I swallow hard, feeling like I’ve got shards of glass stuck in my throat. Jessie climbs out of the car with a laugh. She reaches for my hand as we walk up the long driveway. I tighten my hand around her slender fingers. Her bright purple nail polish puts a smile on my lips.

Jessie stops at the front door, spinning to face me. I step away, caught off guard by the action.

“Too late to turn back now.” She makes a cross over her chest. Her eyes are locked on mine when she reaches behind her and opens the door. “Once more unto the breach. Watch your six, Big Man.” Mischief dances across her beautiful face.

Stepping across the threshold, I’m assaulted by delicious smells and booming voices. Both get stronger as I follow Jessie farther into the house.

“They don’t have the run game. They’ll never win a championship without it,” a deep voice bellows down the long hallway.

“You don’t need a run game when you’ve got Davis’ arm. That guy’s a freakin’ cannon,” a second man’s voice chimes in.

“Nah, it’s the defense that’s gonna keep them out of the top spot,” a third voice calls out before all three begin talking over each other in indistinguishable squabbles.

Jessie and I round a corner at the same time, stepping into the large kitchen that seems to house the entire extended Allen family. Every single one of whom goes quiet at the sight of me standing next to Jessie. I swear, even the baby crying just a second ago is silent.

“Hi, everyone,” Jessie’s warm voice chirps, echoing among the human statues. She side-eyes me with a nervous laugh. “I think you might’ve broken my family.”

I place my hand on her lower back and take a look around the room. Huddled around a bowl of chips and dip are three clean-cut guys. They’re carbon copies, identical except for each being a few years younger than the next. Sandy-blond hair, broad shoulders and square jaws. They’re harmless enough—I don’t bother giving them a second glance. Behind them, leaning against the sink, is a woman with golden-brown skin and long black hair falling down her back in tight curls. She’d be pretty if those brown eyes weren’t puffy and red in a way that makes me think she hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in about a month. Still, she stares down at a little bundle in her arms like it carries all her hopes in this world.