Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Anna
Anna’s cards were fanned neatly in one hand as she eyed the discard pile with playful suspicion.
Her other hand drummed a steady rhythm on the table beside her, tapping out a beat that matched the light hum of conversation and laughter that filled the house.
She was sitting in an old plastic chair in the middle of her childhood living room, the same space where she’d learned to play gin rummy with her dad, her brother, and her cousins.
The old rug beneath them had been swapped out years ago, and the couch had seen better days, but this warm, buzzing joy of family gathered close hadn’t changed.
It felt like old times. Almost.
Her gaze lingered on the empty corner by the fireplace, where her dad used to sit with a bowl of popcorn and a sly grin, always claiming he had the worst hand and then laying down a perfect gin. The ache in her chest tightened, and she swallowed hard, forcing her eyes back to her cards.
Luke would love this. He would’ve had a sarcastic comment ready for every play, and he’d be teaming up with one of the kids to sabotage the adults just for fun.
The kids were part of the action now in their own way, cheering from the sidelines, dealing extra cards, or making up new rules that no one followed but pretended to for their sake.
When he returned from this deployment, Anna made a mental note that they would definitely have a game night so they could include him.
She smiled, despite the pang, glad to see that the darkness that hung over the house the past year had lifted. Her mother sat on a kitchen stool, laughing with Claudia and Margot. The color in her cheeks and light in her eyes was enough to reassure Anna once again that they would all be okay.
“Anna, quit stalling,” Cody said, nudging her knee with his foot. He was seated across from her at the table, cards in one hand, beer in the other. “Some of us are trying to win here.”
“Oh, is that what you’re trying to do?” she shot back, grinning. “Because all I see is a pile of trash in your hand.”
Jess snorted from where she sat beside Cody, her own cards held tight against her chest. “Trash talk from the girl who just picked up the ten of clubs like it was a golden ticket.”
“Hey, that ten has potential,” Anna said, squinting at her hand again. “Unlike Cody’s fashion sense.”
“I’m right here,” Cody said, laughing.
The kids giggled from the floor, where they were sorting game pieces and stealing sips of lemonade. Someone had put on an old playlist, and ’90s hits floated through the air, mingling with the smell of brownies fresh from the oven.
Anna finally laid down a few cards and then groaned when Cody immediately called, “Gin!”
“You have got to be kidding me,” she said, throwing her hands in the air.
“Never,” Cody said, laying out his hand with exaggerated flair.
“Ugh, he’s the worst,” she told Jess, who was already laughing.
“You walked right into it,” Jess said, nudging her with her shoulder.
It felt good to laugh like this. Not the polite, surface-level chuckles she’d become accustomed to. This was belly-deep, tear-in-your-eye laughter. Safe laughter. The kind that only came from being completely yourself with the people who knew you best.
They kept playing, round after round, with scores scrawled on a torn notepad and rules constantly bent to favor whoever was losing.
They teased and bickered and reminisced about their childhood games, the way her dad used to sneak candy to them under the table, how Uncle Henry once tried to cheat by hiding cards in his sock, or how Jess used to demand theme music for every hand she played.
At one point, Anna leaned back against her chair and just watched everyone. The room glowed under the soft light of the table lamps. There was a sense of ease, of wholeness, even in the face of the pieces that were missing.
Her mom caught her gaze from across the room and gave her a little wink.
Tears stung Anna’s eyes but she blinked them away quickly.
There was nothing to be sad about tonight.
Tonight was about remembering what it felt like to be full.
To be seen. To be part of something that had roots deeper than pain.
Eventually, the game dissolved into chaos as the kids begged for their turn and rules devolved into shrieks of laughter and declarations of “That’s not fair!” The adults gave in, because no one could say no to a six-year-old in fairy wings and a glitter crown.
Anna found herself seated at the edge of the carpet, helping her niece sort the deck and pretending not to notice when the little girl kept dealing herself all the jokers.
