Page 34 of Return

Dean slowed to a walk, breathing hard. Jesus, this was a better workout than the gym. He smiled when Pip turned back toward him without the slightest wobble. She rode onto the driveway, toppling sideways in the grass with a dramatic oof. Then she popped up laughing.

“I did it, Coach Dee!”

“You did,” he said, his chest unexpectedly tight. He looked toward Vivian, who was already looking at him.

Her smile was bright enough to rival the setting sun when she mouthed the words, “Thank you.”

After that, they all moved to the backyard, where Dean helped Victor build the fire.

Victor insisted on making the first round of mountain pies himself, claiming, “Nobody respects the sacred ratio of butter to bread.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “It’s grilled cheese in a cast-iron sandwich maker.”

“It’s mountain pie,” Victor corrected. “And this is what I’m saying. You just don’t respect the craft.”

Dean accepted the beer Victor handed him before settling into one of the Adirondack chairs circling the firepit. The flames crackled high enough to throw sparks toward the darkening sky, while the smell of burning wood mixed with the toasted bread and roasting hot dogs.

It felt easy. Just like so many evenings he’d spent here with Victor over the past year. Even the company was the same, though this group was more intimate. It wasn’t unusual for Vivian, Belle, and Pip to be here as well, though Dean wasn’t sure why Victor hadn’t invited more people tonight. Victor’s firepit was skirting the line of being bonfire sized, so there was plenty of room for at least ten more people.

“None of the guys wanted to come?” Dean asked.

Victor shrugged. “They probably would have if I’d invited them, but tonight, I was hoping for something less wild party and more relaxing. Plus, it’s only the beginning of the season and a few of those yahoos are already starting to wear on my nerves.”

Dean chuckled, even though he agreed. “I’m glad you opted for a smaller crowd.”

Vivian had added a faded university sweatshirt to the jeans and tee she’d been wearing during Pip’s bike riding lesson. Her hair was pulled up into a loose ponytail, wisps escaping around her face every time the breeze shifted.

She caught him looking at her and smiled. God. He was in serious trouble here.

The majority of the conversation as they ate their hot dogs and mountain pies was mainly about work—he and Victor discussing last night’s win against Boston, Belle and Pip talking about what she was learning in kindergarten, and Vivian sharing bits and pieces about the publication of her book, as well as a patient she was concerned about. She was a genetic counselor at Hopkins, and she’d had to explain what the hell that meant to him during one of their first meetings after he’d returned to Baltimore.

She laughed when his eyes started to glaze over at one point as she described the research she was doing in her attempts to help counsel her patient. “What part is tripping you up?” she teased.

“All of it. But mainly, I’m trying to figure out how you and Victor came from the same parents. I mean clearly,” Dean paused for effect, “you got all the brains.”

Victor chucked a hunk of his hot dog bun at Dean, who deftly dodged it. “Asshole.”

“Uncle Vic,” Pip said, her hand reaching out, palm up.

Victor snorted. “Put it on my tab, Pip. My wallet’s inside on the kitchen counter.”

Vivian had shared over dinner that night in Boston that Victor was currently funding a trip to Disney for all of them, simply with the swear jar Belle had started in hopes of encouraging the Reed siblings to clean up their language around the young girl.

Dean had been amused to learn that Vivian wasn’t much better than her brother at curbing her use of four-letter words.

“So,” Victor started, holding up two cans of pie filling mix. “Should we go for apple or cherry or both for our dessert pies tonight?”

“Both!” Pip shouted. “And s’mores.”

Vivian shook her head. “You’re not eating two dessert pies and s’mores, Pip.”

Pip’s lower lip made an appearance, and Dean wondered if she’d pitch a fit. But Victor, who was an amazing uncle and a natural with the kid, reassured her they would have plenty more firepits in the coming weeks, so she could have all the flavors eventually.

The evening settled into a comfortable rhythm once dinner was eaten and cleaned up. Dean, Victor, and Vivian were kicked back, all of them stretched out with their feet near the fire. Belle and Pip were roasting marshmallows with limited success. Belle had somehow managed to burn the hell out of three in a row.

Dean found himself talking more than he usually did, trading stories with Victor about the “good old days” when they were teammates, while Vivian teased them about old hockey superstitions.

“Rook reminds me a lot of Tommy Miller,” Victor observed. “Looks and personality wise.”