Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Kaden
Game Night Crawford Family Style
Dinner with my family isn’t supposed to feel . . . easy. For some reason I’m yet to understand everyone is here. Normally, I’d be itching to escape the table, to find some excuse to slip away before the inevitable round of questions or unsolicited advice started. But tonight? Tonight feels different.
Maybe it’s because of the ride earlier. Showing Valentina the property felt like something more than just going through the motions. I took her to the ice rink, the football field, and all the other amenities scattered across the estate, telling her stories that only a Crawford would know. Like the time Killion accidentally locked himself in the stables while trying to “train” a horse he was afraid of, or the year Scottie insisted on building an ice castle that collapsed in less than twenty minutes.
I told her about the times I would be going to the rink to teach Grayson how to skate—he was three at the time. Somehow, I felt like if I could convince him that hockey was his passion, team hockey would win over the football lovers. And we in fact did. Only two out of the six of us followed the football lane.
Valentina didn’t laugh at the stories—I mean, really laugh. She shared them, like she belonged there, like she wasn’t just humoring me. And it wasn’t forced, either. It was real. For the first time in a long time, I found myself . . . relaxing.
On the rink with Dad, running drills, I expected the usual—his precise eye, his relentless feedback, and the constant drive to be better, faster, more focused. But tonight felt different. Maybe it was the way Valentina stood at the edge, her arms crossed, her lips curving into a soft smile as she watched. I could feel her gaze the entire time, and instead of throwing me off, it gave me a sense of balance I wasn’t used to. Like I could let my guard down for once.
I skated harder, pushed myself through the drills, but the usual pressure didn’t cling to me. Not tonight. Tonight, it felt like I could just exist in this space—me, Dad, and her on the sidelines, fitting into the moment like she’d always been part of it.
It didn’t make me anxious. It made me comfortable. And that . . . that was something I hadn’t felt in years.
At dinner, my five siblings filled the table with lively conversation, their voices overlapping as they shared stories and cracked jokes. Dad sat at one end, his face lit with laughter, while Papa handed off the breadbasket with a small smile. Valentina sat beside me, watching it all unfold like she wasn’t sure if she’d stepped into a family dinner or a competition to see who could speak the fastest.
Dad stands and stretches, his grin wide. “Game night,” he announces, clapping his hands together.
“Game night? What is he talking about?” Valentina asks, her wide eyes darting from me to my dad, who’s already striding toward the equipment room down the hall.
“Think of it as a team-building exercise,” I explain, leaning back in my chair, “except my family is the team, and I’m pretty sure someone is going to end up in the emergency room tonight.”
Her brows furrow. “What kind of games does your family play?”
“The kind that might void our insurance,” I reply with a smirk, standing and motioning for her to follow me. Around us, my siblings are already scattering, grabbing jackets and heading toward the backyard with an energy that suggests this is their favorite part of the night.
“The Crawford family has a tradition—after dinner, we play a game. Sometimes it’s something tame, like Pictionary. But more often than not, it’s a sport. And trust me, with our family, it gets competitive.”
She hesitates before standing, glancing around like she’s expecting someone to pull out a whistle and referee gear. “Okay, but what are we playing tonight?”
“Good question,” I say as I lead her toward the backyard. “I don’t know either. You’ll be fine, though.” I shoot her a wink, pushing open the patio doors open.
The backyard is already buzzing with energy. Killion is tossing a ball between his hands, Scottie is stretching dramatically, and Lucian is pacing like he’s already strategizing. They’re all decked out in athletic gear, like they’ve been preparing for this all day. Meanwhile, Valentina and I look like we wandered into the wrong party—me still in my casual dinner clothes and her in jeans and a sweater that she borrowed from my sister.
“What the fuck?” she mutters, her gaze darting from my siblings to me. “Did you know this was happening?”
“Not a clue,” I lie, though I’m sure my grin gives me away. “But you look great. I’m sure you’ll manage.”
Her eyes narrow, but before she can retort, Killion jogs over, his grin matching mine. “You’re late,” he says, tossing the ball in the air and catching it. “And Val here is on my team.”
“She’s a guest,” I argue, crossing my arms. “Shouldn’t she get to sit this one out?”
“Absolutely not,” Scottie chimes in, tying her hair into a high ponytail. “Guests play. That’s the rule.”
Valentina looks at me, her expression a mix of amusement and mild panic. “Is this hazing? Are you hazing me right now?”
“No,” I reply, chuckling. “Hazing is less fun.”
“Relax,” Killion says, clapping Valentina on the shoulder. “It’s just a friendly game. No one’s died yet.”
“Yet?” she repeats, her voice rising an octave.
“Don’t worry,” I say, biting back another laugh. “I’ll protect you.”
She shoots me a half-serious glare, but she still follows me toward the others. And for some reason, I can’t stop smiling. She doesn’t realize it yet, but Valentina Holiday is going to fit right in—even if it means I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Oh, would you look who it is? Mr. Prince Charming himself,” Greyson teases, smirking at me as he spins a soccer ball on one finger.
I flip him the bird without missing a beat. “Shut it.”
“Is that any way to act around your new girlfriend?” Scottie chimes in, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she drags out the last word.
“Shut up, all of you,” I snap, glaring at them. It’s an empty threat, though, and they know it. They always do. My siblings know I’d never actually follow through on anything more than a half-hearted shove or a sarcastic comeback.
Leif tosses the soccer ball in Valentina’s direction, and she fumbles it, letting it drop to the ground with a thud. “We’ll see how nice you are in a little while. I hope you brought sneakers, girly.”
