Chapter 22 Ivy
"Next up, Tulle Tug-of-War!" Kristal brandishes her sparkly clipboard again. "And since Carter's getting his ankle iced, we're doing pairs! One sits out from each team!"
She draws names with the enthusiasm of someone picking lottery numbers. "First match: Matt and Ivy versus Caleb and Virginia!"
Matt's entire face lights up as he bounds over to me like an overgrown puppy. "Ivy! Partner! We're going to crush this. I have strategies. So many strategies. First, we need to—"
"Second match," Kristal continues, "Dottie and Preston versus Magnolia and Greg!"
I grab the rope wrapped in tulle, which is way more slippery than it looks.
"Ready!" Kristal chirps.
Across from us, Virginia's giving Caleb instructions that sound suspiciously like battle tactics, while he keeps sneaking glances our way that I pretend not to notice.
"Set!" Kristal raises her whistle. "And remember, love is a battlefield, people! Make it count!"
The rope goes taut between us. Virginia yanks hard, but Matt's already shifting our stance.
"Left foot forward," he murmurs, and I follow his lead without question. "Now wait for it . . ."
Across the line, Virginia's getting frustrated. "Come on, Miller, my grandmother could do better than that."
"Funny," Matt fires back, "Sarah said the same thing about your last courtroom performance."
Virginia's eyes narrow. "At least I didn't peak in college."
"Nah, you peaked at being a pain in my—"
"Focus!" I hiss as the rope slips. Matt adjusts, and we're gaining ground.
"Just like old times, right little brother?" Matt taunts Caleb, who's fighting a grin. "Remember when I used to let you win at this?"
"Let me?" Caleb scoffs. "That's not how I remember it."
Virginia yanks the rope so hard my shoulder nearly pops from its socket. "Less family reunion, more pulling!"
Matt and I find our rhythm—step, pull, shift.
"Excellent form, Dorothy." Preston's voice carries from beside us.
"Thank you," she says sweetly. "Greg, honey, you're gripping too low. But then, you wouldn't know about proper form, would you?" Something tells me she's enjoying this more than anyone pretending to be polite should.
"Now Preston," Magnolia drawls. "Surely you could let your wife have this one small victory?"
"Lovebug, I adore you, but I didn't get where I am by going easy on the competition."
"Eyes front!" Matt's warning snaps me back to our own battle.
"What's wrong, little witch?" Virginia's voice drips poison. "Too busy reading tea leaves to focus?"
The rope goes slack so suddenly I stumble backward. Caleb dropped his end. "Oops," he says flatly. But he clenches his hands, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
Matt's victory cheer covers the tension, but I catch his wink at his brother. "Some things are worth losing for, right?"
"And that's round one!" Kristal announces. "Though I'm not sure about that release technique, Caleb."
"Your fault, Miller!" Virginia snaps, but Caleb's already walking away, not even pretending to care about her glare.
"Don't worry about it," Matt tells me quietly as Virginia storms off. "Some people just hit nerves they don't know exist."
"Ten seconds until round two!" Kristal calls out. "We're making memories here!"
"Hey Sarah-bear." Wyatt's voice carries across the lawn. "Remember senior year? That weekend at your parents' lake house when—"
I catch the exact moment Matt snaps. His jaw tightens next to me, and something shifts in his expression, like he's finally done pretending this is all fun and games.
"That's it." His voice is deadly quiet. This is Matthew Miller, the guy who once broke someone's nose for talking shit about his brother.
"Matt," Sarah warns.
But Wyatt, the absolute idiot, stalks closer. "Come on, Miller. You can't still be jealous of ancient history." My stomach turns as he brushes Sarah's arm. "Though some memories are worth holding onto, right?"
I barely have time to blink before chaos erupts. Matt launches forward, knocking into Wyatt, who backpedals, arms pinwheeling. They both tumble to the ground in a tangle of limbs and wounded masculinity.
"You wanna bring up the lake house?" Matt grabs a fistful of Wyatt's polo shirt. "Let's talk about how you passed out face-first in the guacamole before nine!"
Wyatt shoves back. "At least I didn't text Sarah's dad by accident asking if she was on birth control!"
They roll across the lawn, narrowly missing Kristal, who stands there in shock. Dixie starts filming on her phone, while Magnolia looks utterly horrified at this display of testosterone and grass stains. I step further away from the rolling bodies.
"Both of you, STOP!" Sarah's voice slices through the madness as she stands there, streaked in mud.
Everyone freezes.
"Wyatt, you're done!" Then she turns to her fiancé, who immediately lets go of Wyatt's shirt. "And if you don't start acting like the man I agreed to marry, instead of a territorial frat boy, you're sleeping on the couch until the wedding."
"But he—"
"Is an ass? Yes. Has been trying to get a rise out of you all morning? Obviously. And you're letting him win."
Matt scrambles to his feet, grass in his hair and regret on his face. "Sarah, babe, sunshine of my life—"
"Don't babe me when you have literal dirt on your face."
