SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL, J.HUGHES

FIFTY NINE

"What's up, Luckey?" Cole practically launches himself onto Luke, like he's been waiting all week to do it. Trev and him tumble through the door, laughing like they haven't seen each other in years.

"God, it's cold here, man," Trev grumbles, his breath coming out in frosty puffs. I raise an eyebrow. What does he mean? It's almost as cold as Montreal, and that place is like an icebox half the year.

I slice the last piece of bell pepper, pushing it aside on the cutting board. Wiping my hands on my apron, I can't help but smile. I missed my boys, even if they're a bunch of overgrown children.

Jack's too focused on what he's doing to notice Trev and Cole have started swiping at the veggies we've chopped up for the pizza. He's always in his zone, a man on a mission. Meanwhile, I slide over to Trev, wrapping my arms around him. He lifts me off the ground like I weigh nothing, making me giggle like a schoolgirl.

"Eva wanted to come, but couldn't with her new job," he says, setting me back down with a squeeze that says he missed me too.

"Oh yeah? How's she liking it?" I ask, bouncing on the balls of my feet like a kid who just heard Santa's on his way. But Trev just shrugs, his face scrunching up in that 'meh' way that tells me she's probably not loving it.

I get it, though. Eva had it all in Cali—modeling gigs left and right, her face on billboards, deals dropping into her lap every week. She was becoming a name, you know? But then, she moved to Montreal, and it's like the industry just hit pause. She's still flying out for jobs when she needs to, but it's not the same. It's like they've replaced her back in Cali, like the spotlight moved on to someone else.

Now she's got this new gig as a media entertainer in Montreal. She seems to like it, working with a bunch of other influencers who speak that weird French. Every night she calls me to share the latest slang she's picked up. It cracks me up because, even though I'm fluent in French, half the time I have no idea what they're saying up there. It reminds me of when my aunt dated a Québécois guy who taught us how to say 'shut up' in French one Christmas. Good times.

We all gather around the kitchen island, and Trev and Cole are buzzing with excitement over the homemade pizza. I glance over at the Hughes brothers, shaking my head with a snort. I told them this would be a hit.

"You guys are acting like this is your first time seeing homemade pizza," I tease, rolling out the dough on the floured surface.

"Can you blame us?" Trev says, his voice low, almost a growl. "Your cooking is legendary. Even Jack can't resist it." He nods towards Jack, who's still laser-focused on slicing up mushrooms, completely ignoring us.

"Jack could probably live on pizza," Cole adds with a smirk, tossing a handful of flour at Luke, who's finally untangling himself from the scarf he's been wearing like it's freezing inside. "But he'd never admit it."

Luke catches the flour in mid-air, wiping it off his jogging with an exaggerated sigh. "Cole, you're such a child," he mutters, but there's a grin creeping onto his face. He crosses the kitchen to grab the pepperoni, nudging me out of the way with his hip. It's a playful, easy movement, and I shove him back just as lightly.

"Hey, where's that sauce?" Trev asks, breaking the moment. He's already moved on from hovering over me to rooting around in the fridge. I watch him, his broad shoulders blocking the light as he rummages through the shelves. His back muscles tense as he leans in, one hand braced on the door, the other digging through jars.

"I got it right here," I say, reaching up to tap the jar of sauce perched on the counter. Trev straightens up, a sheepish grin on his face, and takes it from me with a nod.

The smell of pizza fills the apartment as we move on to topping the dough. Cole's already made a mess of it, but I'm not even mad.

Cole leans in close, his chest almost brushing my back, and asks, "This enough?" with that smirk of his. He knows he's just messing around, the dough uneven like it's having an identity crisis. I laugh and step in to fix it, smoothing out the edges while Cole stays right there, peeking over my shoulder.

"Just don't fuck up my pizza," Jack finally says, breaking his silence. He's been chopping veggies with this intense focus, like he's in some cooking show. But now he's looking over at us, eyes flickering with that playful challenge he always has.

Jack just shakes his head, a small smile on his lips as he goes back to his task. There's something so chill about this—everyone packed into the kitchen, the oven warming the room, and all of us just vibing.

I hand the spoon off to Cole and reach for the shredded cheese. Trev's already going ham with the pepperoni, grabbing handfuls like he's starving. Luke, on the other hand, is being sneaky as hell, popping a slice of pepperoni into his mouth with that grin that says he knows he's caught.

"Hey, save some for the pizza, dumbass," I scold, smacking Luke's hand lightly. He just laughs, leaning back against the counter like he's got all the time in the world to mess with me.

Before anyone can respond, the door swings open, and Gab walks in like she owns the place, which, honestly, she kind of does. "What's up, losers?" she greets, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she kicks off her shoes.

"Just making sure these idiots don't ruin dinner," I reply, giving her a knowing look.

Gab rolls her eyes but smiles, walking over to Luke and wrapping her arms around him from behind. "You're not letting them mess up your pre-game meal, are you?"

Luke shrugs, turning his head to give her a quick kiss. "I'm just here for the entertainment."

Gab smirks, resting her chin on his shoulder as she surveys the mess we've made. "You guys are like toddlers in a sandbox, I swear."

"Hey, this is high-quality pizza crafting, thank you very much," Cole defends, throwing a handful of pepperoni in Gab's direction. She dodges it with ease, laughing.

"Sure, sure," she teases. "Just remember who's cooking for you next time you're craving something more than frozen pizza."

Jack snickers, finally done with his chopping as he sets the knife down. "Good thing I'm the one making it then, huh?"

Gab raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "You actually cooking for once? Miracles do happen."