“Don’t you mean yourteamwins?” Kristina nods from Cal to me.
“That’s right.” Callum wraps one arm around me, and my face floods with warmth. “You probably shouldn’t mess with us.”
Tiffany rolls her eyes—man, she has that gesture down. “You weren’t supposed to give yourself away, Fran. And saving Callum every time just made sure the murderer won.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Sorry.”
“Simmer down, Tiff,” Callum says. “It was her first time playing.”
“Callum’s right,” Kristina says. “It’s just a game.”
Tiff huffs. “Sorry, Fran. We can play again tomorrow night, and you’ll know better.”
Asher falls to the side, onto this father. “Nooo. I’m not playing this again.”
Kristina just smiles and shakes her head. “I’m ready for bed, family. Love you.”
There’s a chorus of “Love you, Mom” that makes my throat clench.
“Okay, then,” Brady says, jumping to his feet.
“Help yourself to anything in the kitchen,” Kristina tells me.
I nod and watch as Brady wheels his wife to the end of the long stairway that leads to the hall with Callum’s bedroom. He lifts his wife from her chair, and she wraps one arm around his neck.
“’Night, Mom!” Tiff calls.
“’Night, babies,” Kristina says before resting her head against Brady. I can’t look away. I watch as Brady carries his wife up the stairway. I watch until they disappear from sight.
“It’s late. I’m headed up too,” Kailey says.
“Are you tired?” Callum asks me.
I nod, feeling for the first time a little out of place in this family home.
“Gah! Don’t leave me here with just Asher,” Tiffany says to her older siblings.
Callum ruffles her head on his way past her. “It’s late, Tiff. We have to help Mom in the morning.”
She groans while dragging herself over to the stairs.
Callum’s room has a bathroom attached, which makes changing and getting ready for bed a little less uneasy. It’s possible I did not think this through. Maybe I should have let Callum bunk with one of his siblings.
There’s a blanket and pillow on the floor when I exit the bathroom in my sweat shortsand T-shirt.
“It’s a big bed.” I swallow. “You can take one side, and I’ll take the other.”
“Not a chance,” he says, breathing out a curt laugh.
My brow wrinkles.
“I just mean, the floor will be fine.”
“Okay.” I slip beneath the sheets of Callum Whitaker’s bed. I am sleeping in a Reno-Tesoro Red Tails bed tonight. That’s something I never thought I’d say.
“Goodnight, Fran,” he says as he disappears onto the floor and out of my sight.
“Goodnight, Cal.” I stare up at the dim ceiling, thinking about Callum’s family, about his parents. They have a love story, a beautiful one—one that I’d really like to know. “Cal,” I say.
