“For mutiny,” I said.
Michael put a hand to his chest. “For honesty. For truth. For justice.”
Rafe stared at him for a second longer, then—finally—let out a small huff of laughter like he hadn’t meant to.
Michael’s eyes brightened, subtle but immediate, like he’d just won something.
“See?” he said, pointing at me. “Even Rafe agrees you’re dramatic.”
“I didn’t say that,” Rafe protested, but his mouth was betraying him now.
“You didn’t have to,” Michael said. “Your face did.”
I frowned. “My face does nothing.”
Michael slapped down three cards, drew three more, and then looked straight at Rafe like he was passing him a secret. “Okay, but for real—tell me I’m not imagining this. Daniel’s left eyebrow twitches when he’s bluffing.”
“That is not true,” I said immediately.
Rafe paused, eyes flicking to my face—studying, measuring—and then something mischievous flickered in his amber gaze.
“It does,” he said.
I stared at him.
Michael made a sound of pure victory. “Thank you.”
“Traitor,” I said, because that was the only word that fit.
Rafe lifted one shoulder, unapologetic. “You invited me to play. I’m just being honest.”
Michael laughed, delighted, and it warmed the whole kitchen for a second. “I like him,” he announced. “Can we keep him?”
“He’s not a pet,” I said automatically.
“I meant as a permanent houseguest who backs me up during arguments.” Michael’s grin softened as he looked at Rafe. “You’re officially my favorite wolf. Don’t tell Evan.”
Rafe dropped his gaze to his cards, but the tension in his shoulders had eased. Not gone. Just… loosened, like someone had quietly untied a knot.
When he looked up again, some of the haunted quality in his eyes had dimmed.
“Thanks,” he said, voice low. “For coming over. For this. I know you didn’t have to.”
“No, I didn't.” Michael shrugged. “But Daniel asked, and he doesn't ask for much. So here I am, losing badly at poker and pretending I don't notice that he keeps stealing glances at me when he thinks I'm not looking.”
“I'm not?—”
“You are. It's cute. Also distracting.” Michael laid down his hand. “Full house. Pay up, gentlemen.”
I stared at his cards. “That's the third full house in a row.”
“I'm very lucky.”
“You're cheating.”
“Prove it.”
I couldn't. But I also couldn't bring myself to care, because Rafe was laughing now, actually laughing, and Michael was grinning like he'd won something far more valuable than a poker hand, and for a moment, just a moment, everything felt simple.
