Page 47 of Carrick
We took our seats. Maddy settled across from Bellamy, already smirking. Sully cracked his knuckles like he was preparing for battle. “Tonight’s format is teams. Me and Maddy. Carrick and Bellamy. Jax and Deacon.”
Jax groaned. “Why do I always get Deacon?”
“Because he’s the only one who doesn’t emotionally react when you tank the game.”
Deacon nodded once. “Correct.”
Bellamy leaned closer, voice low. “You ready to kick these losers’ asses?”
I smirked. “You have to seduce me first.”
She grinned. “Already did.” And damn it—she was right.
Round one hit like chaos incarnate. Which, frankly, was standard. Sully rolled first, exploded out of his chair like a cannonball, and bellowed “DESTINY” like he was storming the beaches of Normandy. Bellamy didn’t even blink. She set her first settlement on a high-yield intersection like she’d been plotting my downfall since breakfast.
Maddy narrowed her eyes. “I know that look.”
“What look?” Bellamy asked innocently.
“The ‘I’m smiling, but I’m absolutely going to set your cities on fire’ look.”
“She’s bluffing,” Jax said. “She’s too new.”
Bellamy smiled wider. “You can believe that if you want.”
I leaned back in my chair, watching her play with a kind of surgical precision I hadn’t expected—but should have. Herpoker face was ruthless, her resource strategy calculated down to the bone.
She wasn’t just good. She was composed, cutting, and clearly enjoying herself in a way that was both sharp and unguarded. Every time she passed me a card or muttered something dry and scathing about Sully’s port placement, it carved out a space in my chest I didn’t want to name. Something that felt too soft, too dangerous, and far too tempting to examine while I still had my hands on the table.
Sully pointed at Bellamy across the board. “You’re the reason I don’t trust public libraries.”
“Good,” she said sweetly. “We don’t trust you either.”
Jax tossed a card into the discard pile. “I swear to God, if one more person blocks my wheat?—”
“I’m sorry,” Bellamy interrupted, “were you using that to win?”
Maddy nearly choked on her popcorn. “She’s evil. I love her.”
Deacon didn’t speak—he never did during Game Night. He just built, moved, waited. Silent strategy. Quiet war. And still, Bellamy didn’t just keep up. She led. Every trade we needed, she worked it. Every block, she found the angle before I could suggest it.
Somewhere along the way, she stopped treating me like a temporary guest on her board and started treating me like a partner. Her voice dropped for private asides, her fingers brushed against mine when she passed a card, small touches that weren’t loud or obvious but landed with enough weight to knock something loose in me, anyway.
“You good with this?” she murmured when offering me a monopoly card she could’ve used for herself.
“Take it,” I said.
“I want your opinion.”
I looked at her—really looked. The flush on her cheeks, the fire in her eyes. And the very slight, subtle tremble of adrenaline in her hands.
“You already made up your mind,” I said.
She smiled. “Yeah. But I wanted to see if you’d agree.”
Fuck.I was in trouble.
Sully stood and waved his arms. “I am beingpersecuted.”
