Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
Emelia
Istride into the kitchen after everyone else has arrived.
After Elliott’s confession on the dock last night, I got the feeling he was avoiding me this morning.
The truth is, he’s probably regretting inviting me to poker night by now, so I figured I’d make it easier on him and come out of my room at the last minute when we had others to distract us.
Every head in the room swivels in my direction as I emerge from the hallway.
“Hi, guys.” I raise my hand in a half wave.
“Emelia, how are you doing?” Roy smiles from his seat at the end of the table. The first time I met him, he was wearing a boy-band T-shirt, and tonight he’s wearing a Sheryl Crow one. Quite the range.
“Hi, Roy. Clyde.” I nod at the older man. “Where’s the rest of your crew?”
“Marlene had something she dragged Sam to tonight, and Jimmy was feeling a little under the weather.”
“I see. Well, I’ll do my best to fill in for them.”
“Can you lose five hands in a row? Because last week—”
“Clyde,” Elliott cuts him off. “Let me finish the introductions before you launch into a story.” He turns and looks at me. “Emelia, this is our middle brother.”
“Ansel,” I finish.
“So my reputation really does precede me.” Ansel smiles.
He has Elliott’s dark hair, but his eyes are brown. He’s wearing worn jeans, a T-shirt, and a backward baseball cap, the ends of his hair flicking up at the back. And the playful grin on his face definitely isn’t anything I’ve seen on Elliott. It’s way too carefree.
“Baylor has talked about you. Good to meet you.” I shake his hand.
“Well, I am her favorite uncle.” He holds my hand for longer than necessary, giving me the once-over.
“Ansel.” Elliott’s voice cuts through the room. A one-word warning.
Ansel’s expression says, “Nice to meet you,” but beneath the smile, I think he’s evaluating me. I’ve seen plenty of my own family members give this look. It’s the same one I’ve seen Trey give to every man Althea’s ever brought home.
“What?” Ansel drops my hand. “Unlike you, I’m being welcoming. This is my welcome to poker night face.” He points at his mouth and grins.
Elliott rolls his eyes and motions to the only other man. “This is our youngest brother, Hollis.”
Hollis is already seated at the table, leaning back with his ankle resting on his opposite knee. He has the same dark hair as his brothers, but his facial hair more closely matches Elliott’s, given that Ansel has none. And the blue eyes match his oldest brother’s.
Unlike Ansel’s loud and obvious appraisal, Hollis studies me in a quiet, thoughtful way. His eyes carry more weight than Ansel’s, and the thought that still waters run deep immediately comes to mind.
Hollis raises his beer in greeting. “Good to meet you.”
“There’s beer in the fridge, Emelia. Help yourself,” Roy says.
“We’re not at your place tonight, remember? I can offer her a beer,” Elliott says, walking over to the fridge.
Ansel and Hollis chuckle quietly, sharing a look.
“Well then, do it so we can get started.” Roy shuffles the cards sitting on the table in front of him.
“You want a beer, Em, or do you prefer wine?” Elliott has one hand draped over the top of the fridge door, and he’s bent forward looking inside, so he can’t see the way I go still when he shortens my name. It’s something only those closest to me have ever done.
“I’m good with a beer. Thanks.”
Elliott plucks one out of the fridge and twists the cap off, tossing it in the garbage before walking my way and passing over the bottle.
“Thanks.” I walk over to the table, not entirely sure where to sit. I choose to sit across from Hollis, thinking Elliott can sit next to him. That way, he doesn’t have to sit beside me.
But Elliott drops into the seat next to me, while Ansel takes the seat beside Hollis, and Clyde takes the seat at the opposite end of the table from Roy.
“So you’re the one. My brother’s new roommate.” Ansel looks at me.
“Temporarily. Until the bunkie is fixed.” I bring the beer to my lips.
Ansel looks at Elliott. “How’s that going? The repairs? Moving quickly?”
“They’re moving at the pace they move, Ansel.”
Someone was out here earlier in the week to take a look and suggest the best method to make the repairs. I think Elliott plans to do a lot of it himself, but he said that some of it he may have to contract out.
“Sure. No reason to rush.” Ansel shrugs, exchanging a glance with Hollis.
“Definitely not,” Hollis adds.
“The beam is cracked.” Elliott’s tone is one of no argument, but I have a feeling this family isn’t that much different from my dad, Uncle Cade, and their brothers.
“I believe you.” Hollis assumes his most innocent expression.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. The undertone is clear—they assume Elliott is dragging his feet. But they couldn’t be further from the truth.
“Buy-in’s five dollars,” Roy says, moving the subject along. Thank you, Roy.
We play the first few rounds, and I keep it low-key, trying to get a feel for how everyone plays.
