Page 79 of Filthy and the Beast

“Hey! What’s that!” Reggie points at us from across the table, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “No secret coaching once the game starts! Damian’s too good.”

Fox selects his bird cards from the stack. “Don’t worry about Reggie. The game’s complicated. Take your time figuring it out, and if you get confused about the rules, just ask my husband.”

Owen laughs. “Why me?”

Fox frowns at his cards. “Because I need to concentrate if I’m going to beat you.”

Reggie shakes his head. “You’re not going to beat my brother.” Then he grins. “ButI’mgoing to beatyou.”

Shit talk. I can get used to that. Except as I draw my cards, I try to decipher all the little icons and get confused again. Huffing, I drop my elbows on the table, which knocks over a bunch of the crap and nearly topples Owen’s drink. Cursing at myself, I lurch forward, trying to fix it, but I manage to knock over my own drink on the way.

Owen and Fox jump back from the spilled liquid. Barking out obscenities, I scramble. I grab the napkins, but Damian’s quick hands intercept the mess, stopping my cocktail from ruining the game.

The room is quiet. Everyone is trying not to look at me, and my heart is pounding.

Fuck. I’m a goddamn goon.

But Damian’s light laughter pierces the silence. “We can’t make it through one game night without a spill.” Everyone else chuckles warmly.

“Nothing will compare to the Great Soda Flood of Catan,” Owen adds. “We had to get a new board after that one.”

Catching my eye, Damian smiles. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his reassurance, and I let out a slow, ragged breath.

His smile helps, but I’m sweating, and I feel broken. I don’t know how to be a normal person anymore.

Need Damian to know I’m trying, though, so I summon a smile back before we each return to our games.

I draw a Belted Kingfisher from the deck. That’s a good sign. Stately birds. Always happy to see one.

Everyone starts talking at once, and the games begin. The commotion gives me a chance to breathe. Conversation is a little frantic, but it’s better than small talk. No one’s asking me personal questions, and I appreciate having something else to focus on.

I try to build up my wetlands. Feels right. Lots going on in the wetlands.

Then Reggie grabs the duck I was eyeing. “Fuck!” I bark out. My voice is way louder than I intended, nearly a yell.

Everyone looks up at me at the same time, the games momentarily suspended.

Shit. I just fucked up again. I turn to Damian. Too late, I realize my brow is furrowed. I must look pissed, and the stress is obvious behind his glasses, too, which makes my pulse skyrocket.

But when I turn just as quickly back to Reggie, a wide grin grows across face. He holds the ruddy duck card up, facing me. “Looks like there’s more than one wetlands attracting the a-veeee-ation tonight,” he taunts.

Damian laughs first. When I snort out a surprised laugh, too, I ease into relief. “Fucker,” I grumble.

More of Damian’s warm laughter washes over me, and he leans closer. I relax more, the tenderness of his voice soothing.

Maybe I’m doing okay.

I've never known anything like the energy with his friends. Boxing gyms and the pro fighting circuit are all about competition. Even away from the ring, fighters don’t let their guards down. But with Damian's friends, even when we're shit-talking, the night is friendly.

As I study the game, I reach down to pet Petunia. My hand bumps Damian’s, and he laces our fingers together, giving me a quick squeeze. We don’t look at each other, but my heart jumps, and I hold my breath until he releases me again.

Yeah, okay. This is good.

The rest of the evening, I do a reasonably fine job participating. I bark out awkwardly a few more times, probably embarrass myself in ways I don’t realize. But I get in a couple rounds of the bird game and have a good time. Damian even manages to whisper along some good duck strategy, so I don’t land myself in last place. And right when my head is swimming, and I can’t handle anymore, Reggie and Everett ask to see the boxing gym. I give them a little tour, indulging by sharing some of the memorabilia I’ve collected over the years.

They appreciate it. Feels good.

When we get back to the house, I’m surprised everyone is getting ready to head out, but a quick glance at the clock confirms it’s nearing midnight. Damian and I say our goodbyes to his friends. Though we’re left alone with the dogs again, the energy of so many people in the house still lingers.

---