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Landry immediately answered. “Because men with concussions don’t cook.”

“That’s not a real rule.”

“It is today.”

Jace’s laughter echoed from the kitchen. Sawyer teased Soren about what qualified as a soup container. Landry bounced Hope on her hip while the flowers sat on the kitchen counter.

“You’re stuck with us, you know,” Landry said.

I laughed. “Yeah.”

I’d never thought those words could make me feel safe, but they did. It sounded like the safest place I’d ever been.

Sixty-One

Cali

By nine o’clock, Lane had decided being concussed meant he was entitled to exactly zero adult supervision—except mine.

“You’re staying.”

I glanced up from fluffing the blankets on his couch. “On your couch.”

He gave me a look that said he had already decided the argument was over.

“No.”

“You need rest.”

“Exactly.”

I waited for him to realize how ridiculous he sounded. The bandage at his temple should have made him look less attractive; instead, he looked unfairly handsome and entirely too pleased with himself.

“I’m sleeping here.”

“The couch is uncomfortable.”

“It is literally your couch.”

“Exactly. I know how uncomfortable it is.”

From the entryway, Jace called out that he was tired of listening to adults argue and was heading back to the farm on Lane’s ATV. Smart kid.

“Cali.” The way he said my name should have come with a warning label.

Arms crossed, I shook my head. “No.”

“Please.”

I blinked.

“You’re weaponizing your concussion.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

For exactly three seconds, he looked offended. Then the corner of his mouth lifted. “Maybe a little.”