Page 72 of Came the Closest
“Understood,” Jordan confirms.
“Aye, aye, matey,” I say with a salute.
Gran smiles serenely and arches the cards in a perfect bridge. “Wonderful. Here’s how tonight’s going to work: Rather than playing for something another person has, we will each be playing for what we individually commit to.”
“Not understood,” I say, holding up a hand. The word commit still chafes against my skin uncomfortably. Like the lightest weight cotton on a sunburn. “Please clarify.”
“In the spirit of this weekend’s theme of commitment, we each choose one thing to commit to,” she says matter-of-factly. “Graham’s is obviously predetermined for him—to love his wife and love her well when she takes his name tomorrow.”
“Okayyy,” Jordan says slowly. “But there’s only one winner. What, are they exempt?”
“Oh, no, darling,” Gran assures him. “The winner only has to commit. The loser gets to dance with me tomorrow night whenever I ask him to.”
Graham snorts. “Probably should just quit now.”
“But,” Gran adds. “Before we get started, I have a stipulation.” She pauses. I think it’s mostly for dramatic effect. “I want Jordan to go get your sister.”
Jordan shakes his head. “No.”
Graham hesitates. “He has a point. This is our tradition.”
“He only said no,” I say, bewildered. “How can you tell if he had a point? He didn’t have a point.”
“Telepathy,” Graham says lamely.
“Oldest-youngest silent communication,” Jordan replies. “OYSC for short.”
Lifting my brows in challenge, I say, “Well, I’m with Gran. She should be here.”
I say this partly because I like getting a rise out of my brothers, but mostly because I mean it. I understand that Jordan is unnaturally cautious because of his military and law enforcement training. It’s the only way a guy can survive what he’s been through. But overseas missions and detective cases have nothing to do with Indi being our full-blooded sister whether he likes it or not.
She didn’t say anything when I told her and Cheyenne about tonight, but she wouldn’t. Something tells me that, under her prickly exterior, she doesn’t want to be a hindrance to anyone. But unfortunately for her, I see through the façade.
She wanted an invite.
“Those are the terms,” Gran says primly. “Take ‘em or leave ‘em.”
Jordan’s jaw tenses and he runs his tongue over his teeth, but he pushes back from the table. He pulls his keys from his pocket. “Deal her in. But if you stack that deck,” he adds, hand on the doorknob, “you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
“Ooh.” I pretend to shiver feverishly. “You and Grammy need to stop with those insults. They make me tingly in strange places.”
My oldest brother doesn’t respond to my wisecrack. He disappears out the front door and, a minute later, the taillights of his truck are headed down Graham’s gravel driveway. I could text Indi to give her a heads up, but Jordan’s a big boy. He can handle it.
“So.” I crack my knuckles and look between my brother and grandmother. “Who wants to do the stacking honors?”
“I want an instant replay of that.”
Jordan eyes Indi warily. “This isn’t football.”
“Maybe it’s baseball,” she counters. “Basketball. Hockey. Soccer. Golf. What’s the common denominator there, hotshot?”
“They’re televised and this game isn’t.”
“Graham might have security cameras,” Indi says. “You just never know with him.”
Graham lifts his brows. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. Never know when someone is gonna cheat.”
Jordan rolls his eyes. “Says you.”