Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

“I got the extra space so my family would have a place to stay when they visited. But my parents have yet to downsize, and anytime my brother even acts like he’s gonna stay here instead of at my parents’ house, my mom acts like her life is ending.”

His description makes me huff out a laugh. “Moms can be dramatic.”

Maddox squeezes my fingers, reminding me we’ve been holding hands this entire time. “Ruth seems reasonable.”

I scoff. “I’m sorry, what part of anything she did or said was reasonable?”

“Telling Chelsea she could have boys over when she turned thirty-five.”

SEVENTY

MADDOX

Walking Hannah through my house highlights just how little of it I actually use. But of course, she’s too nice to point out the wasted space.

“I’ll show you the basement later,” I tell her as I lead her toward the kitchen.

She looks over the items I have out on the island.

“Have a seat,” I gesture to the stools at the island and finally release her hand.

Hannah climbs onto one of the seats and swivels it so she’s facing me across the counter. “What are we having?”

“One of the few things I know how to make.” I turn the burner on under the pot I already filled with salted water, then move to the fridge and pull out the rest of the ingredients. “Lemon butter noodles with shrimp.”

“Mm, that sounds amazing.”

I glance over to see her smiling.

“I made it a lot while I was playing, usually with chicken, but I saw you eating shrimp at your mom’s birthday dinner, so I figured you’d be okay with it.”

“I’m definitely okay with shrimp. Is there anything I can do?”

Shaking my head, I slice one of the lemons in half and quarter the other. “Just sit there and look pretty.”

Hannah sighs. “Always a charmer.”

“Just speaking the truth is all.”

“Uh-huh.”

I pause as I’m reaching for the parsley. “Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve hosted anyone.” I set the knife down. “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got water, there’s wine in the cellar—”

“Water is perfect.” Hannah cuts me off before I can list every liquid in the house.

“Ice?”

“No thanks.”

I narrow my eyes at her as I take two glasses out of the cupboard. “Weirdo.”

Hannah snorts but watches me fill her glass. “How long have you lived here?”

While I cook dinner, I answer her questions. Telling her how I bought the lot not long after moving back to play for the Biters. I explain what a nightmare it was to go furniture shopping with my mother. How my dad showed up literally every day during construction, just to watch from the yard because he’s a bored retiree.

Hannah grins at my stories and accepts a glass of whiskey on ice when I pour one for myself. It is Friday night, after all, and I have my girl in my house, no better reason for a celebratory drink.

“What are you doing?” Hannah asks when I pull a large tray out of the pantry.