And since I was older, I was feeling it more and more. My guess, twenty-two-year-old Arlo had hopped out of bed at the crack of dawn without a single creak or groan or cramp.

Scents of garlic and sugar and other delicious concoctions drifted upstairs, perking me up.

The benefit to having a sister who was a self-trained incredible chef?

Free food whenever she was in town, and she always made sure she fed me well.

I shoved out of bed, took care of using the bathroom and a quick brush of my teeth. As I headed downstairs, their laughs grew louder, more carefree than I’d heard from Emmersyn yet.

Good to hear, given what lay ahead.

Hell, I was surprised her old phone Heather brought wasn’t already exploding with texts and calls.

Thankfully, I walked into two happy women in the kitchen, Emmersyn sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping orange juice—probably freshly squeezed, knowing Heather—and Heather where she loved to be, in the kitchen flipping what looked like crepes in a skillet. Next to the stove, on a cutting board, was spinach and mushrooms, some thinly sliced onions and garlic. Loads of garlic.

“Go to the grocery store this morning?” I asked.

“Hey.” Heather grinned up at me. “Good morning to you too, grumpy. And no, I didn’t.”

“The food fairy deliver all of this then?”

At her perch on the stool, Emmersyn covered a laugh with her fist.

“No.” Heather scrunched her nose. “Well, sort of. I made a plan last night after you two went to bed and ordered everything to be delivered today.”

“You’re the best.” I kissed her temple as I moved past her. “You can crash my wedding any day if it means you cook for me.” I winked at Emmersyn and headed toward the coffee. “Smells delicious. What else are you cooking?”

“What? Crepes aren’t good enough for you?”

They absolutely were, I just knew her. I poured my coffee, arching a brow as I took my first sip.

“Fine. Cinnamon rolls are in the warming drawer, already done, and I have homestyle potatoes in the oven.”

“Also a fruit salad,” Emmersyn piped in. “In the fridge, and she already has steak marinating for dinner tonight.”

“Traitor.” She shoved a spatula in Emmersyn’s direction.

I barked out a laugh. “Perfect. How long are you staying?”

“Early morning the day after your game tomorrow.”

“Another game already?” Emmersyn asked. “Don’t you like… need time to heal?”

Heather and I both laughed. “Welcome to the hockey season. We have about three games a week from now until April—”

“June or July because this year you’re taking it all,” Heather cut in.

“That’s my favorite cheerleader.” I fist pumped her and turned back to Emmersyn. “Like I was saying, yeah. We don’t get many days off. We’ll have a break. There’s the all-star weekend, a few days around Christmas, that kind of thing, but for the most part, once the season starts, we’re off and running for a while.”