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“A good whiskey. Not a good wine. I’ll ask someone there.”
“They’ll just try to rip you off. Especially if they recognize you.”
“I’ll take the risk.”
“Let’s hope we don’t all suffer for it,” my uncle muses to himself and then disconnects the line.
I’m not exactly looking forward to going out in public around here yet. Up until a few weeks ago, I played quarterback for the biggest rival team this city has ever known. They hate any player who wears the jersey, and they hate the quarterback twice as much. Coming to play here is signing up to be a traitor, and they hate me for that too. I’m fairly certain it’s going to be an uphill battle just to not get booed on my first walk onto the field opening day.
But then, I have a glimmer of hope. I can’t help the small smile that forms as I think about her—Madison Westfield. I can only assume she hates my guts since we haven’t spoken in ten years, but she’s made a name for herself in sports PR. She’sa miracle worker and a fixer, which is exactly what I need right now. Someone who can take me from most-hated to most-loved in this city. I just worry that when they tell her I’m her new assignment, she’s going to resign immediately.
When I getto my uncle’s house, one of the twins answers the door. It’s been near-impossible to tell them apart in the past, but they’ve got enough scars from fights on the ice now that even if their hair wasn’t different, I’d still know.
“Hey, Callum.” I greet my cousin when he answers.
“Hey.” He nods to me, opening the door and letting me in.
“Your dad around?”
“Out on the grill. I can take the wine.”
“Thanks.” I hand it to him and follow him toward the kitchen. “How’s the big leagues treating you?” Callum and Cillian were both drafted to pro hockey teams a few years back, and I haven’t seen them since they started playing.
“The big leagues.” He smirks and lets out a little laugh. “Not bad. How’s coming to your own personal hell treating you?”
“Hot so far.”
Cillian’s sitting at the counter in the kitchen peeling garlic, and he nods to me, while his sister Winter and her mother, Elaina, are working at the stove. Winter turns around and smiles when she sees me.
“My favorite older cousin!” She closes the distance between us and throws her arms around me.
“I’m your only older cousin.”
“And therefore, my favorite.” She grins. “How are you? Surviving? Dad was worried they might murder you in the streets once they found out you’re here.”
“Just a few stab wounds on the way here. Still breathing.” I grin back at her.
“I’m glad you came.” Elaina smiles at me. She and my uncle David took me in as a teenager when my mom decided the latest guy she was dating promised a better life than the one she had here. She dropped me off at their door and took off for California. After a very short stint living with my grandparents, I was back with them and they were stuck raising a bitter asshole of a teenager at the same time they were raising their own young kids. It’d been trial by fire for all of us, but we managed to come out feeling somewhat like a family in the end. I lean over and hug her, and she kisses my cheek.
“Me too. Smells amazing, whatever it is.”
“Fettuccini alfredo. Dave’s grilling steaks outside, Winter’s working on a salad, and Callum and Cillian are theoretically making garlic bread.” Elaina eyes both of them like they’re too slow for their own good.
“No Casimir?” I ask; the youngest of the four is the most elusive. He’s been playing professional soccer in Europe for the last couple of years but allegedly was back stateside for a short while.
“Not tonight. Hopefully, in town soon. Would love to have all of you under one roof again for a night before the summer’s over.” Elaina smiles at me.
“Don’t get your hopes up too high, Mother. Caz never likes to be pinned down, and I’m sure they’re sharpening the pitchforks for Quen as we speak.” Winter flashes me another devious smile and then resumes chopping the salad.
“Might need your knife skills on my side. You hire out for private blade work?” I raise a brow at her. Winter’s a professional fencer, and while I don’t understand a lot about the sport, she has enough medals to make it clear she’d probably be the first person you want on your side if the zombie apocalypse ever came around.
“Very funny, Cousin.”
“I thought so.” I shrug. “I’d better go see Coach.”
“He’s in a mood today,” Winter warns.
“He’s in a mood every day,” I answer as I head out the back door.
