I match.
The river comes.
Ace of spades.
My heart slams.
Full house.
I don’t lose in my house.
I push all my chips forward. “I’m all in, baby.”
“I like it when you call me baby,” Layla says easily.
There it is again, that pull, that heat in my jeans.
“But,” she adds, “I’m all in too.”
Dad slams his beer on the table. “Alright, enough, call it!”
I lay my cards down. “Full fuckin’ house.”
I reach for the pot—
Then Layla flips her cards.
Ace-high Full House.
I freeze.
She grins, drags the pot toward her, and does a little shimmy, shaking her massive tits right at me, laughing, just enough to be distracting. Maggie and Nancy lose it. Luke claps my shoulder.
“You did good, bro.”
I stare at Layla, jaw tight.
This girl is doing something to me.
“Damn,” Maggie laughs, “she’s even better than Abby.”
That’s it. The room tilts. That name lands like a punch.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, shoving my chair back and grabbing my beer before heading for the front porch.
“Wait—Cole, hold on!” Layla follows me outside. “It’s just poker. You can have the money.”
“It ain’t about the money,” I say, turning away.
She steps closer, her hand landing on my shoulder. “Why do you hate me so much?”
Because if I don’t you'll stay and people who stay always end up leaving at some point. She’s slurring a little. She’s had too much to drink.
“Hate you?” I turn back. “I don’t hate you, Layla.”
She looks up at me like she’s waiting for something more. Like I owe her an explanation.
“I don’t need another person to worry about,” I say quietly.
