Page 350 of The Lies We Play

Dinner becomes exactly what I hoped and feared it would be.

Loud. Warm. Too much.

Dad serves food like he’s feeding an army. Vesper argues with him about garlic. Luther and Callaway debate a penalty from last season with the intensity of men who both know they’re wrong but have no intention of confessing. Monty cuts food into tiny pieces for Vienna and listens more than he talks. Liv refills Sable’s water without asking. Halston sits beside me, taking it all in.

After dinner, when everyone has shifted into the living room, and Vienna is asleep against Cally’s shoulder, Luther finds me near the windows facing the lake.

The house behind us is full of voices.

Liv is on the couch with Vesper, holding a mug of tea like she has been given an official role. Halston is near the fireplace with Dad and Monty, listening while Dad tells a story about my rookie year that I know for a fact is slander.

Luther stands beside me.

For a while, neither of us speaks.

Then he says, “Is it really that easy?”

I look at him. “Winning faceoffs? No. You’re still bad at those.”

He doesn’t smile.

So, I stop.

“What?”

He nods toward the room. Toward Liv. Toward Halston. Toward Vesper leaning against Callaway, while Monty adjusts the blanket over her knees without interrupting his conversation.

“This,” Luther says. “Loving more than one person. Making it a life.”

I glance at him.

His face is turned toward the glass, but he isn’t looking at the lake.

“I don’t know,” he adds before I can ask. “I have friends. People I care about—nothing serious. Sometimes I look at what Ves has, and now what you have, and I think maybe there’s something there that I never let myself want because it seemed impossible.”

I let that sit.

Luther doesn’t hand people vulnerable sentences often. When he does, you don’t fumble them.

“It isn’t easy,” I say.

He nods like he expected that.

“It takes work. It takes brutal honesty. It takes more talking than any athlete should legally be required to do. It takes jealousy showing up and not letting it drive the car. It takes everyone choosing the relationship, even when one part of it feels harder than the others.”

Luther looks at me then. “But it’s possible?”

Across the room, Liv laughs at something Vesper says. Halston turns toward the sound before he thinks about it, like her laugh has a claim on his nervous system. Then his eyes find mine, and something in his face settles when he sees me looking back.

I look at my brother.

“It’s possible,” I say. “Not because it’s simple. Because the right people make the work worth it.”

Luther exhales.

As if he has been given permission to consider a door he never touched.

Behind us, Dad calls, “Dessert.”