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Dean laughed, then tilted his head toward the bookshelf where he had a bottle of bourbon and a few glasses stashed for special occasions.

Victor considered his unspoken invitation to join him for a drink before shaking his head. “Promised Belle I’d get home quick after the game. It’s the first time we’re hosting Thanksgiving as a couple and she’s freaking out a little, determined to make it perfect, like we’re fucking Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg.”

Dean was amused by the comparison—and the fact Victor seemed to think Snoop Dogg held some gold standard on Thanksgiving. “Thanks for the invitation, Vic.”

“Don’t fucking blow it. Despite recent events, I think you might be good for my sister. But if you tell her I said that, I’ll fucking deny it,” Victor said, giving him a grin. “See you at noon, dumbass.”

Victor gave him a quick wave over his shoulder, leaving Dean in the peace and quiet he’d been seeking earlier. It no longer felt necessary. For the first time in nearly a week, his thoughts were silent.

Victor had invited him to Thanksgiving. His friend was giving him the opportunity to make this right, and Dean was going to take it.

Not just for Vivian but for Pip and McKenna and Tank and Victor and Belle and Ellie.

Family.

His family.

Maybe this was what a second chance looked like. Not some grand, life-changing moment. Maybe it was simply showing up.

Tomorrow, Dean intended to do exactly that.

Chapter Twelve

Dean parked a short way from Victor’s house, silently counting ten cars in his driveway and on the street. Reaching into the back seat, he grabbed the case of beer and pumpkin pie he’d picked up from the twenty-four-hour grocery store last night. The pie wasn’t as big as a Costco pie, but it didn’t look bad.

He was sorry he hadn’t asked Victor how many people were on the guest list. He didn’t realize there would be a houseful, though he probably should have. Victor and Vivian had opened their home to Stingrays players who couldn’t make it home for the holidays—Thanksgiving and Christmas—since that first year after their parents died.

Victor had later admitted he’d only issued the invitation that year because he couldn’t stomach the thought of him and Vivian sitting in a quiet house alone on Christmas Day, aching for their parents. Apparently, that was what they’d done for Thanksgiving, and Victor had abhorred the idea of a repeat.

Dean had been hoping to find a way to pull Vivian to a quiet spot in the house today, so they could talk in private. However, given the noise already coming from the house, he feared quiet might be hard to come by.

He knocked at the door with a bit of force, concerned no one would hear him over the din of voices and laughter and music.

Dean froze when it was Vivian, not Victor, who opened the door.

She looked beautiful in blue jeans and a soft sweater, her dark hair falling around her shoulders. Her smile disappeared instantly when she saw it was him.

“Hello, Vivian,” he said.

“Hi. Victor said he invited you.” Her tone was neutral enough he didn’t have a clue how she felt about that. Although the tightness around her mouth was offering enough insight to let him know she wasn’t pleased.

For one suspended moment, neither of them moved or spoke again.

Then a little voice shouted from somewhere behind her.

“Coach Dee!” Pip came flying down the hallway. Dean barely had time to put down the beer and hand the pie off to Vivian before she launched herself at him.

He caught her, chuckling when she gave him an effusively tight hug around the neck.

He glanced up at Vivian and caught a soft expression on her face. One she wiped away instantly when she realized he was looking.

“How’re you doing, Pipsqueak?” he asked.

Pip released him, then tilted her head in the same way her mother did when she was annoyed. “It’s been forever,” she drawled.

Dean laughed at her dramatic tone, even though he felt guilty about the distance he’d created between him and Pip. He’d spent less time with Victor—and by extension, Pip—the past few months. He’d been determined to spend every free moment with Vivian, whether it was in person or texting or FaceTiming, or even just fantasizing about her. “You’re right. It has. So catch me up.”

Pip didn’t need an invitation to talk, but when she was offered one, damn if she didn’t take it. She grasped Dean’s hand, guiding him into the house as she filled him in on all her kindergarten adventures, as well as assuring him that she was still the best bike rider ever.