“You’re welcome over anytime, Erin. But I hope you know what you’re signing up for.” Brax chuckles. “He’s a brutal teacher. Brodie has a permanent sour cherry shape indented into his stomach from when he was first learning the rules.”
“I’m a fast learner,” she says. “And I bet if we teamed up, we could convince Bella to build your treehouse. As long as your dad’s cool with it.”
Brax’s eyes narrow.
“Uh oh,” Roman’s voice drops to a whisper, his eyes mirroring Brax’s stare perfectly. “He’s giving youthe look. That’s his,I’m a detective and I’ll arrest your punk assface,” he says, mimicking his dad’s tone to a T.
“Roman,” Brax mutters, daggers aimed squarely at Oliver. Oliver’s grin tells everyone exactly who Roman learned that one from.
“Swear jar?” Oliver says. The tension between Brax and Oliver is palpable, but it’s the playful kind that’s existed between them for years.
Brax raises his brow.
The swear jar rules are simple. We pay if we swear in front of Roman. And we pay if Roman repeats something he’s picked up from us.
“Ass is still ten bucks, right?” Oliver adds.
Roman looks up at Oliver, deadpan.
“That’s twenty now,” Hayes says, smirking. Oliver groans, fishing back inside his wallet.
“Your boy is corrupting my kid, Papa Bear,” Brax mutters, taking the cash and pocketing it.
Hayes shrugs. “WIP, Detective.”
“Thanks for the cash, Olliepoop,” Roman says as he wriggles to get out of my arms.
Brax barks out a laugh, and Austin coughs into his beer.
Oliver pinches the bridge of his nose and gags.
“Roman, my guy, you said you weren’t going to tell anyone about that,” he says, dramatically holding his chest like he’s been wounded.
Roman’s grin widens, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Dad says the truth hurts but you should always tell it anyway because you gots to be honest and honesty is the bestie’s policy. Isn’t that right, Dad?”
“Honesty is the best policy, kiddo. Not besties,” Brax corrects, his voice full of affection.
“Olliepoop?” Erin asks, raising an eyebrow at Roman, her lips twitching.
Roman starts spinning the tale. “For my birthday last year, we had a huge water fight at my house. My dad, Uncle Brodie, Uncle Chasey, and Jack were on my team. Hayes, Austin, Oliver, and Rudy were on the other team,” Roman says, happiness emanating from him.
The memory brings a grin to my face. I can picture it perfectly—the popping of water balloons, the chaos of bodies running around, the way the air was filled with laughter.
“Oliver tripped while he was running away from me to get to his base. He landed in Barney’s dog poop,” Roman says, giggling so hard his small body shakes.
Everyone chuckles at Roman’s infectious laughter. Even Oliver, despite his best attempt at sulking, can’t help but let out a chortle.
And just like that, Erin is one of us.
For a while, it continues just like this.
Laughter. Jokes. Stories. The subtle hum of the music and clanking glasses. In between it all, Erin unwinds, her guard continuing to drop the more comfortable she becomes around my friends.
“You got a second?” Brax asks, whiskey glass in his hand when he approaches me.
I glance back at Erin. She’s laughing with Roman, her face bright, and body relaxed in a way I haven’t seen before.
We step to the side and hover by a wall. Brax glances around, making sure there’s no one around.
