Page 97 of Wild Then Wed
We’re packed around the dining room table—plates cleared, wine half-finished, and a deck of cards that’s probably older than Hudson being shuffled like it’s a sacred ritual. The kitchen smells like leftover pie and cinnamon-sweet soap from where we’d all taken turns scrubbing. After dinner, Ridge, Boone, and I washed every last dish, dried every pot, and tucked allthe leftovers into Tupperware that somehow never has enough matching lids.
It was the least we could do for Mom and Loretta, who spent all day keeping us alive.
Now, Jack is curled up on Mom’s lap, his cheek smushed against her arm, one thumb still in his mouth. Lainey’s out cold on Loretta’s, her curls matted to her forehead, a tiny fist clinging to the hem of Loretta’s sweater. They’re both snoring through the noise.
How they sleep through this nonsense, I’ll never know.
Loretta’s hair has fallen loose from her clip, soft brown waves curling around her jaw. Mom’s barefoot now, and one hand rubs slow circles on Jack’s back while the other rests on her knee. Neither of them are playing—they’re just watching and laughing and occasionally throwing in sarcastic commentary like peanut gallery royalty.
The teams tonight aredangerous.
Lark and Ridge on one side—the twin flames of competitiveness. They arewaytoo synced for this game. They play like they’ve trained together in a Spades bootcamp, throwing down cards with military precision and unspoken cues that are honestly a little creepy.
Boone and Hudson are opposite them, and while Boone knows how to play, Hudson is fourteen and easily distracted and occasionally forgets that Spades isn’t Go Fish.
They’re down by thirty points and Boone is spiraling.
“Hud,” Boone says now, trying to sound calm but mostly sounding like a man being slow-cooked in his own resentment, “did you mean to play the queen of hearts or did you just panic again?”
Hudson blinks. “I thought we were supposed to get rid of the high ones?”
“Notin the middle of a hand where we’re trying to win!”
Miller, seated beside me, sips her wine and leans over just enough to say, “This is better than reality TV.”
“You bid six books,” Ridge says, flipping over his last card like a showman. “And made three.”
Boone exhales through his nose. “That’s what happens when you have a toddler for a partner.”
“Rude,” Hudson says mildly, “but not inaccurate.”
“You could put me in,” I offer. “I’ve got a decent poker face.”
Boone waves a hand. “Nah. We’re building character.”
I settle deeper into my chair, sipping tea that’s gone cold, watching the people I love most in the world argue over strategy and bluffing and whether Ridge can actually count cards (he can, but he pretends like he can’t just to annoy Boone). The dining room feels too warm, the windows fogged at the edges from leftover heat and too many bodies. And still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
Especially not this.
The noise. The mess. The easy love beneath all the shouting. It’s loud and chaotic and more real than anything I’ve felt in days.
The back door creaks open and slams shut again in that familiar way it always does when it’s cold out, and a second later Sage walks in, cheeks flushed pink from the wind and Elvis padding behind her like her less-competent shadow.
I look up to ask, “How are the horses?”
“Junie’s been moody as hell today. Must be the cold,” Sage says, peeling off her coat. “Rook stepped in a bur and acted like he’d been shot. Moose is pacing. Springsteen is good, though.”
“Sounds about right.”
She hangs her jacket in the closet with practiced ease, then kicks off her boots and pads into the room in her socks, hair still messy from her braid, wisps clinging to her forehead. Elvis trotsin after her and, like clockwork, makes his way over to me, rests his head squarely on my lap, and sighs like it’s been a long day.
I scratch behind his ears. “You’re the worst working dog I’ve ever met.”
Elvis just stares up at me.
Sage glances at the table and lets out a dramatic little huff. “You guys started playing Spades without me?”
Boone doesn’t even look up. “You were gone for forty-five minutes.”