Valentina shoots me a look, one eyebrow raised in mild panic. All I can do is shrug. “Welcome to the circus,” I say under my breath. If she wants to prove to them that we’re actually a couple, she’s going to have to play along. Literally.
Not long after, we’re back inside the house, rummaging through my room. Valentina didn’t bring other clothes, so I hand her one of my oversized shirts to pair with the leggings she found in Scottie’s closet.
When she comes out of my sister’s room, her face is flushed, her hair pulled into a messy bun, and her face scrubbed clean of makeup—at least, as far as I can tell.
I blink, taking her in. I’m used to women doing the absolute most to get my attention—tight sports bras, barely-there leggings, whatever it takes to grab my eye. It never really works. Sure, I think they’re attractive, but there’s always something calculated about it, something a little fake.
Valentina, though? She’s nothing like that. She’s absolutely gorgeous, and it catches me off guard. There’s no pretense with her. Just her—annoyingly real and entirely too stunning for my sanity.
“So, are we doing this or what?” she asks, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. She’s actually excited. And now I feel bad for what she’s about to endure.
“Maybe you should just stand on the sidelines,” I say as we head outside.
The backyard has already been transformed into a makeshift soccer field, complete with the old kiddy goals we used to play with when we were younger. My brothers are kicking a ball back and forth, talking trash like they’re in the World Cup finals.
“Let’s go. We don’t have all day, lover boy,” Lucian shouts, waving us over.
“I’m going to kill him,” I growl, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Don’t mind him,” Valentina says with a laugh. “It’s cute. I love your family dynamic.”
I stop in my tracks, squinting at her. “Cute? This isn’t cute. They’re all assholes.”
She shrugs, her smile softening. “Why don’t more people know how close you are with them?”
“What kind of question is that?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“For starters,” she says, bounding down the stairs toward the field, “so people can realize you actually have a heart. I mean, I’m sorry to say it, but most people think you’re just this asshole who happens to score hockey goals.”
Her words hit like a slap disguised as a compliment. I stand there, watching as she joins my family without hesitation, chatting with Scottie and Leif like she’s been here all along.
Sure, people think I’m an asshole. Not that I care. But maybe that’s the problem—one Valentina seems hell-bent on fixing.
I shake off the thought and join my family on the makeshift field.
My fathers are already calling everyone together to pick teams.
“Scottie, Killion, you two are captains. Play smart,” Pop announces before moving to stand with Dad, clearly waiting to see which team he’ll end up on.
Scottie wastes no time picking me first, because she knows I’m a solid player. Killion, of course, chooses Valentina—probably just to get under my skin.
My fathers quickly go over the rules, though everyone already knows them by heart. They’re probably doing it for Valentina’s sake. She nods along seriously, though she’s still bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet like she’s ready.
“Let’s play,” Pop calls out, and just like that, we’re off.
The game starts strong, with Lucian scoring a goal right away. I find myself yelling at Leif for letting the ball get past him.
“Boys, it’s just a game,” Dad calls out, his tone laced with amusement as he jogs back on defense. He’s smirking, which tells you everything you need to know about where this family’s competitive streak comes from.
Both my fathers were world-class athletes—Dad’s a Hall of Fame hockey player, and Pop’s a Hall of Fame football player. When it comes to sports and winning, there’s no messing around in this house.
The game is fast-paced and relentless, with both teams running back and forth across the field. To my surprise, Valentina’s holding her own. She’s not the best athlete—obviously—but she’s putting in real effort. She’s not trying to impress anyone; she’s just having fun and being a team player.
And it’s . . . endearing.
Finally, the ball is kicked in my direction, and I see a clean shot at the goal. With some fancy footwork, I dodge past Lucian, who’s been dogging me the whole game. I’m closing in when I hear someone rushing me, yelling like a banshee.
Before I can react, Valentina jumps on my back, and we both go crashing to the ground.
I try to push her off and get up, but her legs are tangled with mine, and we end up in a heap, both of us sprawled in the grass.
I’ve just been defeated by the smallest, most stubborn person on the field.
When I look up, everyone is pointing and laughing. Scottie’s doubled over, clutching her stomach, and even my fathers are chuckling from the sidelines.
“Traitors. All of you,” I grumble, but my words only fuel their laughter.
The sun warms my back, the grass tickling my cheek, and I feel a rush of air as Valentina finally rolls off me. Her laughter rings out, clear and bright, filling the air like wind chimes on a breezy summer day.
She sits up, her hair wild around her face, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes bright with energy. Out of breath but still grinning, she wipes a bead of sweat from her brow and glances at me.
“Well,” she says between breaths, “I hope you didn’t think you’d score that easily. You know I’m not just a pretty face on the field.” Her voice is teasing, lighthearted, but there’s a competitive edge to it that makes me grin.
I chuckle, the sound rumbling up from somewhere deep, surprising even me. “You got me there,” I admit, still catching my breath. “I didn’t stand a chance.”
But as the laughter around us fades, something shifts. I glance at her—her hair messy, her face glowing with effort, and her eyes so full of life—and a warmth spreads through me. It’s unsettling, unfamiliar. A part of me wonders what it would be like to win her over in a completely different game.
Before I can dwell on the thought, Lucian jogs over, smirking like the shit-stirrer he is. “Hey. You two lovebirds planning on getting back in the game or what?”
Valentina rolls her eyes and stands, brushing herself off. “Well, if he wasn’t so easy to take down,” she calls over her shoulder, then turns to offer me her hand.
Her fingers wrap around mine, and as she helps me up, I realize something I didn’t expect: this might all be for show, but pretending Valentina Holiday is my girlfriend and future fiancée might not be as hard as I thought.