“It’s not just Adam. I’m a guest and I don’t want your parents to think I came up to get in their daughter’s pants.

“Oh my god, when did you turn into this good guy?”

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m still bad.” He pulls me down on top of him and quickly has me pinned underneath him on the couch bed.

He doesn’t kiss me, though, just stares down at me.

“I’m so excited you’re here.”

He grins. “Me too.”

I wake up to the smell of pumpkin and turkey and am instantly giddy. A real Thanksgiving with the whole family. And Heath.

Adam and the guys are already up, their doors open and rooms empty as I pass by on my way downstairs. I slow as I get to the last step. Heath’s pulling a gray T-shirt over his head and holding his phone up to his ear.

When he spots me, he smiles, and my insides turn to mush.

“All right, I should go. The guys are waiting on me.” He continues staring at me as he says goodbye to whoever he’s talking to. I meet him halfway as he pockets his phone.

“Was that your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“She must miss having you home for the holidays. My mom’s ecstatic Adam’s here. She’s been in the kitchen all morning making extra pies.”

“Hope she doesn’t mind we came along.”

“Are you kidding? She’s thrilled. My mother’s happiest when she has lots of people to dote on.”

He wraps his arms around my lower back. “What are you up to this morning? Can you save me from some lame football game outside?”

I gasp. “Lame? It’s an honored tradition.” I take his hand and pull him to the door. “You can be on my team. I’ve never lost.”

The neighborhood football game on Thanksgiving morning is a tradition as far back as I can remember. When I was little, I’d sit along the sidelines and cheer on my dad and Adam and whatever boy I had a crush on at the time. But sometime in middle school I decided to join the other brave girls out there. I love it.

“Morning, sunshine.” Mav jogs up to us.

“Morning,” Heath says, voice cracking. He clears it a few times. His gruff morning voice is my favorite.

“Glad you got your sexy ass up; we need a QB.”

Heath shakes his head. “I never played football.”

Mav punches him. “I know, but you’ve got those QB good looks like Tom Brady.”

“Did they already pick teams?” I ask.

“Nah,” Mav says. “They’re fighting over Adam.”

“You four are the most athletically inclined people we’ve had in a while.” I scan the yard to see who made it to play this year, and my gaze snags on someone I didn’t expect. “Bryan’s here?”