"I am not ready to raise a kid."
"No one's signing you up for a Father of the Year award."
The universe is made of stories. And Maeve Fluer-Reyes had her own.
With pictured misfits in her life, the twelve-year-old was up for anything as long as she...
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MAEVE FLUER-REYES
I had always been good at games. Sixth sense, fast reflexes, and set hands made sure of that. But Caleb? Caleb was relentless.
"Admit it, you're scared," He taunted, hammering the arcade buttons like they owed him money. The bright screen flickered against his face, highlighting the smug grin plastered there. His voice, though, had that edge of competitive fire. Ego.
I scoffed, rolling my shoulders and loosening up. "Scared? Please." A quick flick of the joystick and a flurry of button presses sent his fighter tumbling across the screen. Caleb's health bar took a satisfying hit. "I think I'm doing just fine."
"Lucky shot," He muttered through gritted teeth, his brows knitting together in fierce concentration. He squared his stance, leaning closer to the console as if proximity might improve his game. "Alright, let's go again."
I bit back a grin. "Oh, we're going again."
Being Reese and Vincent's kid practically demanded that he showed up loud, fearless, and impossible to ignore. At thirteen, he carried himself as if he had something to prove, especially when he thought he was winning.
Spoiler alert: He wasn't.
"Hey!" Emmett's voice broke through the whir of beeping machines and Caleb's frustrated button-mashing. He was leaning casually against one of the nearby consoles, arms crossed, and an infuriatingly amused smile plastered across his face. "Are we still pretending this is friendly competition, or should I start placing bets?"
I shot him a side glance. "If you're betting," I said, landing another blow on Caleb's fighter. "You should put your money on me."
The final hit came with a triumphant chime from the game. Caleb's character crumpled in defeat, and his health bar hit zero.
The loser groaned, throwing himself dramatically against some support like he'd been taken out for real. "Unfair!"
"Unfair?" I spread my arms wide in mock innocence, tilting my head. "You just got outplayed."
Caleb slid down the wall. "Rematch," He demanded, stabbing a finger toward the console. "Right now."
I laughed, leaning back against the machine as the tension in my chest melted away. It was nice to feel this—normal, easy, light. No weight in my stomach, no shadow creeping in my peripheral vision. Just noise, laughter, and Caleb sulking over another loss.
"Alright, alright, break it up." Emmett stepped forward, ruffling Caleb's hair, which earned him an annoyed swat. "You're ruining Reese's repo here."
"You try playing her."
"Is that a challenge?"
"It's a warning."
I tilted my head, flashing Emmett a knowing smirk. "You should listen to him."
