His forehead creased. “What makes you think I don’t?”
I shrugged. “You don’t typically make careless moves.”
A smirk lifted the corner of his lips. “How do you know I didn’t do it on purpose?”
I looked at the board, trying to figure out how the move he made could possibly benefit him. Maybe he had a spell that would allow him to return a creature from his graveyard and give it a special effect.
“Hmm.” I sighed. Only one way to find out.
I played the next few rounds very cautiously, but once I felt confident enough, I attacked with my best creature.
“Sorry.” He chuckled darkly as he played a card that killed my attacker.
“Ugh.” I huffed. “I knew you were holding onto something.”
He shrugged. “I always have a plan.”
I rolled my eyes, and we continued to play. Finally, almost an hour later, I made one last attack, winning the game.
“That’s the second time this week I’ve won.” I couldn’t stop my lips from forming a huge smile. It wasn’t that I never won. But he had more patience with the long-game strategy than I did and won more often because of that. I liked the action of attacking and playing spells, whereas he worked the entire game to build up his creatures, all the time holding onto one or two spells and then wiping me out in one fell swoop. I knew this, and still I played the way I liked. I enjoyed the action of the plays during the game, and I didn’t always need to win.
“I have to up my game.”
I chuckled. “Or just stop making insane plays that might not work out.”
“Sometimes you gotta take risks in order to win.” He sat back, staring at me intently. “Bigger the risk, bigger the reward.”
I tilted my head, assessing him. The way he said it made it seem like there was a hidden meaning to his words. Was he saying I needed to take more risks in more than just a game ofMagic? And what would prompt him to say that? Or was I just reading too much into his tone? Probably the latter.
When I yawned again for the third time in twenty minutes, he stood and tipped his head toward the hallway. “It’s late. You’re tired. Why don’t you go ahead to bed.”
I rose from my seat and searched his face. For what, I didn’t know. Just a weird feeling that something was left unsaid.
But fatigue had started to settle heavy over my body, and I knew I needed sleep. Tomorrow morning was my first physical therapy appointment, and if I wanted to get back to work in two weeks, then my shoulder needed to be at one hundred percent.
Reluctantly, I nodded. “Good night.”
“Night.”
After shutting the door to the guest room behind me, I leaned back against it, replaying the whole night in my head. Half scared that something between us had changed, and half intrigued about what it all meant.
Chapter Eighteen
ADAM
Replacinga faucet shouldn’t take very long. But clearly, when you’re distracted, it takes a hell of a lot longer than it should. My focus kept being pulled back to the living room where Lyla sat and talked with my mom. The way the two of them smiled and laughed, like they’d always known each other—it made me happy. Gave me hope.
And it made me want to fall to my knees in front of Lyla and tell her how I really felt.
“Don’t you agree, Adam?” my mom asked.
I looked up and over the breakfast counter into the living room. “Agree?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “How gorgeous this color blue is onLyla?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from saying she was gorgeous in any color. In front of my mom, before I could truly call Lyla mine, was not the time for such a declaration, so I nodded. “It’s very pretty.”
My mom raised a brow at me before turning her attention back to Lyla. I blew out a breath and got back to my task.
