Page 71 of Came the Closest

BOGO Sale at Hank’s Hardware! one side reads.

On the other, in Colton’s beautifully choppy handwriting, it says, Paint anything or paint nothing, Fini. But whatever you do, paint for yourself. P.S. Will you be my wedding date this weekend?

Tucking a smile into my shoulder, I hold the paper up against the cedar shake siding, and I write back, I thought you’d never ask.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Too-Small Twin Bed

Colton

If you would’ve asked me ten years ago which of us brothers would get married first, I’d have laughed and said none of us. If pushed for an answer, I’d have said Jordan. It would be a tie between Graham and myself for who would never get married.

But here we are. Tomorrow, my baby brother, who swore he’d never fall in love, is getting married. If everything goes as smoothly as rehearsal, it will go off without a hitch—but also with one.

My brothers and I are having one last poker night at Graham’s house with Gran before the big day. Before one of us is a husband. It’ll take a minute to adjust to Graham no longer being my unattached baby brother whose only flirtation is with the line of workaholism.

“All right, boys.” Gran shuffles the deck nimbly and looks around the table. Eye contact is impossible, because she wears hot pink sunglasses that are overly bedazzled. “Here’s how this

works—”

“Gran,” Jordan interrupts. “We’ve been playing for years. I think we know how it works.”

She looks at him—at least, I don’t think she’s looking at the coffee pot on the counter behind him. “I don’t mean the game itself. I mean this game in particular.” Her smile is downright mischievous. “Graham is going all in by marrying Ember tomorrow, so tonight, my darlings, the stakes are higher.”

I level a flat look at my brothers. “Higher than walking away with the keys to my truck for a day?”

Graham shrugs. “Fair is fair.”

“Fair,” I say, “is not stacking the deck when someone steps out to take a phone call.”

“To be fair,” Jordan says, “we’ve never specified that rule.”

“If that was a pun, it wasn’t punny.”

Jordan smiles, slow and deliberate. “But I’d venture to say it’ll be pun once we actually start playing.”

I narrow my eyes. “Oh, c’mon, J-Lo. You’re a dad. Dad jokes are funnier than that.”

Graham tilts his head back and forth, stacking his chips. “That’s debatable.”

“Yeah, but—”

Gran clears her throat, and then, for good measure, taps her unnecessary reading glasses against Jordan’s root beer bottle. “All right, all right. Do I need to remind you that we do not have all night? The groom should be well rested for his own wedding, yes?”

“Yes,” Graham confirms. “And we all know Colton needs the maximum amount of beauty rest if he’s going to be standing beside me.”

Jordan glances at his watch. “Well, that ship has sailed. He should’ve been in bed an hour ago.”

“It’s nine-thirty,” I say dryly.

Jordan shrugs. “Most kids are in bed by half past eight.”

“I—”

“Boys,” Gran interrupts again. She even tips her shades down to pointedly look at each of us. “I have the stand right now. Understood?”

Wordlessly, Graham nods.

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