Lucas Kai "Luke" Donovan

Lucas sat at the long oak table in the Malibu mansion dining room, the one that overlooked the Pacific like it was showing off on purpose. The sun was dipping low outside, painting everything gold, and the whole place smelled like his mom’s lasagna and the garlic bread she always burned a little on purpose because his dad liked it that way.

He had Ivy right next to him, their knee brushing his under the table every few seconds, and fuck if that didn’t make everything feel right. These family dinners were his favorite shit, always had been. No press, no teammates, no fake-ass parties. Just his parents being normal rich people who still hugged him like he was ten, and Ivy getting pulled into the fold like they’d always belonged here.

Jordan, his mom, kept piling seconds onto everyone’s plates with that big grin. “Eat, eat, you two look like you’ve been living on protein shakes and campus coffee again.” She winked at Ivy, the same wink she gave Lucas when he was little and trying to sneak extra dessert. Luigi, his dad, sat at the head like the king he technically was, tie loosened, laughing at his own bad jokes while he poured more wine. “Your mother’s right. Hockey boys need carbs, and Ivy needs to keep up with this giant you’re dating. Pass the bread, son.”

Lucas grinned, reaching over to squeeze Ivy’s hand under the table for like the tenth time. He loved this. Loved how his parents had basically adopted Ivy from day one, no side-eye, no “are they good enough for our heir” bullshit. Just straight-up “hey kid, welcome to the chaos.”

Everything was chill. They were talking about the upcoming Iron Fangs game against Reino dos Legados, his dad giving him the usual “kick their scholarship asses but play clean” speech that Lucas ignored because he always played dirty when it counted. His mom was asking Ivy about classes, laughing at the stories, the kind of laugh that made the whole room lighter. Lucas kept stealing glances at Ivy, that easy smile on his face, thumb rubbing circles on their knuckles because he couldn’t stop touching them even here.

Then his mom dropped it. Casual as fuck, like she was asking about the weather. “So when are you two giving us grandbabies? The house feels too quiet without little feet running around. I miss the chaos, tiny King monsters tearing up the beach and demanding ice cream at midnight.” She said it while scooping more lasagna onto her plate, smiling like it was the most normal thing in the world, eyes sparkling at both of them.

Lucas choked. Hard. The bite of garlic bread he’d just shoved in his mouth went down the wrong pipe and he started coughing like a damn idiot, face turning redder than the marinara sauce. His mismatched eyes watered, one hazel and one green bugging out while he pounded his own chest. “Mom... what the fuck...” he wheezed between hacks, trying to breathe and not die right there at the table.

Luigi burst out laughing, that deep belly laugh that shook his shoulders and made the wine glasses rattle. “Look at him! Face like a tomato. Jordana, you broke the boy!” He slapped the table, grinning wide, pointing at Lucas with his fork. “Twenty-two years old and still can’t handle the baby talk. Classic.”

Lucas finally got air back, but his cheeks stayed flaming. He could feel the heat crawling up his neck, right under the tattoos that disappeared into his collar. Fuck. This was not the conversation he wanted tonight. Not with Ivy right there, not when they hadn’t even, shit. He wiped his mouth with the napkin, trying to play it cool but failing because his ears were burning too.

“Mom, come on,” he groaned, voice cracking a little from the coughing fit. He shot her a look that was half embarrassed, half “please shut up” while still trying to keep it light. “You can’t just drop that like it’s nothing. We haven’t even talked about it yet, Jesus Christ, give us a minute to finish dinner before you start planning the nursery.” He ran a hand through his messy blond hair, messing it up worse, the clingy part of him wanting to hide his face in Ivy’s shoulder but he stayed put because running away would just make it funnier for his dad.

Jordana just laughed softer, reaching over to pat his arm like he was still her little boy “What? I’m just saying! You two are adorable together. And this big house? Perfect for grandkids. Your father and I are getting old, Lucas. We want tiny versions of you sliding down the banister again.”

Luigi was still chuckling, wiping tears from his eyes. “She’s got a point, son. I’ve got the trust fund ready for college already. But hey, no pressure, unless you want me to start buying tiny hockey sticks next week.”

Lucas’s face went even hotter, if that was possible. He shifted in his seat, long legs bumping Ivy’s under the table on accident, and he quickly laced their fingers tighter because touching them was the only thing keeping him from melting into the floor. “Dad, you’re not helping. Mom, seriously, stop. We’re still in college, I’ve got the team, Ivy’s got their shit, we’re not... we haven’t even had that conversation, okay? Like, at all.”

He turned his head toward Ivy then, those heterochromia eyes locking on theirs with pure “save me” written all over them.