Chapter 31 #2
Halfway through the evening, when the snack bowls were running low and the competitive energy was reaching fever pitch among the two-legged members of the family—all the four-legged ones had found quiet corners to nap in—Emmaline gathered up the empty popcorn bowl and slipped toward the kitchen to refill it.
Without even thinking about it, I followed, because nothing in me wanted to let her get too far out of reach.
She was leaning into the pantry, stretching up to reach something on the higher shelf, when I slid up behind her, my arm curling around her waist as my mouth found the warm, soft curve of her neck just below her ear.
She startled for just a moment, then melted back against me with a soft sigh, laughter bubbling up from her chest as she half-heartedly swatted at my wandering hand. “Bodie,” she whispered, her voice soft but thick with amusement and something warmer, “we’re not exactly alone here.”
“Don’t care,” I murmured against her skin, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with the lingering sweetness of the snacks.
“Well, clearly,” Dean’s voice drawled from the doorway, and I could hear the smile in his tone before I even turned around.
He was leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, grinning wide enough to split his face clean in half.
“For God’s sake, it’s great that you two are already planning on giving Grandma Elsie more great-grandkids to spoil, but maybe wait until after the Uno tournament is over? ”
Emmaline went crimson from her neck to the tips of her ears, and I straightened with a growl, turning to glare at my brother.
“Mind your own damn business,” I said, but Dean was already doubled over with laughter, holding his stomach as he headed back toward the living room undoubtedly to share this little scene with everyone else.
When we returned to the table with a fresh supply of snacks and drinks, the entire assembled crew was already hooting and hollering with barely contained glee.
Fletcher cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed, “Save it for later, Chief!” Blair was giggling so hard her cards started dropping out of her hand, Elena was shaking her head with fond exasperation, and even Grandma Elsie was muttering something under her breath about “wild pups who can’t keep their hands to themselves” that made everyone laugh even harder.
Emmaline buried her face in her hands, still laughing despite her obvious embarrassment, and I sat close enough that my thigh pressed against hers under the table.
Let them all see. I didn’t care who noticed or what they thought about it.
The game rolled on like a thunderstorm—loud and unpredictable and absolutely chaotic.
Oakleigh threw down a Draw Four with a triumphant shout that could probably be heard in the next county, Dean pretended to keel over dead, and Blair cackled with unholy glee when she managed to slip out her last card and claim victory for that round.
Emmaline leaned into the noise and chaos like she’d been part of it forever, and all I could think about was how damn right it felt to see her here, as one of us.
But Dean’s earlier crack kept echoing in my head, settling deeper and taking root in ways it probably shouldn’t have.
Kids. A real family. I hadn’t let myself picture it before tonight, hadn’t allowed the thought of any kind of future past our business arrangement to take hold and grow, but now it planted itself in my mind and refused to budge.
Sitting here, seeing her laugh and spar with my brothers, watching her fit so seamlessly into this loud, chaotic family dynamic, I could see it all with startling clarity.
Her here, always. The table even louder and fuller, kids with her warm smile and my stubborn chin running around causing the same kind of loving mayhem.
I tucked the thought away for later examination, but my heart was hammering harder than any card game could warrant.
By the time the last hand was played and the snack bowls had been scraped clean, Emmaline had gone quieter.
Nobody else seemed to pick up on it. She was still smiling when Blair teased her about her ruthless playing style, still nodding and laughing when Grandma Elsie good-naturedly accused Oakleigh of sneaking two cards instead of one when she discarded—but I felt the shift in her energy like a change in atmospheric pressure.
Her laugh didn’t come quite as quick or as bright, her shoulders curved just a little inward, and there was something distant in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.
Something had changed during the evening, and I couldn’t put my finger on what or when.
When we said our goodbyes amid a chorus of hugs and promises to destroy each other again next week, and stepped out into the cooler night air that carried the hint of approaching autumn, I reached for her hand.
Our fingers laced together, and I gave her a gentle, questioning squeeze.
She squeezed back without hesitation, but that new quiet quality stayed with her as we walked to the truck and loaded Rubble in the back.
I made a mental promise to myself that I’d ask her about it when we got home, when we had privacy and time to really talk. Whatever was weighing on her mind, whatever had caused that subtle shift, she wasn’t going to carry it by herself. Not anymore.