Page 57 of Maverick

"Seems a little ass backwards is all. I mean, you do you, son, but if it were me, I'd use some of my money to support some sort of nonprofit that helps with these things, or start my own. Not sure I'd spend every waking hour trying to save everyone." She casually takes another bite of her pancakes, as if she didn't just question my integrity, my intelligence, and my motivations.

"That's not what I'm doing." It's not. I know I can't take on every case. And I do fund a bunch of organizations that help people with their legal problems. But it's not wrong to take on whatever I have the capacity for, is it?

Her eyebrows wing up. "No? Ok, honey. Just seems to me you're awfully busy. You don't seem to have much time for a personal life."

I'm hyper aware of Cadence's eyes on me, but I can't meet her gaze. Fucking Nan is right, I don't have much time for a personal life, but I'm trying, aren't I?

"Well, I'm free this weekend. So pickleball?"

"If you want to come and play with us honey, I won't stop you. You're going to have to sign a waiver before they'll let you play. How's your heart?"

Wait…what? I open my mouth to try and get a little clarity on what the fuck I'm walking into, when the door flies open and Nick, Bree, Jonas and Janey all walk in. The women immediately sit down, chatting with Nan and Cadence, nibbling on the last of the pancakes.

Jonas and Nick head into the kitchen, sniffing the air. "Smells good in here. Is there anything left?" Nick asks.

Nan looks like she'd hop up and make them fresh pancakes, but I shake my head at her. "Don't. If you offer, you'll be in therean hour. Nick will convince you to make waffles too, then bacon, and before you know it the whole damned day is gone."

She grins and eyes my brothers. "Sorry boys, kitchen's closed."

Nick sighs, and gives Nan a mournful look, and I watch her visibly steel herself against offering to cook. Nick has that effect on women, so I hurry and change the subject. "What are you guys doing here?" It's not unusual for my brother to walk right in. We don't lock our doors unless we absolutely require privacy, and the truth is I haven't had anyone over here in way too long.

It's their women that answer. "We're going to the rescue today to help Cady. Then we're going for lunch," Janey says.

Jonas clears his throat and Bree gives him a look. "No boys allowed." He scowls at her, and gives Janey a sad look. She looks completely unbothered. If he had his way, Jonas would crawl inside Janey's pocket and go everywhere with her whether she wants him to or not. Admittedly, I used to think it was a little pathetic.

Now I get it.

"So Mav, what are you up to today?" Nick asks, leaning against the counter.

"Nan's taking me to the seniors center with her, to play something called pickleball."

Jonas's eyebrows shoot up. "Pickleball?" His eyes go hazy, like he's imagining carrying a giant pickle to the endzone. "Like with actual pickles?"

Nan laughs, shaking her head. "No, honey. It's a game, like tennis but with a different ball and paddle."

"Huh," Nick says, looking intrigued. "Are there any pickles involved at all?"

"Not unless you bring your own," Nan says dryly, looking at the three of us like we just failed kindergarten. It’s a mix of exasperation and affection.

"Damn," Nick says, snapping his fingers. "I was hoping for some sort of pickle-themed sport. Like, you have to balance a pickle on your paddle while you play."

"Are the paddles shaped like pickles?" Jonas asks, frowning.

Nan's lips are twitching. "No, honey. Pickles don't have anything to do with it."

Jonas opens his mouth again, still fixating on the name, and Nick shoves him. "Hey," Jonas says, and shoves his elbow into Nick's gut. Nick grunts and laughs, moving out of the way of a second hit.

"It's just a name. Just like football doesn't actually have anything to do with your feet."

Jonas groans and covers his eyes. "Stop talking about it."

"But, do you get to eat pickles if you win?" Nick asks, needling him.

Nan's laughing, and so are the women. I'm busy shooting dagger eyes at my brothers. Today was my chance to talk to Nan about Cadence, and now these two colossal distractions want to tag along. How the fuck is this going to work?

"There are no pickles. None. Not to eat, no pickle shapes. Nothing."

"Are the paddles green?" Jonas asks seriously.

---