Chapter 67 Pasta delight

Chapter 67 Pasta delight
It was Tuesday evening and unlike every other Tuesday evenings, this one in particular was different.

The big championship game was only a few days away, but Leo had declared a "No Hockey" rule for tonight. No playbooks, no video reviews, and definitely no Julian Vane.

Leo and I shared a small apartment just off-campus. It wasn’t as fancy as our father’s house, but it was ours.

It had a tiny kitchen with a stove that sometimes smelled like gas and a fridge that made a loud humming noise. Tonight, Jaxson was in charge of dinner. He had insisted on cooking for us to say thank you for all the help I had given him with his recovery and my new medical project.

"I’ve got this, Elena. Sit down," Jaxson said, shooing me away from the stove. He was wearing an apron that said World’s Okayest Cook—a joke gift from Leo.

"Jax, the water is boiling over," I pointed out, trying not to laugh.

"It’s supposed to do that! It means it’s hot!" Jaxson yelled back, though he quickly grabbed a wooden spoon to stir the pot.

Leo was sitting at the small wooden table, trying to fix a broken toaster. He looked up and shook his head. "Jax, if you poison us right before the playoffs, I’m stripping you of your jersey. The fans will never forgive you."

"Nobody is getting poisoned," Jaxson muttered. He reached for a box of spaghetti. Instead of gently placing it in the water, he tried to do a cool move where he snapped the dry noodles in half over the pot.

Crack!

Half of the noodles went into the boiling water. The other half flew across the kitchen like tiny wooden arrows. One hit Leo in the forehead.

Another landed in my hair.

"Nice shot, Miller," Leo said, picking a dry noodle off his shirt. "You’ve got great aim. Too bad it’s not for the net."

"Shut up, Leo," Jaxson laughed, his face turning red. He started chasing the stray noodles around the floor. "It’s artisanal pasta now. It’s supposed to be different lengths."

I leaned against the counter, watching him. He looked so happy. He wasn't the Alpha or the Rookie right now. He was just a guy trying to cook a meal for the people he loved. He was messy, he was loud, and he was completely out of his element.

"Where’s the sauce?" I asked, looking at the empty counter.

Jaxson froze. He looked at the pot of boiling water. He looked at the empty sink. Then he looked at the pantry. "I... I thought you had sauce."

Leo groaned, leaning his head back. "Elena, we live with a professional athlete who eats five meals a day. Do you really think there’s 'extra' sauce in this house?"

"I’ll go to the corner store!" Jaxson said, already reaching for his keys.

"No," I said, grabbing his arm. "The store is closed for repairs. I saw the sign this morning."

Jaxson looked defeated. He looked at the plain, white noodles bubbling in the pot. "So... we’re eating plain pasta? For my thank you dinner? That’s pathetic."

"Wait," I said, opening the fridge. I started pulling out random items. A half-empty jar of butter. Some garlic that was starting to sprout. A bag of frozen peas. A block of cheese that was a little bit hard on the edges. "We can make a White Sauce. It’s a medical student specialty. It’s called: Whatever is in the Fridge."

"Is that safe?" Jaxson asked, watching me throw a giant hunk of butter into a frying pan.

"It’s Physiology, Jax," I joked. "Butter is energy. Garlic is an antioxidant. Peas are... green. It’s a perfect meal."

For the next twenty minutes, the kitchen was a disaster zone. Jaxson was in charge of "mincing" the garlic, which mostly involved him smashing it with the bottom of a heavy mug because he couldn't find the right knife.

Leo was in charge of grating the cheese, but he kept eating the pieces instead of putting them in the bowl.

I stood over the pan, stirring the butter and garlic. The smell started to fill the tiny apartment. It didn't smell like a five-star restaurant, but it smelled like home.

"Okay, add the peas!" I commanded.

Jaxson dumped the frozen peas into the pan. They hit the hot butter and started popping like tiny green firecrackers.

"Whoa! Watch out!" Jaxson yelled, jumping back and using a pot lid as a shield.

"It’s just steam, you big baby!" I laughed, pushing him back toward the stove.

By the time we sat down to eat, the kitchen looked like a war had happened. There were noodle fragments on the floor, cheese shavings on the chairs, and a mysterious green stain on Jaxson’s apron.

But when we took our first bites, we all stopped talking.

"Wait," Leo said, chewing slowly. "This is actually... really good?"

"It’s amazing," Jaxson agreed, shoveling a giant forkful into his mouth. "Elena, you’re a genius. Forget being a doctor. You should open a pasta shop."

"I think I’ll stick to the brain scans," I said, smiling at him. "But I’ll keep the recipe."

We sat there for an hour, eating the Broken Pasta and laughing until our stomachs hurt. We didn't talk about the game.

We didn't talk about my father. We talked about the time Leo tried to dye his hair blonde in middle school and it turned orange.

We talked about Jaxson’s first time on the ice when he fell five times in ten minutes.

For those sixty minutes, the world outside didn't exist. We weren't fighting a war against the Vanes. We were just three friends in a messy kitchen, enjoying a meal that shouldn't have worked, but somehow did.

As I looked at Jaxson and Leo, I realized that this was what I was fighting for. It wasn't for the gold lions or the Vance name. It was for these moments. The messy, broken, simple moments that made life worth living.