"But it's my warrior paint." He attempts a charming smile that somehow works despite everything. "I was defending your honor."
"My honor graduated law school. It can defend itself."
The corner of Matt's mouth twitches. "I know. That's why I love you." He steps closer, grass-stained knees and all. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to punch guys who talk about you like you're still available."
Sarah's stern expression cracks, just slightly. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously in love with you." Matt drops to one knee, taking her hand with exaggerated ceremony. "Sarah Bell, will you forgive me for acting like an idiot and still marry me Saturday even though I just tackled a man in front of your mother?"
A collective "aww" rises from the group, and I can't help but smile. This is so perfectly them—dramatic and over-the-top, and somehow still the most genuine love I've ever seen. I glance at Caleb, who's watching his brother with a grin.
"Get up, you absolute moron." But Sarah laughs. "And yes, I'll still marry you."
Matt jumps up and pulls her into a kiss that belongs on a movie poster, dipping her so dramatically that even I have to admit it's kind of swoon-worthy. I catch Preston mouthing "animals" to Magnolia, who nods in agreement, but is fighting her own smile.
"Well," Kristal claps her hands, "I think we could all use a break. Ten minutes, everyone!"
I grab a water bottle, watching Matt and Sarah across the lawn. "That was intense."
"That's one word for it." Caleb appears beside me, reaching for his own bottle. There's a smear of mud across his jaw, and I swipe at it without thinking.
"You've got . . ." My thumb catches against his stubble, and his breath hitches, just slightly, as I clean away the dirt. Those baby blues darken, sparking heat that pools low in my belly. "Saving me from looking like I lost a fight with the garden?"
My gaze drops to his mouth, catching on his crooked smile. When his grin widens, something electric snaps between us, thinning the morning air.
"Well," I manage, dropping my hand from his face. "Someone has to keep you in check. Though the garden's definitely winning this round."
He laughs, breaking whatever spell we'd stumbled into. "Speaking of cleaning up messes," he says, shoving his hair back, "seeing Sarah annihilate both their masculinity? My brother hit the jackpot with that one."
"Your mom was kind of badass out there, too."
His smile turns proud. "Right? I've never seen Dad so . . ." He mimics Greg's stunned expression perfectly, and I snort water through my nose.
"Very dignified, Shortcake."
"Shut up." I wipe my face with my sleeve. "By the way, nice work letting us win back there."
"Yeah, well." He shrugs. "Virginia was being a bitch."
"That's her default setting."
"True."
"Think if we fake an injury like Carter, we can escape this nightmare?"
"God, I wish." Caleb rolls his shoulder, wincing. "Though my arm's still dead from where you used it as a pillow all night."
My face burns, traitorous heat spilling into my cheeks. After spending all morning acting like last night never happened, now he's just . . . bringing it up? The shift gives me emotional whiplash, but I can't deny the little thrill that runs through me at him finally acknowledging it.
"I did not sleep on your arm." The lie comes out weak, especially since I distinctly remember the solid weight of his bicep under my cheek.
"Same way as you didn't talk in your sleep?" His dimples flash. "Because I've got some interesting intel that says otherwise."
"I don't talk in my sleep!"
"Whatever you say, babe." He winks, and my stomach does this stupid little flip. The casual endearment rolls off his tongue like he's been calling me that forever. "Though your subconscious has some fascinating opinions about me."
Is he actually flirting with me? Like, for real flirting?
"What did I say?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" His grin turns wicked. "Let's just say if your dreams were a movie, they'd get an NC-17 rating."
"You're making it up. My subconscious has nothing to hide." Except the hitch in my voice ruins the lie.
"No?" He steps closer, shrinking the space between us. "Then I guess I dreamed the part where you—"
"I'll take the couch tonight," I cut in, because apparently my self-preservation instinct kicks in right when things get interesting. "Save your arm from my allegedly aggressive cuddling."
"Not happening." His voice drops low, sending heat straight between my legs. "That couch is medieval torture. Besides . . ." He catches my wrist, thumb stroking over my pulse in a way that's definitely not innocent. "I kind of like when you mumble my name in your sleep."
My heart stops. "I did not—"
"Three times. But who's counting?"
Either Magnolia's weaponized bouquet knocked me out and this is some strange fever dream, or I'm hallucinating, because there's no way this is happening right now.
"Fine." I try for casual, but my voice comes out husky. "But if I start sharing state secrets in my sleep, you better wake me up."
"Not a chance." His fingers trail down my arm. "Though if you want to act out some of those dreams while we're both awake . . ." He lets the suggestion hang there.
I'm halfway to responding when Greg's voice cuts across the lawn. "Caleb! Get over here!"
He doesn't move, his eyes still locked on mine. "We'll finish this later."
"CALEB!" Greg bellows again.
"Coming!" He calls back, but not before throwing me one last heated look.
My eyes trail after him, trying to pinpoint when our usual banter turned into this game of sexual chicken. I don't know when the rules changed, but one of us is about to break.