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“So, things really are serious with him and Brex?”
I scoffed, tossing him the flippant side-eye that remark earned. “Please. Like you didn’t see them together in Florida. They were already oozing thirty-thousand-dollar reception, open bar, whatever-dress-she-likes, salmon or prime rib bells.”
“He seems happy,” Mav pointed out, although curiosity danced in his eyes, inevitably at my tone.
“It’sRhyett. Give the man a cup of tea and a pretty sunset and he’s happy.”
An indignant snort cut off my salty diatribe. I was excited for my brother. Honestly, I was. But a dirty bathroom one-night-stand that blew him off in the name offate deciding, only to end up head over fucking heels infatuated? That shit didn’t happen in real life. Not for anyone else, at least.
I turned towards the offending scoff, although it didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess that Axel was walking up beside us.
Where Mav, Paxton, and Finn were the spitting image of, well,me—dark, unruly hair and accompanying salted scruff and pale skin—Axel was Rhyett, duplicated. A little rougher around the edges, a little broader in the shoulders, but just as blonde and just as tan. It was the Rhodes family eyes that gave us all away though, and a second set of those steely-blues locked on me. Axel braced himself on the rail to my opposite side, watching as the island drew closer.
“Someone’s on the wrong side of the boat today.”
“Just tired,” I said. Though to be convincing, I likely needed to at least attempt to not growl like a feral dog when I spoke. Palming my face, I added, “Nothing a few fingers of scotch and a night with the boys won’t fix.” It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see him—them—it was just the idea ofmorebodies cramming inside the main house.
I know everything in life is cheaper by the fucking dozen, but twelve kids, three annoyingly omnipresent best friends, two parents, two dogs, a cat, and a plethora of cousins was plenty of ruckus, thank you very much.
When our oldest sister, Jeanne, got married, it didn’t feel like anything changed. But that was because Link had been around for most of our lives. He was already a part of the house. Honestly, I missed the fucker when I remembered he still existed somewhere out there, saving lives as far away from my stubborn sister as he could get. They’d gone their separate ways, torn apart by grief, and never reconciled. She could put on a brave face, but Jeanne would always belong to Link, just like Mom would always belong to our dad. I just hoped she’d realize it in time to get her happy ending. I didn’t believe in that tacky romantic shit, but some people just…clicked.
Kinda like Rhyett and Brexley, though I loathed to admit my brother was likely lost to the rest of us.
You know the way your stomach drops when you lose balance too close to a cliff face? That same precarious drop had settled in my gut. Like Rhyett was just the first domino, the impenetrable line of Rhodes siblings about to crash one-by-one into monotonous monogamy.
Which would make our already full family gatherings seem…insane. We’d need a barn. Or church hall. Perhaps a wedding venue for Sunday family dinners.
Yeah, Rhyett and Brex, plus whatever mystery friend was coming with them, would require a strong cup of coffee. Or liquor. Maybe both.
“Hell yeah, I forgot that’s tonight. Home just in time,” Mav said, grinning. Honestly, the little shit was probably just still pumped he was old enough to join in.
As Milo smoothly brought us into the dock, Axel and I both dismounted over the rail in a synchronized, highly inadvisable leap. I couldn’t help that some part of me was still a rebellious adolescent, the bark of Milo’s disapproval settling like satisfaction in my chest. It was a move we’d seen in an animated movie as kids and implemented ourselves, much to our father’s outrage.
Ropes in hand, we both hit the decking, locking gazes only to find the emotion mirrored back. Tied off, exhausted, and so fucking thankful to be back on almost solid land, I headed up through the harbor towards my truck.
* * *
“I fold.”
Smirking at Maverick, I drawled, “Of course you do, princess.” I tapped my cards against the table as he set his down in surrender. Staring down Rhyett, I leaned back in my chair, channeling a bit of pent-up energy into the simple rock and sway of it. Our monthlyguys’ nighthad become a thing when half of us were still in high school. Our numbers might’ve dwindled some as we all took our turns in college and our younger brother, Paxton, rode off to live my freaking dream life playing for the NFL.
It was almost the two of us, a couple of years apart, both local legends on the field. But when a torn ACL brought my Seattle football career to an abrupt end during my sophomore year in college, I dropped out. The only reason I’d endured classes in the first place was because they were required to play. My GPA was more of a reflection of collegiate league requirements than my actual potential. You had to give a shit to do any better. I simply didn’t.
But these guys right here—my brothers, our best friends, Broderick and Max, and two of our cousins, Charlie and Jake—were the real fucking deal. The hell and high-water crew. The bastards you called to bury a body. Hell, Charlie was the town sheriff, newly appointed this year. Not a bad accomplishment at thirty.
But if we were all in town, Monday nights were for the boys. Football on the television in the fall. Whatever was on ESPN the rest of the year. Didn’t matter how dirty or grime-coated the day had been, this was where we planted our asses before the daylight faded. It was exactly what I needed.
This was where my superior ability to pretend I gave no fucks won me the pot more often than not. But Rhyett—Rhyettusuallyhad my number. The corner of his lips quirked, convincing me he had me.He had me, and I couldn’t show him. Judging by the way his eyes narrowed, he knew it.
“I call,” Rhyett said simply.
Cocksucker. I didn’t let myself eye the pot, didn’t let my posture shift from where I’d laced my fingers behind my head. Axel was practically vibrating out of his seat next to me, and Broderick knew me about as well as Rhyett, which meant he was also kicked back in his chair, arms crossed as he watched me and held his breath like a sniper.
Fold or bluff? Fold or bluff?If I folded, Rhyett walked away victorious. If I bluffed, there was a chance—equivalent to finding a four-leaf clover in a field—that he’d buy it, and I could still take the pot home. My best friend, Broderick, had even tossed in his classy brand-name watch. I mean, it might be fun to see what that felt like for an hour or two before returning it, so it didn’t get wasted on boat life. None of us were dumb enough to take a trinket from the town philosopher—our trades would destroy the damn thing in a day.
Slowly, I eyed the table before sliding my gaze back up to my brother’s cocky face, drawing up a slow smile. Broderick shifted in his seat, his focus nearly as acute as Axel’s, like he knew. Like he knew and wasn’t sure what he wanted to see play out.
“All in.” I slid my pile into the center, refusing to react to Axel as he rocked in his seat and sucked down a breath that puffed his cheeks out, our ridiculous baby brother as he choked on either spit or a bite of chip, or Broderick as the tiniest curl played on his lips.
