Page 5 of Going All In

The Maddox Thing is what the guys have taken to calling my need to understand all possibilities and the likelihood of them occurring. Like with poker, most things have multiple possible outcomes, and each can be good or bad for each person involved. Like with poker, you can be dealt any hand to start, but the chances of certain combinations are limited. Knowing the probabilities and reading the players gives you an edge.

It’s why I’m a damn good poker player. So good that I’ve been able to do it for a living for a few years now, along with Cam and a few of our other friends. We review hands together, drive together to big tournaments. Poker is an individual game, but having buddies who understand and can help you improve is key.

My brain tends to look at card combinations, do the math, and ballpark the percentages of likelihood of winning a hand. I’ve never really understood how; it’s just something I’ve always been able to do. It’s been like this ever since I was little, when I took advantage of it to challenge kids on the playground to poker or blackjack. By the time I was twelve, I’d saved almost a thousand dollars that I’d won from schoolyard gambling.

It would be a cuter story if my mother hadn’t found the bag of quarters and dollar bills and taken it away, putting it in a bank account for me with a lecture about taking advantage of other kids. At least she gave it back—with interest—when I graduated from college.

The point is, I like to know all the possibilities and their likelihood of occurring before I place my bets.

And in life, the possibilities are infinite, which is really fucking annoying.

I push the phone into my pocket and ball my hands up for warmth. The air is so cold I can’t smell the usual dirty scent of the city, which is a small blessing. However, the frigid air has done nothing to clear my mind. All it’s done is sharpen my thoughts to clarify one thing: I like Holly. Like, reallylikeher. I haven’t been texting her every morning just for fun.

Is it the stepbrother thing that had her reeling tonight at dinner?

Maybe Cam is right, and she was just thrown off by the engagement announcement. Completely ignoring Cam’s directive, I start to list each one of the possibilities in my head.

One. She’s not ready to see her dad move on and was upset by the engagement. Seems like a reasonable conclusion.

Two. She doesn’t like my mom with her dad. Fair, but who wouldn’t love my mom? Everyone loves Judy. She’s the entire reason some of my ex-girlfriends hung on as long as they did.

Three. She was planning on blowing me off until she saw me at dinner, and that screwed with her plans. Fuck, I don’t like that one.

Four. She hates the idea of dating her future stepbrother.

Five. She thinks I kept the engagement from her on purpose.

Six.

I pause. So far, most of these possibilities would point to our relationship being doomed. In poker, when the overwhelming majority of possible outcomes are losses, you fold.

But even though I’ve only known Holly for a week, I’m absolutely sure of one thing.

I’m not folding. It may be the most ill-advised gamble I’ve ever made, and I may regret this. But I’m all in with this hand.

I’ll give her tonight to cool off. But tomorrow morning, we’re going to talk.

3

HOLLY

Ibang on JJ’s bedroom door. “THIS IS AN EMERGENCY.”

She opens the door, clutching a blanket around her, blonde curls wild around her face. “This better be good, Holly. I’m in the middle of something.”

Of course she is. It’s Friday night.

“It is. Or rather, it’s bad. Like, tequila bad.”

JJ snaps into bestie mode immediately. She opens the door wider, revealing a guy lying on her bed. “Get out, Andy.”

Five minutes later, Andy has vacated the premises and we’re sitting on the living room floor with a pack of Oreos and a bottle of tequila. I take a shot directly from the bottle, wincing at the taste as I swallow.

“Start from the beginning. You said this is about a guy? How did you meet him?” JJ bites into an Oreo.

“At Darby’s. Last week. Remember the guy I spent that one night with?”

She grins. “Oh, yeah! Mister One-Night Stand. You were kicking yourself for your loose morals or whatever all week.” She grabs the bottle from me and takes a swig.

---