I look at Tiger. She nods toward the living room. “Go. She likes you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I walk over and take the controller Callum hands me. I sit on the floor next to Zinnia.
She grins at me. “Prepare to lose.”
“Big talk for someone who just learned how to play.”
“I’m a fast learner.”
She is. Within three races, she’s figured out all the shortcuts. By the fifth race, she’s beating Callum consistently.
“This is bullshit,” Callum mutters when she crosses the finish line first again.
“Language,” Tiger calls from the kitchen.
“Sorry. This is bull... crap.”
Zinnia giggles. “You’re just bad at this.”
“I’m not bad. You’re just freakishly good.”
“Jax, are you going to let him talk to me like that?”
I raise an eyebrow. “You are freakishly good.”
“See?” Callum says. “Even Jax agrees.”
“Jax is on my team though. Right, Jax?”
She looks at me with these big eyes. Expectant. Like my answer actually matters.
“Right,” I hear myself say. “We’re a team.”
She beams and turns back to the game.
And I sit there realizing this kid has somehow pulled me into her orbit without even trying.
We play for another hour. Zinnia gets more comfortable with all of us. Laughs louder. Trash talks more.
She gravitates toward me. Asks me questions between races. What position of hockey do I play? Do I score a lot? Am I the best on the team?
“He’s pretty good,” Zephyr says. “When he’s not being a dramatic ass––”
“Language,” Tiger calls again.
Zinnia looks at me. “Are you dramatic?”
“No.”
“He is,” all three of them say in unison.
Even Tiger.
I glare at her. She just smiles and turns back to whatever she’s doing in the kitchen.
