Page 112 of Stuck with my Brother's Firefighter Besties

Well, Jaxon and Ryan were glaring. Colt was busy making exaggerated finger guns at Mason Grady, who was laughing so hard he nearly dropped the soda he was holding.

“Look who decided to show up,” Ethan Grady called out from their lane.

His voice carried easily over the din of the crowd, smooth and full of that dry humor he was known for. He leaned casually against the ball return, his arms crossed over his chest.

His gray T-shirt was slightly smudged with grease, and I had no doubt he’d come straight from the shop. He gave me a small nod, the kind that felt like it was both a greeting and a subtle acknowledgment of the chaos around him.

“Hey, Ethan,” I said, giving him a wave.

“Careful hanging out with the fire crew,” he teased, motioning toward Jaxon and the others. “They’ve got a reputation for being sore losers.”

“Big talk coming from a team that hasn’t even bowled a single frame yet,” Jaxon shot back, his voice dripping with mock indignation.

“I think they’re just stalling because Ethan’s afraid of my curveball,” Colt chimed in, grinning as he leaned an elbow on Jaxon’s shoulder.

“Afraid?” Ethan arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You’ve got a better chance of getting a strike blindfolded than landing that so-called curveball.”

“Blindfolded, you say?” Colt tilted his head. “Don’t tempt me, Grady. I love a challenge.”

“Challenge yourself to hit the pins first,” Owen muttered from the bench, not even bothering to look up as he laced his bowling shoes.

His voice was low and calm, but his words cut right through the banter, earning a laugh from Mason.

“That’s Owen for you,” Mason said, clapping his older brother on the shoulder. “Always finding the most devastating way to say something with as few words as possible.”

“And yet you manage to talk enough for the both of us,” Owen replied, his tone as dry as the Sahara.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I sat down next to Samantha. “This is going to be fun.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she said, leaning closer. “The Gradys have been talking smack all week, and the fire guys are determined to shut them up tonight. It’s like watching a soap opera, but with bowling shoes.”

She wasn’t wrong.

The next hour was a whirlwind of dramatic celebrations, exaggerated failures, and more shit-talking than I could keep track of.

Every time someone landed a strike, the room erupted into cheers or groans, depending on which team you were rooting for.

Mason, true to his reputation, took every opportunity to flirt… mostly with Colt, which was hilarious to watch.

“Colt, buddy, you’re looking tense,” Mason said, slinging an arm around him after Colt narrowly missed picking up a spare. “Maybe you need some pointers. I’ve got a mean hook shot I could teach you.”

“Pointers? From you?” Colt shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “Last time I took advice from you, Mason, I ended up covered in beer and explaining to a very angry bartender why there was a live fish in a beer bottle on the bar.”

“That was one time!” Mason protested, holding up his hands. “And, technically, that was Owen’s idea.”

Owen didn’t even look up from his coffee, but I could see the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Don’t drag me into your nonsense,” he said.

Meanwhile, Ethan and Jaxon were locked in a battle of wills, each trying to out-bowl the other. Every strike Ethan landed was met with an exaggerated groan from Jaxon, and every time Jaxon missed, Ethan would tap his imaginary watch and ask, “Is this where you give up, or do I have to keep humiliating you?”

Biscuit had been sitting quietly by my side… until now.

“Biscuit, no!” I gasped, too late to stop him as he darted under the snack counter, his stubby legs carrying him toward the lanes with surprising speed.

In a flash, he was chasing a wayward bowling ball that had rolled off course, his little paws skidding on the polished floor.

The entire alley fell silent for a split second, everyone frozen as Biscuit zigzagged between players and balls. Then the laughter erupted, loud and uncontrollable. Even the usually stoic Owen was laughing as Jaxon bent down to scoop up Biscuit mid-run.

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