Chapter 46: "I feel like eating casserole,"

For the first hour, we didn’t say much. I took out the food, and sure enough, he dipped his hand into my food. Saying something about me having to feed him since he takes such good care of me.

Bullshit!

I couldn’t stop him either, so I shared my brunch with him.

And then, as the game on screen intensified, our natural hockey brains took over. It started with a synchronized groan when New York’s top defenseman completely blew his coverage, leaving a massive, wide-open lane right down the slot.

"Look at that gaping," Reid scoffed, pointing a finger at the screen with a dry, arrogant chuckle. "He’s skating backward like he’s got weights tied to his ankles. I would’ve stripped him before he even hit the blue line."

"You would’ve taken a slashing penalty trying," I shot back, but a small laugh escaped my throat anyway.

A few minutes later, the opposing team attempted a horribly executed spin-o-rama near the boards, entirely losing control of the rubber and wiping out face-first into the plexiglass.

It was such an absolute, unforced disaster that we both looked over at each other at the exact same time, breaking out into genuine, unforced laughter.

For a second, looking at the way his smoky grey eyes crinkled at the corners, and how easy his smile was when he wasn’t trying to torment me, it felt... normal. Like we were just two teammates hanging out on a benched weekend.

The heavy, predatory edge from the morning was completely gone, replaced by a rare, comfortable truce.

The sun was high and bright outside, cutting through the large living room windows. Thankfully, the pouring Seattle rain from the day before had completely cleared up, leaving a crisp, clear afternoon.

We spent hours watching game after game until my stomach gave a loud, demanding growl, breaking the silence after the current game went to a commercial break.

Thanks to someone, I didn’t eat to my fill, and now, I am hungry again. But I was also out of a few essential grocery items, so...

"I need to go to the mart down the street," I said, pushing myself up from the couch while holding my side. "I need to grab some basic groceries and a few house supplies."

Reid immediately stood up, stretching his massive frame like a lazy cat before grabbing his jacket from the entryway chair. "Perfect. I’m coming with."

"No, you’re not," I said, stopping at the door to glare at him. "I’m going to the mart. You are going home, McCoy. You’ve stayed long enough."

"I feel like eating casserole," Reid ignored me entirely, pulling his jacket over his broad shoulders with a snobbish, entirely unbothered smirk.

"Then go back to your own luxury apartment and order one, or call a chef," I hissed, opening the front door. "I’m not making you a casserole."

"Nah, I want to have it here, in the Captain’s cozy, warm house," Reid countered smoothly, stepping past me into the hallway and intentionally using his large frame to brush against my shoulder, leaving a faint hint of his frozen pine scent in the air. "Besides, you’re injured. Who’s going to carry the heavy grocery bags back up the stairs? You should be grateful I’m being such a supportive rookie."

I squeezed my eyes shut, letting out a long, heavy sigh of pure frustration as I locked the door behind us. I literally could not get rid of him. He was completely maniacal, completely shameless, and determined to be as annoying as humanly possible.

Then I should be thanking my stars he wasn’t being demonically annoying.

The walk down the sunny Seattle sidewalk was quiet. I kept my hands shoved deep into my hoodie pockets, my eyes tracking the pavement, while Reid strolled beside me like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

He was too tall, too striking, drawing occasional glances from people passing by, but he didn’t seem to notice or care.

"If I buy the ingredients, are you going to shut up and leave after you eat?" I asked as we approached the automatic glass doors of the mart.

Reid chuckled, a low, arrogant sound that made my chest tighten.

"We’ll see, Cap. Depends on how good your casseroles are."

Bastard!

The automatic glass doors of the mart parted, welcoming us into the cool, fluorescent-lit air. The contrast between the bright, open grocery aisles and the suffocating intimacy of my apartment over the last twelve hours hit me like a splash of cold water.

I grabbed a small plastic basket, immediately wincing as the slight tug of my arm pulled at my left ribcage.

"Give me that," Reid muttered. Before I could even snap a refusal, his hand clamped over the handle, easily snatching it from my grip.

He didn’t look at me, already stepping past the security sensors and scanning the produce section with that lazy, unbothered posture.

"You’re supposed to be benched, Cap. Don’t go tearing something else and making me look bad to Devin."

"I am perfectly capable of carrying a basket, McCoy," I gritted out, keeping my voice low as we navigated past a display of fresh apples.

"Sure you are," he replied smoothly, tossing a head of garlic and a bunch of green onions into the basket without asking. "But since I’m the one craving a proper beef casserole, I’m making sure we get the heavy stuff. Go grab the meat. And don’t cheap out on the chuck roast."

I glared at his broad back, my hands buried deep inside my hoodie pockets. The sheer audacity of this rookie was unmatched. He had broken into my apartment, completely derailed my medical purge, knotted me right into submission under my own sheets, and now he was treating me like his personal sous-chef in the middle of a public grocery store.

Unbelievable.

Then, as I walked toward the butcher’s counter, my eyes tracking the neat rows of beef, a strange sense of caution settled back into my chest.

This environment was different. There were people around—families, elderly couples, the occasional college kid shifting through the aisles.

The thick, suffocating cloud of frozen pine and orchid pheromones that had trapped me in the bedroom was completely contained now, suppressed behind our standard public scents.

To anyone looking, we were just two athletic guys preparing a weekend meal.