Harley rocks back on his chair, smirking. “Hey, I resent that—Cade’s the one stabbing things. Anyway, I’m not cheating. You just suck. At life. And dancing.”
Samson stands up quickly, his chair toppling backward. “That’s it. I changed my mind. I’m going to murder him.”
Ansel’s face pales slightly, and I reach over and stroke his thigh soothingly. There’s nothing to worry about. No blood will be spilled.
Not much, anyway.
Samson barrels past me and Dalton, pushing Harley up against the wall. Harley’s response is to giggle in glee. “Is this all you’ve got? I barely feel it. You’ve atrophied.”
Samson bares his teeth at him. “I’m going to atrophy your brain stem.”
Suddenly, the large doors open, and Matthias, Wyatt, and hisbrother Jackson appear. They barely seem fazed by the fight happening, just looking for seats to take in the room.
“Oh, goodie, another fight,” Matthias drawls. “What did we miss?”
Jackson strolls past an angry Samson, who’s still strangling Harley, and takes a seat next to Dalton. He scoots his chair so close they touch.
Dalton stiffens but doesn’t move away. Everyone notices it, but no one says a word.
Matthias and Wyatt take the chairs next to Ansel and me, Wyatt leaning toward my frightened little butterfly and rolling his eyes. “They’re babies when it comes to games. I’ve met toddlers who are more mature.”
“I heard that,” Samson grumbles, and then suddenly, Harley has him at a disadvantage. He throws his elbow into Samson’s arms, making them collapse. Harley ducks down, shoving Samson back, and a moment later, the two of them go crashing onto the table. Uno cards go flying, my knife swaying precariously where I stabbed it.
I pull Ansel onto my lap, tucking him into me as the entire table shifts toward the wall.
“Oh fuck,” he gasps, curling into me as he watches in fascination. “This is almost like an action movie.”
“This is mild, really.”
“Are you sure? This seems very violent.”
“It’s nothing. One time, Dalton lost a tooth.”
Samson and Harley cry out as they roll onto the floor, and Wylder purses his lips before crouching down to gather all the Uno cards.
“I refuse to buy another fucking set because of these Neanderthals,” he says when he notices us watching.
“I think we should pivot to Monopoly. It’s less violent,” Dalton says, and Matthias agrees, helping our brother set up the board. I watch it all while soothing Ansel, who doesn’t seem as bothered by the action in front of us as he probably should be. Instead, he offers to hand out the money while Samson and Harley continue to roll around on the ground.
Eventually, we lure them away from attempted murder with thepromise of a pool of money in the center of the board. Actual money. Not the colorful shit. It’s enough to incentivize them to behave for a moment.
“They’re very easily distracted,” Ansel whispers. “And I’m surprised they’d even care about money. You’re fucking rich as it is.”
I lean over and kiss him softly. “It’s not about the money. It’s about winning. We hate the humiliation. Call it…childhood trauma.”
“And I always win,” Dalton says across the table.
“That’s because you cheat,” I crow, and Dalton smirks. Jackson is peering up at him, his cheeks slightly flushed, a look of pure adoration on his face.
Pity washes over me. Poor kid. He doesn’t stand a fucking chance. Dalton isn’t into younger men, especially men who can’t even drink legally.
“Now, now,” Wylder announces, “it’s time for you all to behave. We’re going to divvy up the tokens.”
Samson’s hands clench into fists. “You know I’m always the iron. Why the fuck do we have to divvy?”
Wylder eyes his brother. “You are always the iron, but maybe someone else would like a chance at it.”
Samson’s eye twitches. “That’s not the fucking rules and you know it.”
