Thatshedoesn’t affect me.
“Finn cheats at everything,” I confirm. “Board games, card games, rock-paper-scissors.”
“Betrayal!” Finn throws a card at me. “From my own boyfriend. The treachery.”
Melody laughs, and she perfumes; her scent becomes sweeter, warmer.
My pants suddenly feel tight and restrictive, and I grip my mug harder in response.
“You should join us,” she says, looking up at me.
“I’m good here,” I respond. “Someone has to judge the competition.”
The combined scents of Melody and Finn are driving me wild, and moving in any closer will give away the massive bulge in my pants.. Seeing Finn and Melody together, watching them bond, makes me happy.
“Go Fish is a legitimate strategic enterprise,” Finn insists. “It’s not just for children.”
“It absolutely is for children,” Melody counters, shuffling the deck with dexterity. “Along with Candy Land and Chutes and Ladders.”
“Next, you’ll be telling me Monopoly doesn’t tear families apart.”
“That’s different. Monopoly is psychological warfare disguised as a board game.”
I snort into my coffee.
Is this what people mean when they talk about home? Not a place, but a feeling. This sense of belonging, of pieces fitting together.
Finn catches my eye and smiles that smile, the one that’s just for me. The one that says he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
We’d talked for hours after the hot tub last night, working through what it would mean if Melody really was our missing piece, what it would mean for us, for Everett.
How we would potentially navigate the logistics of a four-person relationship when half of us live in the city and half in Snowflake Valley.
“We’ll figure it out,” Finn had said, curled against my side in bed. “If it’s right, we’ll figure it out.”
And looking at them now, I want to believe him. This could be our future: game nights and laughter, and cuddles.
Lots of cuddles.
“Royal flush!” Melody slaps her cards down with a triumphant grin.
“That’s not even the game we’re playing,” Finn protests. “We’re playing rummy!”
“I know,” she smirks. “I just wanted to see your face when I said it.”
Finn narrows his eyes. “You are dangerously close to replacing me as the troublemaker of this cabin.”
“I accept this promotion with great humility and—”
Her words cut off in a scream that has me on my feet before I even register moving.
“What?” Finn jumps up, cards scattering. “What is it?”
Melody’s pointing toward the window, where two large, dark eyes stare in from the darkness. For a split second, my alpha instincts kick into overdrive, ready to defend against whatever threat has appeared.
Then I recognize the distinctly unimpressed gaze of Oxford the llama.
“It’s just Oxford,” she says. “He scared the bejeepers out of me.”
