Page 27 of One Pucking Wish

“I mean, we’re not doing that,” I scoff. “We’re not having any heart-to-hearts or whatever. I don’t do that shit.”

“What shit? Talking about yourself? Your family?”

“Exactly.”

“What about with your friends and the team? You don’t ever share with them?” she questions.

I shake my head. “No, first of all, my only friends are the team. Second, sharing isn’t my thing.”

She blows out a breath. “Okay, well, where do your parents live if not Michigan?”

“No.”

“Are they alive?”

“I said no,” I state more firmly.

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, so…we can’t talk about ourselves. You won’t play a card game with me. What do you want to do, then?”

“You know what I want to do.”

Her brows furrow as a scowl finds her face. She drops the deck of cards onto the bed and stands. Hands on her hips, she paces back and forth over the narrow pathway between the bed and the bathroom. “I don’t want to do that anymore,” she says finally.

“Why?” The question comes out loudly.

She turns her palms toward the ceiling in an annoyed gesture. “I don’t know. I just don’t.”

“You seemed to enjoy it the night we got here and all day yesterday. I thought our arrangement was working. What changed?”

“It just started to feel like…”

“Like what?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know, or you won’t say?” I hold her stare in mine.

“I don’t know,” she says quietly.

“Fine,” I huff out. “Get over here. I’ll play your stupid card game.”

I don’t believe her for one second. She’s not telling me something, but I can’t fault her for it. I’m not telling her anything. If there’s one thing I understand, it’s wanting to keep your thoughts and feelings to yourself. So I’ll give her that.

Sitting here all day, stuck in this room, doing nothing more than twiddling our thumbs, will make me go insane. If my only option is playing cards, then so be it.

“Really?” She looks at me with a raise of her brow.

“Yeah.” My barely audible response mirrors my lack of enthusiasm.

She reclaims her position across from me on the bed and starts shuffling the cards. After dealing us each five cards, she places the rest of the stack, which is apparently now the draw pile, between us and goes over the rules. The game isn’t rocket science. We collect groups of cards for points, either same suit cards or runs like three, four, five or jack, queen, king. At the end of each hand, we add up our points and play again.

I’ve never been into games. It’s just not my thing. This one, in particular, presents no real challenge. A child could play it. I don’t see the draw of spending time in this way. Yet I keep my opinions to myself. Spending the rest of the time we’re stuck here fighting isn’t the desired outcome.

“We used to always play until someone reached five hundred points, but we can play to any number, really.” Penny lays down three aces in front of her.

I draw a card from the stack and put the single ace in my hand into the discard pile.

“Rummy!” Penny slaps the pile and picks up the discarded ace. “Remember, if you have something in your hand that you can play off one of my cards, you can place it down in front of you and earn the points on that.”

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