Chapter 4
THE LAST HUDDLE
ARTEMIS
The chaos of Kingman family game night was just as fun as the first scrum of a game, and it hit me before I even made it through the door of the Cool Beans coffee shop.
Through the windows, the Kingman brothers were already deep in heated debate about something, hands waving dramatically while Jules stood on a chair orchestrating whatever insanity was about to unfold.
Liam and George, Willa's guncles who owned the coffee shop, were bustling around setting up tables and looking absolutely delighted to be hosting what they'd dubbed “The Last Huddle.”
The Kingman family operated at a volume that would have given my mother a migraine.
She liked order and stability. My dad would have fit in better.
He had that touch of chaos about his life.
As demonstrated by the way he’d called me at two in the morning his time while I’d been on my way to game night.
“With this new job coaching the lads,” my dad said, “you and I just might get to meet up at the next Olympics, hen. Wouldna that be a lark?”
The Scottish men’s rugby team was lucky to have my dad as a new coach this year. Just the prestige of having him on staff would draw in the kind of players they wanted.
“Yep. It’s the best kind of excuse to get together.” I hadn’t seen him since I graduated from high school, and even then it was just for a few days.
“You sure you don’t want to come play for good ole Caledonia? I’d love to have you back home now that you’re out on your own. You could just squeak in under the three-year rule in time for the next games.”
Scotland hadn’t been my home in a long time. But moving thirteen times in thirteen years had taught me well that teams, friends, and even family were fleeting.
“You coming in, or are you planning to stand out there all night like a creeper?” Gryff's voice made me jump. He stuck his head out the door to catch me lurking outside while I finished up my call.
I covered the phone and faux glared at him. “You're the creeper.”
He snorted and said, “Your face is a creeper.”
“I’ve got to run, da. I’ll think about Scotland, okay? Love you, bye.”
“Haste ye back, love.”
The moment we walked through the door, the chaos enveloped us like a bear hug. Chris and Declan were arguing about board game superiority while Everett set up what looked like a complex scoring system. Hayes was stress-eating cookies, and Isak was filming everything on his phone.
“The natives are restless tonight,” Willa observed, appearing at my elbow with a fancy tea latte. “Apparently the stakes are higher because it's the last game night before you guys abandon us for California.”
“We're not abandoning anyone,” Flynn said, emerging with an armload of board games. “We're just... expanding our territory.”
My usual spot was between Gryff and whoever he was getting too competitive with, which was usually Flynn. Tonight I was surrounded by a half a room of Kingman Queens. And any last vestiges of tension and stress I’d been carrying just kind of melted away.
It was the same way I felt when I was on the rugby pitch with my girls. There weren’t a whole lot of places in the world where I didn’t have to think about how my body was going to fit.
I spent quite a few Sunday evenings just like this, and I liked feeling it was where I belonged, even if it was only for the night.
Bridger let out one of those sharp two-finger whistles which had everyone shutting up and sitting down real fast. His coach voice cutting through the remaining chatter immediately.
“Before we commence with the traditional family bonding through competitive gaming, I want to tell you kids a few things because we don't know the next time we might all be in the same room together like this.”
Gryff grabbed my hand underneath the table. His family meant everything to him and this had to be hard on him. I squeezed his hand back and for the first time it hit me that this move to LA was going to upend his world. A whole lot more than it would mine.
Bridger continued, “This is our last game night as a complete family unit. After tonight, we're scattered across the country for the first time since... well, ever.”
The room went quiet in that way that only happened when Gryff's father shifted into Coach Dad Mode.
I'd witnessed this phenomenon dozens of times, but it never failed to amaze me how quickly eight incredibly strong-willed people plus a few of their partners and tonight, even their aunts and grandparents, could turn into attentive team players when Bridger Kingman got serious.
“So tonight,” Bridger continued, “we're going to play games, we're going to argue about the rules, someone's going to accuse someone else of cheating, and we're going to remember why we love each other even when we want to throw Monopoly money at each other's heads.”
“Dibs on being the banker,” Isak called out immediately.
