20. Rowan
ROWAN
Game night is…not what I was expecting.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, to be honest, but it wasn’t this.
First, their setup is unlike anything I’ve seen before. The cavernous room holds a poker table, a roulette wheel, and then a large wooden table. That’s where we’re all sitting. Or at least, most of us.
“You cut off my ore supply,” Dalton snarls in Cade’s face. “You did that on purpose.”
Cade doesn’t seem even slightly bothered by the fact his brother has him in a headlock. “Literally the point of the game, Brother.”
“Stop being a sore loser,” Wyatt drawls. “It’s your go.”
No one other than me blinked an eyelid at the antics. From the quiet whispers and handfuls of money being exchanged, I suspect this is usual behavior. I’m thankful Dotty decided to have Nugget sleep with her tonight. The mischief is high enough without adding him into the equation.
I lean closer to Samson, who’s watching this unfold with amusement. “I thought this was meant to be a simple game of Catan.”
He shoots me an amused look. “It’s never simple with the Buckinghams.”
Ansel clears his throat from beside me. “Titan, can we end this now, please? I want to play.”
Cade winks at his boyfriend from the headlock before sucker punching Dalton in the gut.
I stiffen in alarm, but Dalton socks Cade straight back in the face.
They exchange a few punches before the door slams open.
There’s an unfamiliar young man standing there.
He’s tall, with ripped muscles and a five o’clock shadow on his face.
His attention immediately falls on Dalton and Cade, lip curling in distaste. “Really?”
Dalton slinks back a few steps, looking sullen. “Yeah, that was… I didn’t start that.”
“And you’re meant to be the mature one,” the stranger says, his words heavy with sarcasm as he takes long strides into the room. “Way older than me, for example. Someone who knows better than to exchange punches with his brother like some kind of drunk frat boy.”
He drops into the seat beside Wyatt before noticing me. “Shit, sorry. You’re new.” His eyes track over me, and he grins softly. “Hi. I’m Jackson.”
Jackson. Right, that’s Wyatt’s brother. I definitely need a family tree and a map of the house. This entire thing is making my head spin. “Hi. I’m Rowan.”
“Ah, Samson’s…friend.” He waggles his brows at me. “Being given the initiation, I see.”
My brows draw together. “Initiation?”
“Game night,” he elaborates, gesturing to where Cade and Dalton are finally retaking their seats. “Otherwise known as the time when the Buckinghams aren’t the fancy, shmoozing, well-to-do family they present to the world.”
Dalton ignores what Jackson just said as he glowers at him over the table. “What are you doing here? I thought you had finals.”
“Finished last week,” Jackson says breezily, not breaking his gaze from Dalton’s. “Which you’d know if you ever picked up my calls.”
I’m not the only one closely watching the exchange. Every eye is on the two of them. There are even more piles of money being passed over the table.
“Cut that shit out,” Dalton barks as he notices Neo scratching something down in a notebook. “I already told you, you’re wasting your fucking money.”
“That’s right,” Jackson says. There’s no missing the challenge in his voice. “Because Dalton’s far too old and mature for me. As we just saw.”
The tips of Dalton’s ears redden. “I am mature.”
“Really?” Jackson jerks his chin at Dalton. “Because I bet you’ve got something belonging to Rowan in your jacket right now.”
My brows fly up. What?
Samson leans over me to growl in his brother’s direction. “Give it back to him right now.”
Dalton sighs, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. He holds out my phone with a sheepish grin. “I would’ve given it back before the end of the night.”
I take it from him gingerly. “Okay, that’s…weird.”
“It’s a hobby.” Dalton shrugs.
“No stealing from Rowan again,” Wylder barks before turning his glare on Samson. “And put your dagger away. He won’t go near him again.”
I whip my head around to see Samson sheathing his dagger with a grumble. But then my attention is drawn back to Dalton and Jackson, who are bickering over the table in low voices.
“What’s happening?” I whisper in Samson’s ear as the two get louder.
“Fuck knows,” Samson whispers back. The heat of his breath on the shell of my ear has me grateful there’s a table over my lap. “Unresolved sexual tension, I guess. We’ve all got a pool going on whether or not it’ll ever be resolved.”
I study the two of them through fresh eyes. Jackson’s an adult. Early twenties, if I had to guess. Dalton’s probably a decade older, if that. A similar age gap to two of the other couples at the table. Seems weird if that’s what’s holding Dalton back.
But who am I to judge? I’m just a dancer who uses smiles to keep everyone at a distance, and who cares for others because I failed to care for the only person I ever loved.
A loud knocking sound comes from my right. I do a double-take to check that yes, that really is a gavel Ansel is using.
