The thump of crutches on hardwood got closer and louder. "Dinner?" Faster than she would have thought, Liam stood in the doorway. "What are we having? I vote for pizza. Savanna, they do a really good job of it downstairs."
"Pizza and champagne sounds great." She shook off her disappointment that a dinner for two had turned into a dinner for three. A chance to witness—to study—the dynamics of Slade and Liam's friendship might help her better understand him. Strong and braver-than-hell Slade had been a turn on and made her feel safe. But his vulnerable side, and her feeling that he didn’t show it to many people, that side brought out her protective instincts.
Maybe their arrangement didn't have to be so one-sided. Maybe she could find a way to grant his innermost wish, too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CLAIRE
THREE HOURS BEFORE game time, Claire pulled her car into the driveway of her family home. The sprawling house looked the same as it always did, but ever since she'd moved out, returning home felt different. She couldn't put her finger on why. Maybe because it wasn't officially home anymore. Or maybe because she still felt guilt over the need to lay claim to her own space, and to be in a place where she didn't have to cater to anyone's demands or schedules but her own.
Not that she'd fully escaped those old demands. But things were a lot calmer now. Two months into having her own apartment and almost one month into having the best job ever had a lot to do with that.
She let herself inside and sorted through the mail littering the small table by the door. Silence greeted her. She wasn't sure who she'd find home on a Saturday afternoon. "Anyone home?"
Lauren bolted down the stairs, long hair flying behind her like a cape, and grabbed Claire in a tight hug. "You're here."
Claire's breath rushed out of her lungs and she extracted herself from her youngest sister's squeeze. "I just saw you last week."
"Yeah, but you driving me to gymnastics isn't the same as you living here."
True. "I just stopped by to check the mail. The post office said rerouting my mail could take a while."
Lauren pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. "You're not staying for dinner?"
"I can't. I have to go to work." She picked up the junk mail and headed down the hall and through the living room.
"Do you still like your new job? Have you met all the players yet? Are they nice? Some of them are really cute." Lauren's rapid-fire questions followed Claire into the kitchen.
The very messy kitchen. Claire stopped in the middle of the room. "What the heck happened in here?"
Lauren glanced around the space. "What?"
"The overflowing dishes in the sink. The used pans on top of the oven. The crumbs all over the counter. The sections of newspaper strewn all over the floor."
"Oh." Lauren shrugged. "I guess I didn't notice."
More likely, Claire hadn't been there to nag and remind people to keep things clean. "Where are Krissy and Ginger?"
"Laying out by the pool. Hey, since you're here, can you make your famous lasagna?"
Claire shook her head and stepped over Lauren's backpack and pile of notebooks. She tossed the junk mail into the recycle bin and glanced into the yard. Her twin sisters were draped over lounge chairs, laughing with their phones in hand. "What about Amanda and Jen?"
"They're both at work and should be home by five. Please stay and have dinner with us. We haven't all spent time together in forever." Lauren's wide eyes rivaled a puppy dog's pleading stare. Her just-turned fifteen-year-old sister was very much the baby of the family and Claire had a hard time telling her no.
She opened the dishwasher, intending to load some of the contents of the overburdened sink, but it was jammed full of dirty dishes. Seriously? How did her sisters not notice? "Dad's at work?"
"Yep. But I saw him at breakfast. He said there were a lot of surgeries today." Lauren shrugged and picked up a glass of water from the table. "I know I've always said I wanted to be an anesthesiologist like Dad, but I don't think so now. He works a lot."
"Mmm hmm." Claire glanced at his work schedule listed on the calendar that held her sisters' appointments, sports, schedules, and activities. The hours he put in at the hospital had been the source of some horrible fights between their parents. Claire had just turned eleven when her mother had walked out of their lives. She remembered the harsh words and accusations and the feeling of being a burden. After Mom had left, she'd promised herself that her younger sisters wouldn't ever feel that way. She'd take care of everyone.
Krissy and Ginger came through the French doors that led to the yard. "Hi," they said in unison.
Lauren thrust a worn recipe book in Claire's direction, with the page already opened to the Italian dish. "The lasagna doesn't taste the same if you don't make it."
Krissy's brows rose. "You're making your lasagna? That's my favorite."
"Mine, too." Ginger, her carbon copy in looks and attitude, chimed in. They often joked that the seventeen-year-old twins shared the same brain. Especially when they moved and spoke in sync. Twin magic, Dad had called it, and the term had stuck.
"Guys, I really don't have time." She spied the piles of clothes in front of the washing machine in the adjoining laundry room. "What's going on? Are you all on strike? This place is a mess."
The twins shrugged, then Krissy pointed toward the laundry. "Amanda was going to do that tomorrow."
"Okay, but what about the dishes?"
"It's Jen's week for dish duty. When you moved out, we changed up
