Page 144 of End Game

“You all know that at Thanksgiving I basically told my family that we were all wrapped up together, without getting very specific,” Griffin explains.

“How much do you think your mom really knows?” Cami asks.

“I don’t know.” Griffin gives her a conciliatory look. “She didn’t exactly ask for a diagram.”

Dex raises his hand. “I can make one.”

“No,” all four of us say together.

He lowers his hand slowly. “Hostile work environment.”

Cami laughs, but it fades as she starts picking at the hem of her sweater. “Clay offered to come.”

Griffin’s attention shifts completely to her. “For Christmas?”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, no. When I talk to my parents.” Her gaze moves around the room, touching each of us before returning to Griffin. “About you. And maybe… some of the rest.”

The room quiets enough I can hear the faint electrical hum of all the Christmas lights.

“You don’t have to do that before Christmas,” Griffin says, his voice softer now.

“I know.”

“And you don’t have to do all of it at once.”

“I know that too.”

Her fingers twist tighter into the fabric of her sweater until Griffin reaches down and covers them with his.

“I think I want to,” she says.

Before any of us can respond, Ronan’s phone rings.

He glances at the screen, and something in his expression closes.

Probably not enough that anyone who didn’t know him would catch it. I do.

“My mom,” he says before walking toward the kitchen to answer.

The rest of us pretend not to listen.

We’re terrible at it.

“Yes, of course I know Christmas is next week,” he says.

Dex picks up a box of ornaments and becomes deeply interested in rearranging them. Cami sits on the couch with Griffin beside her, playing with Christmas lights. I keep my attention on the garland still tangled around my hands.

Ronan goes quiet for several seconds.

Then his voice changes. “Is Ben going to be there?”

The room feels quieter, even though none of us change where we are or what we’re doing.

But that’s the strange thing about living with people long enough.

You learn how loud the quiet can be.

I can barely see Ronan through the kitchen entryway. He has his back to us, one hand holding his phone, the other pressed flat against the kitchen counter.