“Don’t be such a sore loser, Cal.” I slide my hands into my pockets as I turn to face him, leaning against the wall and brushing my fingers over my mother’s ring. Callum stands a few feet off, looking ever like the Golden Boy, even in the moonlight. He’s the royal version of Captain America with all the blond hair and the square jaw and all those things that women seem to not just love but admire.
