Even so, I didn’t feel like I was being interrogated. They were friendly enough but intentional about what they asked.
“So,” Michael said once we were seated in the living room, freshly made coffee in our hands. “How’s your hockey game, Callum?”
I lifted my eyebrows at him. “I manage.”
“There’s a rink in town,” he said. “Once I’m off air tomorrow, let’s go there. We’ll call it a tradition.”
I glanced at Matthew, who had been pretty quiet so far, just sipping his coffee as he nodded his agreement. Mason smirked, and I knew the invitation wasn’t really a request.
“Sure,” I said. It wasn’t like I had any other option, and besides, hockey was better than sitting around, trying to convince them I was good enough for Maisie. “That sounds good.”
“Awesome. I’ll be done at nine, so be ready just after that.”
Michelle came back downstairs, giving me a smile that was softer and more genuine than the rest of her family’s. “You’re in Maisie’s old room, Callum. Up the stairs, second door on the right.”
I nodded, finishing my coffee before I said good night and carried my bag up. My heart was thumping, but I’d survived the first couple hours alone with the Morgans and I was still standing. When I opened the door to the room I’d been directed to, Maisie’s childhood bedroom, I nearly burst out laughing.
I didn’t know what I’d expected from her, but it wasn’t this. Girly didn’t even begin to cover it. The walls were a shade of pink so bright, it hurt my eyes. The bedspread was floral patterned, with a mountain of pillows on top that looked like they belonged to a six-year-old.
Framed posters of Olympic divers and college banners lined the walls, and old, dusty but proud trophies sat on the bookshelves. This had been Maisie’s world before she’d gone to college, and it had been preserved like a time capsule.
I dropped my bag on the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. The mattress squeaked under my weight. As I looked around, I wondered if she’d stayed here when she’d been pregnant. I wondered if this was the bed where she’d cried herself to sleep at night after walking away from a dream she’d spent her whole life working toward.
On the other hand, I also wondered if I’d just gotten lucky that her brothers had chosen hockey to test me. Smiling, I got up to check on Brody before I turned in. I decided that I would skate my heart out in that game—then I’d pour it out to her father later in the day.
As always, I was up before the sun the next morning. After a quick shower, I pulled on a sweatshirt and jeans, finding Brody in the living room with a bowl of cereal. Those green eyes found mine and he grinned, already practically buzzing for the day ahead.
“Is it true that you’re playing hockey today?” he asked right off the bat. “Grandpa told me.”
“It’s true, champ,” I said, veering toward the kitchen to grab some coffee. “Do you want to come with us?”
He waited until I got back to the living room before he nodded, but his lips pressed into a pout. “I do, but Grandma said she and I are going to do something together this morning instead. I think she’s going to take me shopping.”
His nose crinkled on the last sentence. I chuckled but grimaced in sympathy. “I’m sure you’ll have fun. Do you want me to talk to her, find out if you can come and I’ll drop you off at the mall later?”
He sighed. “No, it’s okay. She’s also taking me out for breakfast and she said Grandpa and my uncles want to get to know you.”
I wrapped my fingers around my mug and inclined my chin, leaning back on the couch as I gave him a slight smile. “Then don’t eat too much cereal. We won’t be long though, okay? Maybe you and I can hit the ice this afternoon. Depending on their plans.”
A grin spread across his face immediately and my heart swelled. I would have loved to have him with us, and not only because he’d been a great icebreaker and an even better buffer last night. I simply would’ve liked to have been playing with him, too. But I understood it.
This wasn’t just a friendly game. It was a test. A means of taking my measure.
Michelle and Matthew came downstairs, showered and ready for the day themselves, just a few minutes later. They spent most of the early morning with Brody while I got some work done on my phone.
After Michael finished work, he came to pick us up. His SUV rumbling in the drive drew Matthew and me to the porch. Michael grinned like a kid on Christmas morning as he rolled down his window and stuck his head out.
“Are you ready to get your ass handed to you, Westwood?”
And so, it begins.“That depends. Do you play as good as you talk?”
Matthew chuckled as he climbed into the passenger seat. “Simmer down, boys. Save the trash talk for the ice.”
Nerves slithered through me, but I shoved it all away. After all the hockey I’d played in my life, this might just be my most important game and I wasn’t about to let any of them get in my head. We met Mason at the rink and he was already lacing up like he’d been born with skates on his feet.
Michael and I joined him on the ice when we were ready, with Matthew watching from the sidelines. The moment we got underway, I knew I’d been right about this not just being a friendly, family game. It was war—brutal and fast.
Michael had the same kind of speed Brody did, but he also had a mouth to match, calling out plays like he was live on air. “And Callum has the puck and he takes the shot. Oh, that was weak. Someone call an ambulance. That man’s ego is shattered.”
