Alder places a hand on the small of my back, guiding me to the dining room. "Ignore him," he whispers. "He's always looking for problems to solve."
The Stag dining table could easily seat thirty, and it's nearly full tonight. I find myself seated between Alder and Gunnar, with Tucker across from us.
"Hi, Tucker," I say. "How's the tooth?”
His eyebrows rise in surprise, and he spits his partial denture into his hand. "Good. You think I should be worried?”
I laugh. “I think you’re just fine.”
Dinner commences with a flurry of passed dishes and overlapping conversations. Juniper's lasagna is indeed magnificent, and I find myself genuinely enjoying the chaotic Stag family dynamic. It's so different from meals with my mom and whichever boyfriend of hers we were living with, which were often silent affairs punctuated by critiques of my appearance or eating habits.
As the meal progresses, I notice Uncle Tim watching Alder and me with calculating eyes. Eventually, he clears his throat during a pause in conversation.
"So, Alder," he says, his voice carrying down the table. "I've been seeing quite a lot about you in the press lately."
Conversations quiet as attention shifts to us. Alder's fork pauses halfway to his mouth. "Have you?"
"Indeed. You and Dr. Sinclair seem to be generating quite a bit of attention." Tim's tone is casual, but his eyes are sharp. "Particularly at Cara's match the other night."
Cara, seated next to Juniper, looks up. "Yeah, thanks for bringing your drama to my game, by the way. Very subtle."
"We were there to support you," Alder protests.
"Please," Cara says. "You were there to stir up gossip and fan flames.”
I feel heat rising in my cheeks as all eyes turn to us. Wes drapes his arm protectively around Cara’s shoulders and frowns at Alder.
"I'm curious," Tim continues, "if either of you have considered the professional implications of your... friendship. The team has strict policies about fraternization. I know because I wrote them."
I open my mouth to explain that we're just roommates, just friends, but Alder speaks first.
"We're having a summer fling, Uncle Tim. That's all."
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I stare at him, my mouth slightly open, as he continues. Gunnar must have dropped his fork because I hear a clatter from his direction.
Somehow, Alder keeps on talking. “Besides, the season's over. It's not fraternization if we're not actively working together, right?"
I can feel my eyes widening and my cheeks burning. A summer fling? That's what he's calling this? That's what he's telling his family about me?
Around the table, reactions vary from concern to amusement. Juniper appears troubled, while Gunnar barely suppresses a laugh. Tucker watches me closely, his expression unreadable.
"I'm not sure the organization would see it that way," Tim says carefully. "There are optics to consider, especially after the unfortunate end to the season."
"I think what Tim's trying to say," Juniper interjects, "isthat we're concerned about the timing. For both of you." Her kind eyes meet mine. "Rebounds can be... complicated."
"It's not a rebound," Alder insists as I sit frozen beside him, still processing his 'summer fling' declaration. "It's just... uncomplicated fun."
Cara snorts. "Is that what you call using my match as your coming out party?"
"We weren't?—"
“Save it,” she interrupts. "Half the stadium was talking about you two instead of the game."
An uncomfortable silence falls over the table. I stare at my half-eaten lasagna, wishing I could disappear. This isn't what I signed up for. We never agreed to tell his family we were having a "fling." We never agreed to any of this.
"Well," Juniper says brightly, "who's ready for dessert?"
As the conversation reluctantly shifts to safer topics, I excuse myself to use the restroom. Instead, I find myself wandering onto the back porch, in need of air and distance. The sun is setting over the treetops, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.