“Absolutely not,” Jules shot back. “You can't be trusted with other people's money.”
“I'll remind you I turned that twenty bucks you gave me into two thousand, brat.”
“Yeah, but you spent it on your... new toy.” She definitely caught herself before she revealed whatever that new toy had been.
Isak narrowed his eyes at Jules, but grinned. “I did. But I gave you the twenty bucks back, didn't I?”
And just like that, the cozy, comfortable chaos resumed. I smiled to myself over the family devolving into their traditional pregame arguments. No matter how heated the arguments got, everyone would still be family at the end of the night.
Gryff said, nudged my shoulder. “You're thinking too hard about something.”
He studied my face with that particular brand of Gryff attention that made me feel like he could see right through my carefully constructed walls.
He wasn't wrong.
In a few weeks, we'd be moving across the country to start our adult lives. It was life. Old friends were left behind and new friends would be made. This was how it worked.
For the first time in forever, I couldn't imagine starting over somewhere else again. “Just thinking about how much I'm going to miss this.”
“It’s not like you're not losing this, or us even.” Gryff frowned like I was on a ridiculous amount of crack. “Distance doesn't change family.”
It had changed mine.
Jules had created an elaborate tournament bracket, and the games began in earnest. The night didn’t really begin until there was at least one threat to flip the table. Usually from Declan.
It was a hoot to watch how all the couples navigated the competition together. They supported and cheered for the other, even while trying to destroy each other at board games.
Two hours later, Jules was maintaining her lead with her Aunt June through what appeared to be strategic brilliance and psychological manipulation.
“Final game,” Jules announced as we cleared the table. “Winner takes all.”
She pulled out the lucky pillow from behind her back and lifted it over her head. All the boys gasped, and there were definitely a couple boos and jeers of her being a cheater.
“When the hell did you sneak that out from under my butt?” Penny stood up and looked at her chair in shock.
“When Everett distracted you with cookies and really sloppy and disgusting kisses.”
Penny turned to him and glared like he'd done it on purpose. But he lifted his hands, declaring his innocence. “She tricked me by saying you looked like you needed a treat. How was I supposed to not kiss you when I delivered said treat?”
The green embroidered throw pillow that said “In this house, we bleed green” in their mother April's careful stitching had been dubbed the lucky pillow long before I ever played a game with them. It was worn and loved and had so much love and family history attached to it.
“That's a fair and square pillow snatch,” Nana Evie declared. No one was going to argue with her.
The final game was a deceptively simple card game called Bluff.
Perfect for the sneakiest of Kingmans, which was every single one of them.
It was the usual destruction of family relationships through strategic cheating, and more fun than any card game should ever be.
Jules won decisively, claiming power of the lucky pillow and bragging rights for life.
“Before we pack it up,” Bridger said, “I've got a present for my kids.”
The room went quiet again, that particular quiet that meant something important was happening.
“This family,” Bridger continued, his voice carrying that slight roughness that meant he was fighting emotion, “has been through a lot together.
We've celebrated victories and weathered losses.
We've supported each other through everything from broken bones to broken hearts.
And through it all, we've had each other.”
I felt my throat tighten. I'd watched this family support each other through everything, showing up for each other in ways that my own family had never quite managed.
“Now you're all heading out into the world to build your own lives,” Bridger continued. “And I think your mother would want you to take a piece of that love with you wherever you go.”
Bridger signaled to the women who all walked over to where Liam and George were hovering behind the counter, clearly having been let in on whatever was about to happen. George handed a box out to Aunts May, June, and Kik. Then two each to Nana Evie and Grandma De le Reine.
“Your grandmothers and aunts,” Bridger said, “have been very busy.”
He nodded to Grandma Helene, who set a box in front of Chris.
The eldest Kingman brother lifted the lid off the box and pulled out an embroidered throw pillow.
It looked exactly like the lucky pillow, with the same careful stitching and loving detail, except this one said “Christopher” in elegant script at the bottom.
“In this house, we bleed green,” Chris read aloud. Then his face went through about six different emotions before settling on something that looked suspiciously like tears.