He smiles, and I pull him in for a hug.
“Matt?” he says, looking up at me.
“Yeah?”
“Can we get something for my Grandma? I told the judge I wanted to live with you. She told me not to feel bad, but… I do.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“And then can we get ice-cream?”
I laugh softly, glancing at Jordan, who’s smiling big. “Sure, buddy.”
I pat his back and reach for Jordan’s hand.
“Let’s go home.”
Chapter Fifty
JORDAN
Three Months Later
The spinner ticks,the clicks slowing as it comes to a stop on the Game of Life board.
“Five,” I say, picking up my yellow van and moving it five spaces. “Trade salary card with any player.” I laugh, clap my hands together, and shout, “Yes!”
I throw my hand up to Cole for a high-five. He smacks it with a grin, and I swipe Matt’s salary card from in front of him, replacing it with my shitty twenty-thousand dollar one.
“This is bullshit,” Matt says.
I just laugh while Cole makes an L with his thumb and index finger, slowly drags it across his forehead, and says, “Sucks to suck,” before bursting into laughter.
I glance between Matt and Cole, and we both lose it even harder.
Matt’s arms are crossed, one eyebrow lifted high, completely unamused.
Game nights have quickly become one of my favorite parts of the week. Matt always wins. Every. Single. Time. But Cole and I love teaming up and giving him shit. It’s too much fun, and most nights we end up laughing until our sides hurt.
“How does it feel to no longer be the breadwinner?” I ask, smug as hell. I have absolutely no reason to be. I’m losing by a long shot.
“So far I’m not loving it,” he says flatly. “You must be one hell of an artist if you just stole my doctor salary.”
“I’m obviously very good.”
He scoffs. “Fuck this,” he mutters under his breath.
I suck in a dramatic gasp, whipping my head toward Cole with wide eyes.
“You owe me another ice-cream,” Cole says coolly.
“Seriously?” I say to Matt. “You’re going to give him diabetes.”
Matt’s never been great at filtering, so he made a deal with Cole: every time Matt says the f-word around him, he owes Cole ice-cream.
It’s not going great. Matt owes him more ice-cream than he can keep track of. It’s mostly for fun anyway. It’s not like Cole doesn’t hear worse at school or in the music he listens to. Hell, he probably says it behind our backs. I know I did at that age.
“Well, Christ. I’ve been sitting pretty this whole game,” Matt grumbles. “Doctor. Highest salary card. Best house.”
