Page 27 of Our Elliana

The twins, Oliver and Kayden, are three years younger than Aaron, yet from the time they could walk, they insisted on joining us, too. Once we moved to D.C., basketball became one of the things the four of us did to relieve stress.

Our apartment complex might not be the best in the city, but it has a clean and well-maintained court where we can shoot hoops. Now that my siblings are fifteen and twelve respectively, they’re good at giving me a better run for my money.

I miss that.

Many of the people I fight fires with like to play ball as well—both baseball and basketball—and once they found out that I usually went in as a center while shooting hoops, they challenged me to compete during some of their pick-up sessions.

After the firehouse and all our equipment has been scrubbed and repaired, that is. Gutiérrez-Pedro, the only woman firefighter in our ladder company, is the best at three-point shots, while Cunningham is the best guard.

Yet my height means I can block and rebound like nobody’s business.

Regardless, the skills I developed in these areas of my life have not prepared me for sharing a house with Elle, Tristan, and Jackson. I’m attempting to find my footing with people I’m still getting to know.

Maybe it’s the unpredictability.

One minute, I’ll come home to see Elle and Tristan all serene and cuddled up on the sofa watching TV, and the next, I’ll wander in right when Jackson and Tristan are sniping at each other. Usually, they do this only if she’s not there, but not always.

At other times, it’ll be tranquil here. Jackson will be playing a song on his guitar that almost reminds me of a hymn while Tristan flambés something over the stove and Elle does yoga in the living room. All of us men really enjoy it when she does that.

Even me.

So basically, my new abode either has a great environment or an uncomfortable one. I just never know which from moment to moment.

It’s too bad that the other men don’t seem to like each other because I get along fine with them both. I do feel like Elle’s been going out of her way to unite us. Maybe that’s why one Sunday when all four of us are there together, she suggests we play a game. That part doesn’t shock me. What does end up shocking me is the name of that game.

“I want to have some fun.” She eyes each of us individually. “Tell me you’re all in.”

I glance briefly at the other two. We’re here to do her bidding, so it’s not as if we’ll say no. Besides, how terrible could fun be?

Tristan nods.

Jackson pulls his customary smirk. “You know I am, sweet thing.”

“Me, too,” I say.

“I hope you’ll like it,” she drips out the information as if it’s in an eyedropper.

“Is this going to be another break-the-ice type of thing?” Tristan grinds out, sounding as long-suffering as Job from the Bible. “Like Hot Seat?”

“No. It’s going to be poker.”

Relief floods me.

The guys and gals at the firehouse play poker all the time, and when they found out I didn’t, were all too eager to teach me how. Well, “teach” might not be the right term. I learned through trial and error as well as a loss of fifty bucks that first time.

Poker can be expensive when you don’t know what you’re doing. After that, I observed everyone else until I had a handle on it, then folded anytime things became—to borrow one of their phrases—“too rich for my blood.”

“Nice,” Jackson remarks with a feral look in his eye.

“And since playing for cash is so unnecessarily cutthroat, we’ll stick to the strip version,” Elle suggests, and I’m not sure if I understood her correctly.

“The strip version?” I rasp out.

“Strip poker is where you take off an item of clothing rather than paying with your cash every time you lose a hand,” Tristan explains. “The winner is the last one not buck-ass nude.”

My neck feels like it’s just been roasted on a spit.

Yet it’s as if there are multiple sides of me battling for supremacy. The original me who recently left the church and feels that such an activity is not only immoral but scandalous. And another more secular version of me who’s now lain with a woman a full nine times—yes, I’ve been counting, so sue me—and well, likes it.

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