Page 37 of My Knight

“Doesn’t sound easy,” Fade muttered.

“The first one to do it the fastest wins for their team,” Dove added.

Everyone stared at the course in silence.

“I don’t think I could do this without an egg,” Saylor whispered behind me.

I looked at the wood piles again. “How about we just go around the piles of two-by-fours twice?” I offered. “No one wants to break their ass today.”

“Agreed,” Yarder said immediately. “Prez call. No climbing the wood.”

Dove pouted but crossed her arms. “Fine. Whatever. Fade and Adalee, you’re up first. That way, you can still get dinner ready.”

“Jesus,” Adalee whispered as she stepped forward.

We all backed up to give them space. Dove handed them each a spoon and placed an egg delicately in the dip. “Hold it straight out in front of you,” she instructed. “No touching the egg with your hand.”

They took their places at the starting line. Dove threw her hands in the air. “Ready… set… GO!” Her arms dropped, and they were off.

Adalee was focused with her tongue poking out slightly, and the spoon trembled in her hand. Fade had a steady lead, as he moved fast but careful. The figure eight, the buckets—he was golden.

Until he hit the second wood pile.

His boot slid in the grass. And then—down he went.

The egg went flying and spun through the air like a doomed little comet before it splattered in the grass with a dramatic splat.

“No!” Fade yelled. He sat up and stared at the ruined egg as if it had personally betrayed him.

“Oh yes!” Dove cackled. “Just finish the course, Adalee. No dropping the egg!”

Adalee was right behind him. “I’m so sorry!” she called as she carefully passed him.

Fade lunged for her ankle, but she skipped sideways with a surprised squeal.

“No roughing your opponent!” Saylor called out, with her hands on her hips like she was the ref of the damn Super Bowl.

I watched her—face lit up, laughing, having the time of her life. She looked healthy. Happy.

Adalee made it to the finish without a single crack in her egg.

“One minute, fifty-seven seconds,” Dove announced. “And you—” she pointed to Fade—“are disqualified.”

Fade stood up and brushed grass off his jeans. “You put soap in the grass.”

Dove grinned. “It was the water. Did exactly what I wanted it to do.”

Fade grumbled but pressed a kiss to Adalee’s cheek. “Good job, babe.”

“Let us know who wins,” Adalee said, and they headed inside to start dinner.

The rest of the match-ups were pure chaos.

Sloane nearly tripped Aero on purpose. Cue Ball somehow got tangled in Olive’s hair (don’t ask). Dove and Throttle accused each other of cheating before they even started. Mac raced Rocky like her life depended on it. Poppy threatened Yarder with a wooden spoon if he beat her. Fallon and Compass turned it into a literal dance-off mid-course as they showed off how well they could balance their eggs. Dani somehow got Smoke to carry her and the egg halfway through, which caused another disqualification and a lot of laughter.

And then it was down to me and Saylor.

Final round.

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