Page 112 of Wild Card

“Oh, good, the trio of terror has arrived.” Jewls brushes past us to the three older women on the back patio.

“Trio of terror?” I question no one in particular.

“Jewls’ old neighbors. Ronnie, Janice, and Bea are appointed grandmothers to the twins,” Harley updates me on the newcomers.

“Jewls likes her nicknames,” I note, remembering the names for her brothers and cousins. “But that reminds me a little of my grandma.”

“Sorry they couldn’t make it tonight.” Harley seems genuinely disappointed.

“They were up early to babysit me since no one thinks I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

“Stop falling down and getting hurt and you won’t need babysitters,” Bex mocks.

A muster of kids runs by and I reach out in time to grasp Wyatt’s head. “Where’re you going?”

“We’re roasting hotdogs. Grandpa said it was time. Then we can do s’mores!”

My dad, Chase, Ace, Declan, and Major have set up a buffet on the other side of the patio by the firepit.

I’m about to tell him to get a towel because of the chill in the air, but notice none of the other parents seem worried about it.

“Have fun, be careful.”

“Dad and Uncle Talon are going to teach me.” He takes off, swarming in with the rest of the children.

Jewls join us, introducing Ronnie, Janice, and Bea to Bex and me.

“I always knew Talon was a smart one,” Ronnie comments.

“Told you,” Jewls replies knowingly. “Even if he did hide her from us.”

“He had his reasons. Sometimes it’s best to keep it close to the vest, especially when there’s resistance.”

An unease settles low in my stomach, and I take a large sip to avoid eye contact. I don’t know these women, but it’s clear Ronnie is referring to me.

“Resistance isn’t a bad thing, especially with her position. It’s challenging to navigate dating your patient.”

Bex snorts and I kick her foot to shut up.

The hairs on my arms stand right before a warm hand caresses my neck. “You doing okay, Princess?”

I tilt my head, my breath catching at the beauty of Talon’s blue-gray eyes. “I’m great.”

He studies me, assessing if I’m overwhelmed or uncomfortable. It’s amazing how I can feel every beat of his concern. When he warned me that the ‘casual and low-key cook-out’ would most likely include local celebrities, I may have freaked a little while fretting over what to pack for the night.

“Honey, I’m really great. Who won the game?”

The concern on his face turns triumphant. “Who do you think?”

“Oh, shit, this means Robbie and Finn are out for redemption. Why can’t any game just be fun?” Ember asks.

“Because they’re big, bad Marines, and competition is in their blood.” Presley plops down on one of the barstools with an exasperated expression. “Finn is sullen and demanding a rematch. Good thing I brought pajamas for the kids because we may be here all night.”

“It won’t take all night for us to whip their asses again,” Talon boasts proudly.

“That’s enough, it’s girl time!” Shayla claps her hands and throws one arm toward the firepit and the other to the grill. “Time for you cavemen to fix our dinners. We slaved all day over the rest. The least you can do is handle the meat.”

“Shayla, you didn’t do anything,” Harley calls her out.

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