Chapter 17 Cade
CADE
Game night is always the best part of the week. A time of family, bonding, and friendly competitiveness. It’s really innocent and not at all violent.
In theory.
“I’m going to take this card and shove it down your throat,” Samson growls, holding up a wild card from the Uno deck and reaching over toward Harley.
Harley grins, waggling his dagger at Samson. “Sit down, old man. I could take you any day.”
“Don’t fucking make me prove to you that I’m better. At everything. At life.”
Samson growls, and Wylder sighs. “When are Matthias and Wyatt getting here? I think I need another drink.”
Dalton pipes up, his fingers delicately putting the cards in his hand in a specific order. “Jackson said they’d be here any minute now. Though, they’re not missing much. This won’t be a fair fight at all.”
Samson glowers at our brother, and Harley laughs. “He means I’m going to win. And he’s right. I’ll kick your ass, just like I did in Uno, old man.”
“We should have stuck with Monopoly,” Wylder mutters.
“Fuck Monopoly. He cheats in that too,” Samson grumbles. “Not as much as Dalton, but it still fucking sucks.”
Dalton doesn’t rise to the bait, calmly continuing to sort his cards.
Ansel blinks over at me, his eyes wide. He looks unsure, uncertain. He has no reason to be. This is typical for game night.
He leans into me, and I savor the heat coming from him. “I’ve never seen Uno played like this before. Or seen someone so angry over it.”
I let out a small laugh, drawing Samson’s ire.
“You’ve never seen Harley cheat the way he does. It would anger even a saint,” Samson grouses.
I roll my eyes, and Samson directs a card in his hand to me. “Would you like this down your throat, Brother?”
I cock my head and pull out a karambit knife and stab it into the table.
Wylder clears his throat pointedly. “I can never keep my furniture looking nice with you here. I should disown you all.”
“Harley started it.” Samson is indignant. “He made this an issue by being a dick. If you want your furniture kept pristine, I’d suggest not inviting Harley to the table.”
Harley rocks back on his chair, smirking. “Hey, I resent that—Cade’s the one stabbing things. Anyway, I’m not cheating. You just suck. At life. And dancing.”
Samson stands up quickly, his chair toppling backward. “That’s it. I changed my mind. I’m going to murder him.”
Ansel’s face pales slightly, and I reach over and stroke his thigh soothingly. There’s nothing to worry about. No blood will be spilled.
Not much, anyway.
Samson barrels past me and Dalton, pushing Harley up against the wall. Harley’s response is to giggle in glee. “Is this all you’ve got? I barely feel it. You’ve atrophied.”
Samson bares his teeth at him. “I’m going to atrophy your brain stem.”
Suddenly, the large doors open, and Matthias, Wyatt, and his brother Jackson appear. They barely seem fazed by the fight happening, just looking for seats to take in the room.
“Oh, goodie, another fight,” Matthias drawls. “What did we miss?”
Jackson strolls past an angry Samson, who’s still strangling Harley, and takes a seat next to Dalton. He scoots his chair so close they touch.
Dalton stiffens but doesn’t move away. Everyone notices it, but no one says a word.
Matthias and Wyatt take the chairs next to Ansel and me, Wyatt leaning toward my frightened little butterfly and rolling his eyes. “They’re babies when it comes to games. I’ve met toddlers who are more mature.”
“I heard that,” Samson grumbles, and then suddenly, Harley has him at a disadvantage.
He throws his elbow into Samson’s arms, making them collapse.
Harley ducks down, shoving Samson back, and a moment later, the two of them go crashing onto the table.
Uno cards go flying, my knife swaying precariously where I stabbed it.
I pull Ansel onto my lap, tucking him into me as the entire table shifts toward the wall.
“Oh fuck,” he gasps, curling into me as he watches in fascination. “This is almost like an action movie.”
“This is mild, really.”
“Are you sure? This seems very violent.”
“It’s nothing. One time, Dalton lost a tooth.”
Samson and Harley cry out as they roll onto the floor, and Wylder purses his lips before crouching down to gather all the Uno cards.
“I refuse to buy another fucking set because of these Neanderthals,” he says when he notices us watching.
“I think we should pivot to Monopoly. It’s less violent,” Dalton says, and Matthias agrees, helping our brother set up the board.
I watch it all while soothing Ansel, who doesn’t seem as bothered by the action in front of us as he probably should be.
Instead, he offers to hand out the money while Samson and Harley continue to roll around on the ground.
Eventually, we lure them away from attempted murder with the promise of a pool of money in the center of the board. Actual money. Not the colorful shit. It’s enough to incentivize them to behave for a moment.
“They’re very easily distracted,” Ansel whispers. “And I’m surprised they’d even care about money. You’re fucking rich as it is.”