“Wrap it up,” he says cheerily. “It’s Harley’s turn.”
“Fuck yes,” Harley says before smirking at Samson. “Have to say, it’s quite nice to be able to play without you at my throat. Rowan will have to come to all game nights in the future.”
I glance at Samson, my lips twitching. “You’re normally the one causing trouble?”
“Not my fault,” Samson grunts. “It’s Harley’s.”
Harley rocks on the back two legs of his chair, not even attempting to take his turn. “How?”
“Because you’re a fucking dick,” Samson barks at him. “Don’t even ask him what he did with the Monopoly tokens.”
I try not to. I do. But I can’t help it; I’ve always been more curious than wise. “What did you do with the Monopoly tokens?”
Harley lets his chair fall onto all four legs so he can lean closer to me over the table. He reaches out and dusts his finger over the back of my hand. “See, Samson’s never been very good at sharing his toys. Doesn’t like anyone touching his things.”
A flash of silver catches the corner of my eye. I twist my head to see Samson palming his dagger. His glare toward his brother is nothing short of murderous. “A lesson you’d be wise to remember right now.”
Harley winks at me before pulling his hand back and settling into his chair. “Just yanking your chain. You know I’d never cross that line.”
“A certain chef wouldn’t like it if you did,” Neo says idly. “Why isn’t Jules here tonight?”
Harley’s whole demeanor shifts. His hands fist on the table as he stares down at them. “He’s not part of the family, as he keeps reminding me.”
“I’m not part of it either,” I pipe up. “Is that really a requirement?”
“No,” Wylder says, his eyes lingering on Samson. “But it depends on the circumstances.”
I feel like I’m missing something, like they’re all speaking some secret language I don’t understand. But when I glance inquiringly at Samson, his expression is closed off. “Harley, you taking your turn or what?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I watch as he takes his turn, slowly building a road toward Samson’s expansion path.
Samson growls, making Harley laugh.
“Why do you always fuck with me?” Samson says, his voice low.
“It’s too fun. At least I’m not swallowing your sheep.”
Samson cups the small white blocks in front of him, and I turn toward him. “Why would anyone eat a game piece?”
“To fuck with me,” Samson growls, and Harley laughs even harder, his body lurching forward, making Samson startle.
Some of his pieces fall to the ground, and he curses, trying to collect them as Harley scrambles under the table.
Chaos erupts after that. I don’t know how it’s possible, but the two grown men under the table have done it. Money is jostled, bills fluttering through the air, shouts as something is lit on fire, and then to top it all off, Nugget appears.
I don’t know how he manages to get through the shut door, but he’s right by my legs, scooping up Samson’s game pieces and chomping on them happily.
“Fucking dog!” Samson shouts as he and Harley fall to the floor right beside my chair. “Fucking Harley.”
Samson’s hand is squeezing his brother’s cheeks, and I watch as game pieces spill out.
I can do nothing but stare. This entire thing is wild, not at all what I was expecting. I guess I was thinking they’d play a boring game of chess or something, all while sipping on expensive whiskey.
Well, there’s whiskey, but right now it’s on fire and has set some of the table ablaze.
Doesn’t help that Cade is screaming and Wyatt is jumping to his feet with a sigh, grabbing a bucket from by the wall, and disappearing behind the bar to fill it with water.
Wait, do they have that bucket there for this exact situation? If so, how often does this happen?
Chaos is still unfolding. Poor Samson is trying to carefully extract his leg from Nugget while wrestling with Harley. Given how merrily Nugget’s humping it, I don’t think he’ll be giving it up any time soon.
I lean in to remove my dog before he can add to the carnage, but I’m too late.
Nugget has lifted his leg and is peeing…right over Samson’s pant leg.
I’m mortified, but it doesn’t stop the two of them from fighting.
Until it does.
Suddenly, they freeze, and then Samson scrambles up, his eyes furious. Not at me, never at me, but at the world.
Just as he’s about to explode, Dotty appears, gathering Nugget up and cooing at him, then disappearing before anyone can blink. As she goes, I swear I see a small smile on her lips, and I wonder if she opened that door and let him in.
I don’t know. I just move my gaze back to Samson, who is staring at his wet pants, then moving his gaze to the spit-riddled gaming pieces on the floor next to Harley, who is still lying there, a grin on his lips, his hands folded behind his head.
“I think you better take Samson away, maybe for a nice long shower before he explodes,” Ansel says quietly. He sweeps his hand toward the now-dripping tabletop, and I nod.
I stare at him incredulously. “Is it always like this?”
“Yes.” His lips twitch.
“And they keep doing it?”