Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
T eddy leaned forward on the couch. His elbows came to rest on his knees as he studied the stack of cards in front of Bunny. She sat across from him, cross-legged, in one of his oversized armchairs. Her dark eyes pinned him in place. Her lips were in a flat, unreadable line. The woman had the best poker face he'd ever seen.
“I’m starting to think you’ve hustled a few bikers in your time,” he said.
“Maybe." Not a flicker of an eyelash. Not a tug of that bitable lip. "Or maybe I just know how to read people.”
They were playing a game called Skulls. It had started decades ago in bars, invented by bikers who used coasters as makeshift cards. One coaster would have a skull scrawled on the back, while the others were left blank. The rules were straightforward: each player placed one card from their hand face-down in a pile, and at any point, someone could start a bid, declaring how many cards they thought they could flip without revealing a skull. The highest bidder would then have to flip that many cards—starting with their own stack—and if they hit a skull, they lost. If they succeeded, they won the round.
But the real challenge—and the fun—was in the bluffing.
“I’ve played this game with actual bikers before in that dive bar on Route 17.” Teddy leaned back, his face a mask as he spoke.
“The one with the neon jukebox and questionable peanuts?” Bunny gave no inflection in her tone. She really was good at this.
“That’s the one. And now the game is mass produced and sold on Amazon, which is great for me because I'm going to get to beat you.”
“Big talk for someone about to lose.”
“We’ll see about that.”
They played in silence for a few moments. The quiet was punctuated by the rustle of cards and the occasional creak of the house settling under the weight of the snowstorm. The baby napped peacefully in the corner, her little breaths soft and even.
“You’re the eldest of your siblings, right?”
Bunny nodded, her focus still on the game. She placed her next card.
“Which makes you the problem solver.”
All he got was a raised brow.
Teddy played his next card. “I'm an only child myself. My mom raised me on her own.”
Bunny’s hand paused over her stack. “Your dad wasn’t… around?”
“He was killed in action when I was ten.”
The weight of his words hung between them. For the first time since they’d started the game, Bunny’s poker face cracked. Her eyes softened. Her lips parted slightly in an expression of quiet sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Me too.” Teddy leaned back, resting an arm along the back of the couch. “Mom stopped everything to take care of me after that. She was this tough, no-nonsense soldier who could take on the world—until we lost him. Then I realized I needed to take care of her.”
Bunny’s gaze lingered on him, her hand hovering over her next move. “That’s a lot for a ten-year-old.”
“Yeah, well. She went back into service eventually, when she saw that I was a capable young man. She retired with a full pension a few years ago. Now she’s bored out of her mind, which means she’s made it her life’s mission to meddle in mine.”
Bunny’s lips twitched. The faintest trace of a smile formed on that heart-shaped mouth. “She must adore you.”
“The feeling’s mutual. But I’ll tell you this—strong women like her? They never ask for help. And they definitely don’t like accepting it. They prefer to give, not realizing how much it takes out of them.”
His words laid themselves bare between them. It was an ace thrown down. A final bet pushed to the center of the table. No bluff, no pretense, just the truth.
Bunny’s fingers hesitated over her next card. For the first time tonight, her mask slipped. Teddy saw it in her eyes, the exhaustion she rarely let anyone witness, the way she was finally letting herself be at ease.
She looked like she might respond, like she wanted to match his honesty with her own. Instead, she lowered her gaze and played her next card, as if that move alone could steady the unspoken weight between them.
“Your turn,” Bunny said, her tone almost defiant, flicking her remaining cards toward him like she was throwing down a gauntlet.
“I call your bluff.” Teddy leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head with an insufferably smug grin.
Bunny narrowed her eyes, the glint of a challenge flashing in them. She flipped over the first card he requested. Safe. Then the second.
The skull stared up at her like it was mocking her.
She groaned, flopping dramatically against the back of her chair. “I hate you right now.”
“No, you don’t. I’m your favorite person in the world. You’re relaxed, rested, well-fed, without a care in the world except for a game.”
Bunny scoffed, but didn’t immediately fire back. That alone told Teddy he wasn’t wrong. He watched as she absently ran a finger along the edge of one of her remaining cards, her brows knitting together.
“I do have other cares in the world aside from you, Teddy Carter. I’m worried about my sisters.”
The shift in her tone made Teddy straighten. “What’s going on?”
Bunny exhaled, looking down at the cards she wasn’t playing anymore. “Kitty’s on the verge of a divorce. Birdy’s convinced she doesn’t need anyone. They’re both too stubborn to ask for help, but they need it. I should be there, helping them figure it all out.”
Teddy watched her carefully, noticing the way her fingers twitched like she was itching to grab her phone, to check in, to fix everything like she always did. He reached across the table, covering her hand with his own. “And what if they figure it out on their own?”
Bunny looked up, her expression unreadable once more.
Teddy squeezed her fingers, his thumb brushing over the top of her hand. “You’re allowed to take a break, Bunny. They’ll be okay. You can’t control everything.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away from his touch. “That’s rich, coming from a man who just spent ten minutes trying to control the outcome of a game based entirely on bluffing.”
He smirked. “And yet, I won.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Nah. I just know how to play my cards right. And so do you. You helped raise your sisters as the eldest. If they're a fraction like you, they are more than capable of managing their own lives for a day."
Bunny bit her lip, toying with the skull card.
"Here's what I know: If I do everything, if I do everyone's job, I'll be exhausted at the end of each day, and no one will ever be able to manage without me."
"I know how to delegate. I just like doing it myself."
"You shouldn't have to."
"Well, I wouldn't have to if someone showed up and read the speeches I wrote for him. Instead, when he does have the decency to show up, he often ignores what's right in front of him."
"This third person talk is confusing him."
He got another eyeball for that.
"You—meaning me—have to read the room sometimes. Sometimes, you—still talking about me in this instance—gotta tell people what they're ready to hear."
Bunny rolled her eyes again. She stiffened as she looked down. He followed her gaze and realized he was still holding her hand.
His grip wasn’t firm, wasn’t demanding, just steady. Her fingers twitched before she slowly pulled away. She didn’t look at him as she tucked her hand into her lap, as if that simple act could put distance between them.
It didn’t. He let her have her retreat, but he didn’t let the moment slip away entirely.
"And I've never once ignored you, Bunny. Not since the day I met you. You've had my full focus and attention. I've just been waiting until you were ready to hear what I had to tell you."
"What do you have to tell me?"
"To see what's right in front of you."
"You're right in front of me." She still wasn't looking at him.
"What's right in front of you, who's right in front of you, is a man that desperately wants to kiss you."