Page 44 of Holding Ground

“Baylor has talked about you. Good to meet you.” I shake his hand.

“Well, I am her favorite uncle.” He holds my hand for longer than necessary, giving me the once-over.

“Ansel.” Elliott’s voice cuts through the room. A one-word warning.

Ansel’s expression says, “Nice to meet you,” but beneath the smile, I think he’s evaluating me. I’ve seen plenty of my own family members give this look. It’s the same one I’ve seen Trey give to every man Althea’s ever brought home.

“What?” Ansel drops my hand. “Unlike you, I’m being welcoming. This is my welcome to poker night face.” He points at his mouth and grins.

Elliott rolls his eyes and motions to the only other man. “This is our youngest brother, Hollis.”

Hollis is already seated at the table, leaning back with his ankle resting on his opposite knee. He has the same dark hair as his brothers, but his facial hair more closely matches Elliott’s, given that Ansel has none. And the blue eyes match his oldest brother’s.

Unlike Ansel’s loud and obvious appraisal, Hollis studies me in a quiet, thoughtful way. His eyes carry more weight than Ansel’s, and the thought that still waters run deep immediately comes to mind.

Hollis raises his beer in greeting. “Good to meet you.”

“There’s beer in the fridge, Emelia. Help yourself,” Roy says.

“We’re not at your place tonight, remember? I can offer her a beer,” Elliott says, walking over to the fridge.

Ansel and Hollis chuckle quietly, sharing a look.

“Well then, do it so we can get started.” Roy shuffles the cards sitting on the table in front of him.

“You want a beer, Em, or do you prefer wine?” Elliott has one hand draped over the top of the fridge door, and he’s bent forward looking inside, so he can’t see the way I go still when he shortens my name. It’s something only those closest to me have ever done.

“I’m good with a beer. Thanks.”

Elliott plucks one out of the fridge and twists the cap off, tossing it in the garbage before walking my way and passing over the bottle.

“Thanks.” I walk over to the table, not entirely sure where to sit. I choose to sit across from Hollis, thinking Elliott can sit next to him. That way, he doesn’t have to sit beside me.

But Elliott drops into the seat next to me, while Ansel takes the seat beside Hollis, and Clyde takes the seat at the opposite end of the table from Roy.

“So you’re the one. My brother’s new roommate.” Ansel looks at me.

“Temporarily. Until the bunkie is fixed.” I bring the beer to my lips.

Ansel looks at Elliott. “How’s that going? The repairs? Moving quickly?”

“They’re moving at the pace they move, Ansel.”

Someone was out here earlier in the week to take a look and suggest the best method to make the repairs. I think Elliott plans to do a lot of it himself, but he said that some of it he may have to contract out.

“Sure. No reason to rush.” Ansel shrugs, exchanging a glance with Hollis.

“Definitely not,” Hollis adds.

“The beam is cracked.” Elliott’s tone is one of no argument, but I have a feeling this family isn’t that much different from my dad, Uncle Cade, and their brothers.

“I believe you.” Hollis assumes his most innocent expression.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. The undertone is clear—they assume Elliott is dragging his feet. But they couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Buy-in’s five dollars,” Roy says, moving the subject along. Thank you, Roy.

We play the first few rounds, and I keep it low-key, trying to get a feel for how everyone plays. I’ve played poker a lot with various members of my family. In fact, my dad and Uncle Cade started a Friday night poker league at the brewery and restaurant they own together that was always really popular. Since I was forced to work there as a teenager, I picked up some things.