Page 8 of Big Risks

"Who said anything about dating?" Jace chimes in. "Start with coffee. Or a conversation that lasts longer than three sentences."

"You guys are worse than Olivia," I grumble. "She already informed me that Nurse Hailey is pretty and smells like cookies."

The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize my mistake. Three pairs of eyes light up with predatory glee.

"Nurse Hailey, huh?" Tucker grins. "On a first-name basis already?"

"That's what Olivia calls her," I say defensively. "Deal the cards, Jace."

"So you noticed she's pretty." Brody presses.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't deny it when Olivia said it."

"She's seven. I don't argue with seven-year-olds about their observations."

"Smart man," Tucker says. "Kids see right through that shit, anyway."

Jace deals a new hand, but the conversation isn't over.

"You're allowed to live, you know," he says quietly, examining his cards. "It's been five years."

The familiar knot forms in my stomach. "Drop it."

"All I'm saying is—"

"I said drop it." My tone leaves no room for argument.

An uncomfortable silence falls over the table. I immediately regret my sharpness.

"Two cards," I say, softening my voice. "And I know you mean well."

Jace nods, dealing me two new cards. "Sometimes the ones who crack us open aren't the ones we expect," he says after a moment.

I stare at my new hand, a pair of jacks, no help at all. "Is that from one of your girl's self-help books?"

"Fortune cookie, actually," he admits. "But it stuck with me."

"Profound wisdom from processed sugar," Tucker muses. "Raise twenty."

The conversation shifts to Tucker's latest rodeo and Brody's kid's latest adventures. I participate enough to avoid further scrutiny, but part of my mind remains stuck on Jace's fortune cookie philosophy.

The ones who crack us open. As if I want to be cracked open. As if I haven't spent years carefully sealing every crack, reinforcing every weak point.

And yet, when I think of warm blue eyes and a smile that reached places I thought were long dead, I wonder if some barriers are meant to be temporary.

By midnight, I'm down thirty bucks and the guys are heading out. Brody lingers behind as the others load into Tucker's car.

"Sorry if we pushed too hard," he says. "We just worry."

"I know," I say, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm fine, though."

"Sure you are." He doesn't bother hiding his skepticism. "But maybe 'fine' isn't all there is."

After they leave, I clean up the empty bottles and chip crumbs, then check on Olivia, who sleeps soundly clutching her stuffed elephant. Her Band-Aid is starting to peel at one edge. I should replace it tomorrow.

Back in the living room, I find myself at the closet again, staring at the shoebox on the shelf. But tonight, I leave it where it is.

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