I lean over and kiss him softly. “It’s not about the money. It’s about winning. We hate the humiliation. Call it…childhood trauma.”
“And I always win,” Dalton says across the table.
“That’s because you cheat,” I crow, and Dalton smirks. Jackson is peering up at him, his cheeks slightly flushed, a look of pure adoration on his face.
Pity washes over me. Poor kid. He doesn’t stand a fucking chance. Dalton isn’t into younger men, especially men who can’t even drink legally.
“Now, now,” Wylder announces, “it’s time for you all to behave. We’re going to divvy up the tokens.”
Samson’s hands clench into fists. “You know I’m always the iron. Why the fuck do we have to divvy?”
Wylder eyes his brother. “You are always the iron, but maybe someone else would like a chance at it.”
Samson’s eye twitches. “That’s not the fucking rules and you know it.”
Ansel turns to whisper in my ear. “I think Wylder is doing this on purpose.”
I let out a small laugh. “I know he is.”
Wylder holds up the iron between his fingers. “The bid starts at one thousand dollars.”
Ansel gasps, and I let out a gleeful laugh. Oh, this is going to be good. Someone’s going to lose a limb. So much for not showing Ansel all of our violent tendencies. Maybe I should’ve waited another week or two before taking him to game night.
Meh, I’m sure it’ll be fine. All siblings fight. Okay, so maybe they don’t fight with actual weapons, but where’s the fun in that?
Before anyone can offer up the money, Harley launches across the table and snatches the iron from Wylder’s hand.
Samson lets out a feral growl and lunges, but before he can even reach our brother, Harley has shoved the token into his mouth.
“I’m going to fucking murder you,” Samson barks, tackling Harley against the wall once more and squeezing his cheeks tightly. “Spit it out or I’ll slit your throat.”
Wylder sighs. “Do not get blood on the carpet again, or I will murder you all.”
Harley swallows and opens his mouth, showing Samson the empty orifice.
Ansel sucks in a breath. “Did he just…”
“Did you just swallow the iron?” Samson asks, his voice low and dangerous.
Harley has never looked smugger than he does in this moment. “Yep, and now the only way you’re going to get it back is after I shit it out.”
Dalton chuckles, and so do I. Samson is going to go nuclear over this. He loves that fucking iron. Would marry it if he could.
He steps back, staring at Harley with a slightly maniacal smile. It’s not one he breaks out often, just when he’s truly about to lose it.
Sure enough, Samson cocks his fist back and smashes it into Harley’s jaw. The crack is heard around the room, and Ansel jumps at the sound. None of us are bothered though. We’re busy listening to Wylder, who is auctioning off the rest of the tokens.
I stroke Ansel’s back and kiss his cheek, reassuring him that there’s nothing to worry about. This is just life with the Buckinghams. “Which one do you want, my love?”
Ansel worries at his lip. “Um, the thimble.”
“I’ll make sure you get it. Or die trying.”
Ansel’s eyes widen in alarm. “Please don’t. I rather like you alive.”
I grin and kiss him once more, his mouth so fucking irresistible. “Well, I won’t die, because I’m better than everyone here, so don’t worry your pretty little face. You just focus on winning tonight, and if you beat Dalton, I’ll give you the best surprise.”
His eyes light up. “What kind of surprise?”
“Oh, you’ll see.”
Dalton must hear me, because he cocks an eyebrow at me, as if to say that no one ever beats him, but I think my little butterfly can. I think he will. He’s nothing if not determined.
“I can’t believe it,” Ansel gasps, slightly in shock. It’s two in the morning; the Monopoly game ran well into the night. Everyone is tired and grumpy, on their last leg. But not me.
Because Ansel fucking won.
He won.
I turn my gaze to Dalton, who is rolling his lips between his teeth, Jackson whispering something in his ear. He looks slightly defeated. As he should.
My butterfly went head-to-head with a giant and beat his ass, and he’s not even rumpled. He looks positively beautiful, radiant even.
“You did it,” I reply.
Ansel beams. “Does that mean I get to keep the money?”
I nod, and he reaches forward, collecting the giant pile of cash in the middle of the board. I watch his ass as he moves, my cock twitching in anticipation.
When he straightens, the money sitting near his side of the table, I see Dalton stand up and make his way over to us.
His hand extends in an offering, and Ansel shakes it.
“Good game,” Dalton says amiably, and the tone of his voice makes something inside of me sit up.
“You too,” Ansel replies, trying not to gloat. I wish he would. I wish he’d put my brother in his place. Then, he does just that. “Even trying to cheat, I still kicked your ass.”
A laugh explodes out of me, and Dalton frowns.