Page 349 of The Lies We Play

“I hate both of you,” I call.

Callaway appears first, all grin and damp hair, wearing an Orcas hoodie and the specific expression of a man who knows he ruined my night and enjoyed it. Monty comes in behind him, quieter, eyes moving through the room the way goalies always assess exits, people, energy, danger. Then he sees Vesper.

He stops assessing.

She walks to them with Vienna reaching out from my arms.

“Da,” Vienna says, apparently deciding this entire group of men shares one job title.

Monty’s face changes first. Softens into something private as he takes her from me. “Hi, little Vee.”

Callaway kisses Vesper’s cheek, then Vienna’s head, then points at me. “Tough luck.”

I stare at him. “Do not start.”

“You were robbed,” Liv says firmly.

Callaway points at her. “I like her. Welcome to the family.”

Halston says, “Monty was better.”

I turn to him. “You live with me.”

“I value accuracy.”

Monty comes over after handing Vienna back to Cally. He hugs me first, which is suspicious because he never starts with affection unless he’s done something awful or is about to. “Good game.”

“You stole a goal from me.”

“I did.”

“You feel good about that?”

“Fucking amazing.”

“At least pretend to be conflicted.”

“Leave my husband alone,” Cally glares at me. Then he turns to Liv and Halston.

“Livia,” he says with a nod, but Vesper elbows him.

“Use manners.” Monty sighs and hugs Liv carefully.

Liv pats his back. “You’re very tall and emotionally intimidating. I respect the brand.”

Monty looks at me. “She’s funny.”

“She’s mine,” I say.

“Ours,” Halston corrects, quiet and immediate.

Callaway smiles, softer now. “Damn right.”

Then he opens his arms to Halston as if there is no possibility that Halston won’t accept the hug. Halston hesitates. Callaway waits with a grin, patient in his own impossible way.

Halston steps in.

Callaway hugs him, slaps his back once, then says near his ear, “Welcome to the terrifyingly codependent hockey-family side of this operation.”