthusiastically. “I’m sorry to hear that, dear. Tristan, I’d love to come watch you play. Maybe we can even plan a trip out to see one of your away games,” she suggests, the pride evident in her tone.
“Really? That would be amazing.” Gratitude washes through Tristan’s expression, his shoulders relaxing as he accepts Debbie’s support. It’s clear that beneath his confident exterior lies a young man who values the bonds of this unconventional family as much as any of us.
“Of course,” Debbie assures him, reaching across to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “We’re family, after all.”
Debbie considers all of us family after just meeting us. It’s beautiful.
“Thank you,” he breathes, and the simple sincerity in those two words encapsulates everything this gathering represents. We may not be related by blood, but the ties that bind us are chosen.
The clinking of silverware against plates slows, and the room is filled with a contented silence, punctuated only by satisfied sighs. I lean back in my chair, letting the warmth that has nothing to do with the food settle into my bones. Liam’s laughter fades as he catches my eye, his gray gaze reflecting the flicker of candles on the table. It’s a look that says everything without a single word.
And then, a knock shatters the stillness.
“Who could that be?” Debbie murmurs, her fork halfway to her mouth, pausing mid-air.
We all exchange glances, brows furrowed in collective confusion. Liam rises first to go answer the door.
