Penny covers her eyes. “Daddy, Pickle is going to jail.”
From Court 1, Caleb exhales through his nose. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”
Boone doesn’t say a word, just watches the carnage with the resigned calm of a man assessing a structural failure.
Silas lifts the megaphone like he’s been waiting his whole life for this moment.
“That’s an official foul, folks! Absolutely criminal behavior!”
Pickle ignores all of it and heads toward the food tables.
I sprint after the dog.
“No, no, no, not the cornbread!”
Pickle leaps.
I brace for tragedy…
But a strong hand catches Pickle mid-flight.
Jesse’s tattooed arm flexes like in a scene from an action movie.
Pickle hangs there, offended.
Ivy cheers, “Fireman snatch!”
Olivia rolls her eyes. “He’s going to start charging for that move.”
Leo mutters, “He already does.”
Karl winks. “Only for birthdays.”
I blink at Jesse. “Thank you. I spent ages making all of that.”
He gently hands me Pickle. “Hazard pay appreciated.”
Pickle licks my chin.
Sadie tugs me forward. “Hurry! Daddy is warming up!”
Boone stands over a board, shoulders tight, expression carved from stone, focused as a sniper.
Caleb stands at his side, warm and quietly competent, guiding Sadie through the “official” rules even though none of the rules here are official.
Silas strolls up with swagger. “Ladies and gentlemen, say hello toBOONE ‘THE BEANBAG BANSHEE’ TAYLOR! A man whose precision is rivaled only by his inability to take a compliment!”
Boone shoots him a death glare.
Silas laughs. “Sexy glare. Ten out of ten.”
Caleb hides a laugh behind his cider.
Boone throws… perfect arc, perfect drop, dead center.
The crowd screams like someone just proposed.
Sadie jumps into Caleb’s arms.
