There it is. That was the reaction I expected.

Ben has a black eye from an ice hockey match that his team won. A blue environmental tee is tight on his toned build, with the slogan: don’t be a fossil fool.

“Still bitter, brother?” Eliot asks.

Ben lets out a heavy breath. “He ate rabbit hearts.” He’s talking like I’m not here. Which isn’t fucking good.

Tom twirls a knife. “We’re about to eat goose.”

Beckett looks to Ben next to him. “And you don’t hate us.”

I can’t tell if they’re defending me or just trying to steer their brother towards a better emotion. But I know Jane has said that Ben is usually fine when other people eat meat around him.

“It’s different. That situation felt different,” Ben emphasizes.

Jane lifts a finger. “I also ate rabbit hearts.”

“You wouldn’t have if Thatcher didn’t. He can perish in one of Mom’s great and terrible fires for all I care. Let him burn alive.”

I wait for the sting, but that blow never comes. His words aren’t a shot to the heart or head. I’m not even surprised that he’s still upset about this.

He’s sixteen. He’s a Cobalt. He’s dramatic, and I’m just honored to be here and understand how this family operates.

No holding back. No holding in.

Let it all out.

“Pippy,” Jane starts.

“He ate some rabbit hearts,” Charlie snaps. “Get the fuck over it, Ben.”

Ben stands up abruptly from his chair. I follow suit, careful not to startle the kitten, and I hold out a hand. “It’s fine.”

But Ben is looking at his empty plate. He’s grinding down on his teeth and trying to stop himself from crying.

“You can hate me,” I say with severity. “I don’t need you to like me right now. Or a year from now or ten years. Just when you’re ready, I hope you can give me a chance.”

Ben slowly takes a seat. And quietly, he says, “You’re here. This is your chance.”

Tonight.

Don’t fucking nuke it.

I lower back down, a hand to my breast pocket (to the kitten), and Jane leans into my shoulder. “He’s going to warm up to you.”

It’s weird to think that I know it’s okay if he doesn’t.

Charlie rests his ass on the edge of the table. Turned towards me, he hoists a single lion-decaled card between two fingers. “Here’s your last one.”

My last one.

That hits me hard. For a long time, I thought this game might be never-ending. That they’d keep filling up the deck every time it got low.

It’s over.

Almost.

He stretches and passes me the card.

I take it from Charlie and flip it over. Words stare back at me. I read them.

And reread them.

Five times to make sure I’m reading it right.

Tom grins sitting on the top of his chair, his black trench coat long enough to sweep the floor—a thousand-and-fucking-one patches sewn crudely in the fabric. He opens and closes a Zippo lighter.

He knows what this says. All her brothers and her sister do.

They were all in on the game. Not just Charlie.

I read out loud, “‘Tell us why you belong in the family without referencing Jane.’”

It might be the hardest thing this game has ever thrown my way.

Jane is the reason I am sitting at this table, but she’s not going to be the reason I fit into this family. I have to do that on my own.

Weighing my words, I glance between each of her siblings. All six are so different from the next. Years ago, I think I would’ve said I fit in better with the Hales, or even the Meadows, but there’s not a shred of doubt now.

I’m where I’m supposed to be. I just have to find a way to articulate it.

I’m quiet for a beat, and Beckett meets my gaze. Dark brown hair slicked back and in a casual white crewneck, he takes a drag of a cigarette between leather-gloved fingers.

“You have to answer,” Beckett says kindly. No hint of animosity or resentment in his voice. Even after he came home to find his role replaced in Cinderella by Leo Valavanis. But according to Jane, the company is starting to audition parts for next season’s production of Romeo & Juliet.

Beckett is in contention for Romeo. And so is Leo.

You have to answer.

I nod strongly. “I know.” And I drop my arm from Jane’s chair, and with zero doubt, zero hesitation, I stand.

Not afraid to tower.

Not afraid of anything.

“I belong here,” I start. And then I look at her on instinct.

Jane smiles up at me with sky-high confidence.

My chest rises, and I look around at her family who I hope will one day be mine. “I belong here,” I say again, “because I love deeply and I’m learning to feel deeply too, and I make no apologies for who I am.”

Jane is beaming, glassy-eyed with hands to her lips.

I continue, “And at the end of the day, the people I care about are the ones I would die for. No questions asked. I’m standing at the battle line.” Say more. Say what you feel, and I just go. “You’re a family of warriors—I’m a warrior too. We just have different weapons. You use words. I use a gun. And ever since I was a young kid, I wanted to be that Spartan hero for someone. I belong here. Not anywhere else.”

Not because of Jane. But because when it comes down to it, I’m a fucking lion.

I’m a shark.

For the first time, I really believe I’m the same as them.

Not saying a word, Charlie stretches forward and plucks the card from my hand. He extends his arm across the table. Passing the thing to Eliot, who holds the card over Tom’s lighter.

A flame incinerates the paper.

I thought I’d want their applause or approval at the end of this. But standing here, I realize, I don’t need that recognition or their validation. I feel good about who I am and what I completed.

“That’s it?” I ask Charlie.

He nods. “Congratulations. Some of us still hate you. Some of us like you. Others don’t give a shit. And yet, you’re still here.”

I’m still here.

My mouth curves upward, and I nod once. The game was never designed for me to win them over like I thought.

It was designed for them to push my limits. To tap into unapologetic confidence. To survive a battle.

I’m still here.

I’m back in my seat next to Jane, and she gathers my hand in hers. “You’re amazing, you realize.”

I kiss her knuckles before wrapping an arm around her shoulder, and I lean in to whisper, “I love you, Jane Eleanor Cobalt.”

I hear her sharp breath. She’s about to reply, but Tom points at me with a steak knife. “What’s its name anyway?” He means the kitten.

I watch the tabby stretch a paw mid-sleep. “Jane usually picks the person who’ll name her cats.”

She rests her chin on her knuckles. “Our cats.”

Our cats.

I hang onto that declaration.

Looks like I’m a father of six—now seven—cats. This is bigger than Jane asking me to marry her. These cats are her babies, and she’s sharing them with me.

Happiness isn’t in the same stratosphere to the raw emotion that’s balled up inside my chest. I block out the mental image of my brother ribbing me about being a cat dad.

Jane rubs the top of the kitten’s head with her thumb. “And you found each other. You should pick her name.”

I already have a name for her, and everyone here will give me shit for it. So I just say, “LJ.”

“LJ?” Jane frowns for a second.

“I love it.” Audrey adjusts her bonnet.

“You don’t even know what it stands for, Audrey.” Eliot grins, deviously. “It could be something horrible like Lube—”

Jane cuts him off in French, and I recognize a couple words. The ones that mean little devil.

I make a call and decide to rip this Band-Aid fast.

“LJ is short for Little Jane.”

Silence layers across the table before Tom and Eliot explode into laughter. Ben and Audrey pound the table with their fists, and almost everyone drums the ground with their feet. Charlie clinks his glass with the back of a knife.

Living breathing noise rumbling around us.

“They love it,” Jane explains to me. “As do I.”

I’m constantly in awe of her, and now, I’m in awe of her family. More orderly but disordered sound reverberates and floods the room when Rose and Connor arrive hand-in-hand.

Tags: Krista Ritchie Like Us Romance
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