Page 156 of End Game

The change in Ronan is subtle, but I see it. His shoulders loosen, and within a minute they’re talking about campaigns, classes, and how long Shawn has been without a regular group.

“Probably a couple of years now,” Shawn admits. “I’ve played a few one-shots, but nothing consistent.”

“You could guest sometime,” Ronan offers. “If you’re interested.”

Shawn’s dimples appear. “Seriously?”

“Sure.”

Alexis slides beside him. “I told you they wouldn’t think you were weird.”

“I never said they’d think I was weird,” he counters, still smiling.

“Does Alexis play?” Dex calls from a few feet away.

“No,” Shawn answers.

“Yes,” Alexis says at the same time.

He looks at her.

She shrugs. “You know I have, and I could again.”

Ronan’s expression becomes thoughtful in a way I recognize far too well.

He’s already building a storyline for them to joint he campaign in his head.

God help us.

The dining room table is giant, glass-topped, and somehow makes seating eleven people look perfectly normal.

Food passes family-style between us—some kind of chicken, roasted vegetables, potatoes, bread, salad—and conversation shifts constantly as dishes move and people talk across each other.

It’s loud.

Not chaotic.

Just alive.

At some point, Carter asks what we’re doing for Christmas, and the five of us collectively groan.

Alexis laughs. “That bad?”

“We just spent a lot of time figuring it out,” I tell her. “And there are only five of us—it’s probably worse with six.”

“Calendars do help,” Holden offers.

“Calendars are essential,” Ronan confirms.

Alexis makes a face.

I catch it. “What?”

She laughs. “Nothing. Just be careful.”

Ronan tilts his head. “Of calendars?”

“Of turning your relationships into them,” Alexis answers.