“Hey! Who else noogied you? That’s my job.” He seemed mildly offended.

I peeked out into the living room to check on the cleanup efforts and saw Hawk holding the wide couch off the ground—with one hand, no less—so that Carrie could sweep underneath it. I turned back to my brother, sliding my hand through my hair to try and tame it. “You know that lineman, Langley? I’m apparently his ‘homie’ now.”

Beau chuckled. “That’s one big bastard. He’s like Tank, but fatter.”

Now was as good a time as any to bring up my ex, and I hopped up to sit on the gray granite countertop. “Did you know Axel was with the Wranglers now?” I asked in as casual a tone as I could muster.

Beau’s face hardened, and he nodded once, a sharp, harsh movement that radiated displeasure. “Heard that. You saw him?”

“Yeah, last weekend at a reception, and then today at practice.”

My brother was breathing heavily through his nose like an enraged bull. “He bother you?” he snapped, casting a sharp glance my way before returning to his Velveeta, whacking the soft cheese product way harder with his knife than necessary.

“No, Evan had no idea about our history and opened his big mouth at the reception. He told him I watched his games and that he had bought me a Broxton jersey, so Axel gave me a couple of signed Wranglers jerseys today, and that’s about it.”

His eyes narrowed as he added the cheese to the pans and stirred. “He needs to keep his ass away from you if he knows what’s good for him. Did he mention his daughter at all?” he asked, bitterness seeping into his voice.

“No,” I admitted.

He mumbled something that sounded like “piece of shit” and laid his spoon down. Wanting to change the subject, I indicated the three large pans of food and said, “Bro, I love your chicken spaghetti, but what the hell is that?” I pointed to the pan on the left.

He grinned. “Oh, Carrie asked for extra mushrooms, so Uncle Beau hooked her up.” The pan of chicken spaghetti was at least fifty percent mushrooms.

“You spoil her too much,” I complained. “And what kind of weird-ass kid loves mushrooms?”

“I know,” he said unashamedly over his shoulder as he slid the three pans into his double oven. “I like that our girl enjoys different kinds of foods. Some kids only eat chicken strips and fries, but Carrie pretty much eats anything we put in front of her. She’s so awesome.” The adoration was obvious in his voice.

“Yeah, she is,” I said with a satisfied sigh, hopping down from the counter and grabbing the cleaning spray and a clean sponge. Carrie really was the easiest kid in the world.