I’ve played poker a lot with various members of my family.
In fact, my dad and Uncle Cade started a Friday night poker league at the brewery and restaurant they own together that was always really popular.
Since I was forced to work there as a teenager, I picked up some things.
Clyde talks through every single decision he makes as though it’s a running monologue in a movie. “Now, I could fold here, but that feels like the coward’s way out. And I didn’t come here tonight to be a coward. I’m going to call—no, raise. Wait, no, call. Final answer.”
“It’s five dollars, Clyde.” Roy looks down the table at him from above his reading glasses.
“Please, it’s the principle.” Clyde shakes his head.
Ansel plays recklessly and joyfully, the way I suspect he does most things—just jumps in with the first cards he’s dealt and has faith he’ll work it out.
Hollis, on the other hand, is thoughtful and precise in his betting patterns.
While he seems to try to give off the impression that everything he does is casual with little thought given to it, I’m pretty sure it’s the exact opposite.
He’s reading faces, filing information away, and using that information to make his decisions.
Elliott plays the way he does most things—controlled, patient, revealing nothing.
I win the fourth hand, and no one says anything. When I win the sixth hand, Clyde squints at me.
“You’ve played before,” he says.
With a slight tilt of my lips, I shrug one shoulder. “Never said I didn’t.”
“Never said you did, though.” Clyde actually looks as if he may be offended I didn’t come out here telling them I was a world champion poker player or something.
Ansel laughs. “Do we have a ringer on our hands? Are you holding back?”
I sip my second beer and roll my eyes. “Hardly.”
“Either way, I’ve got my eyes on you.” He points two fingers at his eyes and back at me.
Hollis and I quietly chuckle while Roy shuffles the cards.
Under the table, Elliott’s knee shifts and presses against mine, just enough that I suck in a breath. I should move away, pull my leg back to my side, but I don’t, and neither does he.
“I’ve been wondering something.” I’m not sure why, but I feel the need to break the silence that’s fallen at the table.
“Yes, I am single,” Ansel says with a wink in my direction. “Crazy, right? I don’t understand it either. I’m the catch of this town.”
Elliott’s leg presses against mine.
“I’ll be sure to warn anyone who asks,” I say.
Ansel rocks back in his chair and places his hand over his heart as though I’ve shot him. “Keep saying things like that, and I’ll be on my brother’s side.”
Ignoring his antics, I voice the question I’ve been curious about since shortly after I arrived. “Why do they call it Echo Lake?”
They all turn their eyes to Elliott, as if it’s his responsibility to tell me, or they’re surprised he hasn’t yet.
He nods to the men. “I’ll take you out on the boat and show you some time before it gets too cold,” Elliott says.
Ansel and Hollis share another look, but I ignore it.
“Oh, okay. Thanks.” I glance at Elliott and smile, then turn my attention to the cards Roy dealt.
Elliott’s knee nudges mine, but I’m not sure what to make of it or why neither of us has pushed away from the other.
“I took a date there once, back in high school,” Clyde says.
“Boy, those were the days. Twenty bucks in your pocket and a free Saturday afternoon, and you felt like the King of England. Back then, old Marge Biscayne was the school librarian. I used to have a crazy crush on her. Turns out I might have had a chance because word was she…”
Clyde carries on with his story that takes another five minutes to finish, and by the end of it, I’m thoroughly confused as to who’s who, the role they play in the story, and what exactly happened to Marge.
The game goes on for another hour and a half, and by the end, I’m up twelve dollars.
All the cards get thrown into the center, and Roy scoops them up with his big hands, adjusting them into a neat pile before wrapping an old rubber band around them.
Elliott gets up from the table, grabbing a couple of empty beer bottles. “Anyone want to stick around for a fire out back?”
“I’m gonna head out.” Roy looks down the table at Clyde. “You’re with me. I’ll drop you off on the way.”
“Fair enough.” Clyde fixes his attention on me. “Good to see you again. You’re invited back to our game whenever you want.”
I smile at him. “Thanks, Clyde. I’m honored.”
The two older men say their goodbyes, then head out while I help Elliott clean up.
“You gonna come join us at the fire?” Ansel asks.
“I don’t think so. I’m pretty—”
“Daddy?”
We all whip around to find Baylor standing at the edge of the kitchen, wearing the cutest little pajamas with teddy bears on them, rubbing her eyes.
“What are you doing up, kiddo?” Elliott walks past me to her.
She yawns.
“C’mon, I’ll put you back to bed.” He holds out his arms to pick her up, but she backs away, shaking her head.
“Get out of the way, she wants her favorite uncle,” Ansel says.
“Which would be me.” Hollis steps in front of Ansel before he can reach Baylor.
Baylor shakes her head. “I want Emelia to do it.”