Cody was showing Blaze how to properly shuffle, though he kept messing up just enough to make him laugh.
Jess had migrated to the couch with her mom, their heads together in quiet conversation.
Uncle Henry was retelling a story from his youth with dramatic flair, a red Solo cup in one hand, the other gesturing wildly.
“So there I was,” he said, eyes wide, “stranded on the lake, one paddle, no map, and your Aunt Claudia on the verge of tossing me overboard.”
Claudia rolled her eyes but smiled. “Because you told me you knew a shortcut, Henry. We ended up stuck in lily pads for two hours.”
Laughter erupted. Margot leaned back in her chair, sipping lemonade. “Classic Henry. You and your ‘shortcuts.’ Between you and my Will, I don’t know how we ever ended up anywhere on time.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard an Uncle Henry story that didn’t involve a shortcut.”
“They always end in disaster and a good story,” Jess said with a grin.
Cody chuckled. “Disaster’s a strong word. I prefer ‘unexpected adventure.’”
“Like the time he tried to deep-fry a turkey in the garage,” Anna added.
Henry held up a finger. “That was science.”
“It was nearly arson,” Lily said, carrying a bowl of fruit salad.
Maisie grinned up at Anna, cheeks flushed. “Auntie Anna, can we have popsicles yet?”
“Did you eat something real?” Anna said, pretending to be stern.
“Hot dog counts!” Blaze declared.
“Almost,” Cody said, handing him one with a wink.
The kids settled at a small table nearby with their food, occasionally interrupting the adults with questions about ketchup and whether swallowing watermelon seeds caused you to grow a watermelon in your belly.
“I noticed Henry brought his guitar,” Margot said with a bright smile.
“I think it was just second nature to grab it and bring it along,” he said with a soft chuckle.
“Well, if you brought it, I think it’s better out than in the bag,” Cody said with a smile.
Henry hesitated for a moment before he pulled out his guitar. The familiar strum of chords brought an instant hush to the gathering.
“You gonna play ‘Sweet Caroline’?” Margot asked.
“You know it,” Henry said. “But only if everyone sings.”
Anna rolled her eyes fondly. “Do we ever not?”
He launched into the first notes and everyone joined in, shouting the chorus with off-key gusto. Even the kids chimed in, though Maisie mangled the lyrics with impressive creativity.
Claudia wiped a tear of laughter from her eye. “That song is never going to be the same.”
Anna looked over at her mother and the tears that she hadn’t shed.
There wasn’t a game night that she remembered that didn’t end in this moment.
Uncle Henry playing his guitar and her father singing along to “Sweet Caroline” or whatever other song Uncle Henry could play for him.
The two of them could have had a life on the road, maybe, but they were perfectly content with living room concerts.
Uncle Henry, the man who had stoicism on lock, had watery eyes when he ended the song. Anna felt a pang in her chest. She’d never seen her uncle emotional until now. It was a lot to take in, and she was missing her father even more now.
“We needed this,” Claudia said on a sigh.
Anna exhaled, letting herself relax into the evening. “Yeah, we did.”
“Do you remember when we were their age and Dad told us that story about the haunted barn?”
“I didn’t sleep for a week,” Anna admitted.
They laughed until their sides hurt.
As the night wound down, the kids bundled into sleeping bags in the living room. Henry strummed soft lullabies, his voice low and soothing. The adults lingered with warm drinks and tired smiles.
Anna looked around at the faces she loved. Family. Loud, messy, wonderful family.
She leaned her head on Jess’s shoulder. “Let’s do this more often.”
Jess nodded. “Let’s not wait for an excuse.”
Anna smiled, eyes on the glowing tent and the stars beyond. “Deal.”
Anna barely felt the hollow place in her heart over the aching in her belly that remained from laughing so hard. She looked around at the people she loved and felt something like peace.
And that, she thought as her brother smiled at her from across the room, would always be enough.