I felt Tino’s arm tighten around me slightly. “I don’t know if this is the right environment.”
Sloane laughed. “You’re sitting at a bonfire with five musicians. This is exactly the environment.”
Zach held the guitar out in offer.
“Oh no,” Tino said immediately.
“Yes,” Luca said, delighted. “Absolutely.”
Part of me wanted to tell him off for making fun of my boyfriend—fake boyfriend—but this was pretty much a Turner family tradition. Not to mention I’d never heard Tino sing solo (I’d unfortunately been subjected to the boys’ group karaoke) and I was curious.
Tino glanced down at the guitar like it might bite him. “Just so we’re clear, I play hockey. That’s my thing.”
Neil smirked. “That’s not going to save you.”
Tino sighed, adjusting the guitar on his knee. He strummed once. It sounded… fine. Not great. Not terrible. Honestly, I was impressed that he could play any chords at all. Then he started to sing. It wasn’t bad, exactly. It just wasn’t… good. His pitch wavered, his timing was off, and he kept glancing at me like he was trying not to laugh at himself.
Grace gasped dramatically. “Oh my God.”
“Is he doing this on purpose?” Neil asked.
Zach winced. “I respect the confidence.”
Tino finished the song with a flourish that suggested he was well aware of how it had gone. He handed the guitar back immediately.
“There,” he said. “I did it.”
Luca wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “That was… an experience.”
Tino pointed at him. “I’d like to see you on skates.”
The teasing moved on, replaced by stories—tour mishaps, school disasters, moments that had grown funnier with time. Someone passed around marshmallows and chocolate, and Nina reappeared with graham crackers like she’d been summoned by the word “s’mores” alone.
At some point, someone started singing again—this time together, harmonies blending easily. I recognized the song almost immediately, a Take Five chorus floating into the night, soft and familiar.
Tino didn’t sing this time. Instead, he listened. I glanced up at him, expecting boredom or polite tolerance, but his expression surprised me. He was watching everyone with quiet interest, eyes warm, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
He looked down at me. “Yeah. Just… this is nice.”
Something in his tone made my chest ache.
I followed his gaze as it drifted over the group—Grace leaning against Neil, Ivy laughing with Zach, Megan tucked under Hudson’s arm, Nina and Finn sharing a blanket like they didn’t even notice anyone else was there.
My family. My world.
And Tino was sitting in the middle of it like he’d always been meant to.
The bonfire burned lower, the flames settling into a steady, glowing rhythm instead of the earlier wild crackling. Someone added another log, and sparks lifted briefly into the air before fading into the dark. I found myself tucked more securely against Tino’s side without remembering how it happened.
At some point, Nina passed around mismatched mugs of hot chocolate, insisting it was tradition even though I was fairly certain it was something she’d invented a couple of weeks ago. Megan dragged a blanket from somewhere—no one knew where it came from, only that it was enormous and smelled faintly like smoke and fabric softener—and insisted on piling it over everyone sitting closest to the fire. It ended up covering Tino, me, part of Neil, and one of Hudson’s legs.
“This is a fire hazard,” Hudson said mildly.
Megan beamed. “So is your personality.”
I laughed, the sound easy and unguarded, and felt Tino’s chest move under my cheek as he laughed too. His arm tightened briefly around my shoulders, not possessive, not performative—just instinctive, like he was anchoring himself there.
