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Jubal’s shoulder presses against mine, abandoning his own screen in favor of reading over my arm. I should probably be offended on Olivia’s behalf, but I’m fighting a smile instead. She hasn’t even arrived yet, and two men who’ve never met her are already being scolded by the veterans.

“Your teammates aren’t allowed near my friend.”

“Pretty sure you’re outnumbered.”

“I have Dad.”

“That might actually work.”

I’m about to remind Archer that Olivia is a human being and not a new toy for the locker room when I realize I haven’t had to tell Easton who she is. I’ve known him since high school, and our parents have been friends for years. I tutored him enough back then that he spent almost as much time at my house as his own, which means he and Olivia already know each other. She came home with me enough during college that Easton crashed more than a few of those visits.

“What?”

I glance over to find Jubal watching me instead of the phone in my hand. “Easton’s being weird.”

His eyebrows lift. “That narrows it down.”

“He hasn’t said anything about Olivia.”

Jubal considers that for a second, then looks back at the chat like it might provide an explanation. Easton has already moved on to arguing with Sullivan about whether offering to help me bake counts as an act of service or an attempt to secure extra cookies.

“Maybe I’m imagining it.” I close the chat before I can spend the rest of the night trying to figure out why Easton Kinkade suddenly discovered restraint. “I’ll interrogate him later.”

I set my phone down, but Thanksgiving has lodged itself somewhere between Olivia arriving on Wednesday and everyone invading Dad’s house the following day. I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to talk to him, and several uninterrupted days together should qualify. Instead of making the knot beneath my ribs loosen, the thought pulls it tighter.

Maybe timing isn’t the problem.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Calliope

“Absolutely not.” Dad’s voice cuts through three conversations at once, carrying the same authority that can shut down an entire practice field without him ever needing to yell.

I look up from my plate and find Archer frozen two seats down with his fork suspended over Whit’s mac and cheese.

“I was just asking.”

Whit stares at the fork hovering inches above his food. “That isn’t how asking works.”

Across the table, Sullivan has stopped eating to watch the entire thing unfold. “Natural selection has been trying to get Archer all season.”

“I’m sitting right here.”

Easton’s laugh explodes beside me, and his shoulder catches mine hard enough to nearly send my wine and the bowl of green beans flying. He catches the bowl while I grab my glass without losing so much as a breath of his laughter.

“Sorry.” He steadies my glass like he had absolutely nothing to do with almost spilling it. “Sully’s funny.”

I stare at him until his grin gets wider. “So I should blame Sullivan because you have no control over your own body?”

“Obviously.”

“Leave me out of this,” Sullivan says, already reaching for his drink. “I’m trying to eat.”

Olivia’s knee presses against mine beneath the table as she leans closer and whispers in my ear. “I thought you were exaggerating.”

“About which part?”

She glances toward Archer before looking around the table. “All of this.”