Page 348 of The Lies We Play

Dad pulls back and grips Halston’s shoulder. “Creed tells me you’re a lawyer.”

“I was.”

“Still are,” Liv says immediately.

Halston looks at her.

She lifts her chin. “You passed the bar ten years ago, and you’re not surrendering your profession because your family weaponized paperwork. I have a whole argument prepared, with citations.”

Dad laughs. “They’ll fit in.”

“I told you,” I say.

“You told me many things. Most of them were emotional and poorly organized.” Dad says.

“That’s slander.”

“That’s parenting.”

Luther appears behind Dad with a beer in one hand and Sable pressed against his leg, her leash looped loose around his wrist like she’s the one allowing him to be there. My brother is still built like the sport owed him money, dark hair, hard jaw, Lafontaine eyes that make people behave. Sable is a Bernese Mountain Dog, all glossy black coat, rust-colored brows, and white chest, watching the room with the grave concern of someone who has never once approved of human decision-making.

“Creed,” Luther says, pulling me into a hug with one arm because Vienna is still on my hip.

Sable sniffs my shoe, then Liv’s, then Halston’s, and sits directly in front of Halston like she has selected him for inspection.

Halston looks down at her.

“She’s beautiful,” he says.

The corner of Luther’s mouth twitches. “Careful. She knows and then will try to get food from you.”

Sable places one paw on Halston’s shoe.

Liv presses her lips together, clearly trying not to smile. “I think you’ve been claimed.”

Halston’s face softens in that tiny, almost-private way that still knocks something loose in me. “Apparently.”

Luther reaches for Halston’s hand. “Welcome.”

Halston takes it, Sable still parked on his shoe like an oath with fur.

Luther studies him for a second.

Then he says, “Creed was happier after he found you two again.”

Halston’s throat moves once.

Liv glances at me like, “Is your entire family terrifyingly direct?”

I give her a look back. “Yes. And you married into it emotionally, so good luck.”

The front door opens again.

“We’re here,” Callaway calls, voice filling the house before the rest of him does. “The winners have arrived.”

Monty’s voice follows, lower and drier. “Don’t say winners like that. It’s embarrassing.”

“You shut out your brother-in-law. Let me enjoy this, babe.”