Micah clutches his chest. “How dare you walk into this sacred space uninitiated.”
“We’ll fix that,” I say, grabbing a controller and tossing it towardhim. He fumbles the catch, nearly drops it, but laughs at himself. “You’re on my team.”
“Wait, wait,” Will says, already unboxing the popcorn machine. “We’re doing teams?”
“Of course we are,” I say, grabbing the pizza from Colton and setting it on the coffee table. “Four-way Battle Royale. Winner gets to pick their next partner. Loser has to film a TikTok with Will.”
Will groans. “Why am I the punishment?”
“You post inspirational thirst traps,” I deadpan.
Ty starts passing out plates. “Alright, warm-up round. Let’s see if the new guy can survive.”
Quinn sits cross-legged on the floor between Daniel and me, eyes flicking to the screen like he’s prepping for war. “If I lose, are you kicking me out?”
Max looks horrified. “If they put up with me,the Grinch, I’m sure you’ll be golden.”
And just like that, the room erupts again—laughing, shouting, someone already throwing popcorn.
For the first time in months, I’m not thinking about what’s missing. I’m not thinking about Silas.
I’m justhere—in the chaos and laughter, in the wild mess of people who never stopped showing up for me.
And it feels like coming home.
“I’m choosing Yoshi,” Quinn says confidently.
“Of course you are,” Max groans. “You’ve got Yoshi energy. Bet you’re polite on the road too.”
“I use my blinker,” Quinn says, straight-faced.
“That’s disgusting,” Micah mutters. “You don’t belong here.”
“Micah drives like a GTA NPC,” Colton adds, casuallyleaning back against the couch. “Once saw him clip a mailbox and just keep going.”
“It wasaggressivelyin my way, and we were late for Sunday dinner,” Micah argues.
Will, already two slices deep, wipes his mouth and points at the screen. “Can we focus, please? I’m about to ruin all of you.”
“You say that every time,” Daniel says.
“And Idoruin you. Emotionally.”
“You cried when Micah blue-shelled you last week,” Ty chimes in.
“That was a betrayal,” Will says. “We had an alliance.”
“There are no alliances inMario Kart,” Colton says ominously. “Only suffering.”
Quinn, wide-eyed, whispers, “What have I gotten myself into?”
“A found family and deeply competitive trauma,” I say with a grin, bumping his shoulder with mine. “Welcome to the team.”
The next round starts, and it’s instant carnage. Popcorn goes flying. Someone (probably Micah) elbows me in the ribs during a particularly vicious turn. Max is cackling like a Disney villain. Daniel’s shouting, “WHY IS THE COW LEVEL SO SLIPPERY?!”
“I’m just driving in the grass,” Quinn says, frowning at his controller. “Is that bad?”
“You’ve been disqualified,” Ty deadpans. “Hand in your controller and your hopes.”
