Page 98 of Broken Trust
“There,” he says and lays a kiss on the bridge of her nose.
Jovie smiles at him. “Thank you.”
And the tightness in my chest somehow gets worse.
Which is fucking ridiculous. We’ve only spent a handful of nights together. We’re not even really friends.
They are.
Micah stands. “Who’s getting their ass kicked in horseshoes?”
“I’m in,” I tell him as I stand, welcoming the distraction.
A few minutes later, we’re gathered near the horseshoe pits.
Royce and Micah take one side.
Cabe and I take the other.
The others stay near the fire, watching and heckling.
Especially Charli.
She treats every family competition like a professional sporting event.
I toss first.
The horseshoe lands close enough to earn an approving whistle from Charli.
Micah follows.
Ringer.
Show-off.
Trash talk follows naturally. As it always does.
Royce misses badly, and everyone lets him hear about it.
Cabe isn’t much better.
For a while, we’re focused on the game.
Then my attention drifts back toward the fire. Toward Doc. She and Shelby are laughing about something, and she has a hand wrapped around a coffee mug Grandma Evelyn brought out.
That’s not going to help her sleep tonight.
And all of a sudden, I wish we were back at our cabins—just the two of us, sitting on the deck, keeping each other company as the hours pass, protected by the blanket of darkness.
“Ax!”
My attention snaps back to Royce.
“Your turn, man. Make it count.”
The horseshoe leaves my hand crooked and bounces uselessly.
“Damn it,” I mutter.
