The Buy-In (Graham Brothers #1)(23)

“Later,” James amends. “I’ll smoke it at home.”

Chase, for being a peacemaker, can’t seem to let this one go. “I just don’t get why—”

Tank clears his throat. “Can we move on, boys?”

Dad is not so much trying to rescue me as he is trying to deflect the question. He and I agreed on the drive home not to talk about Sheet Cake until we’d played a decent number of hands. The news would go down better after everyone was in a good mood.

As to why the cigars—they were an impulse buy at the gas station. I saw them sitting right by the register and had to have them. My insides are hosting their own ticker tape parade in honor of seeing Lindy again. I can’t help feeling like celebrating, even if not everything today was a win.

Definitely not the damage to the Aston. And more importantly, not the conversation with Lindy. I want to think of it as a start, like a nice, friendly comma after an introductory clause. But I’m pretty sure she saw it as a period at the end of a sentence—the last sentence just before the words THE END.

I have a lot of hard feelings: guilt, regret, and even anger. Not necessarily directed at Lindy, because I understand why she lied to me. I am hurt. But I’m also hopeful. Maybe she didn’t say she forgave me. Maybe she didn’t say yes to giving me a second chance. But she didn’t say no, and I’ll hold on to that.

I still can’t believe she’s been right up the road, all this time. She’s still right up the road—forty-two minutes—and it has taken every bit of willpower I have to not drive back right now. I could set up camp on her front porch with Elvis the rooster. But I need a plan. I can’t just fire myself off like a cannon, not when she seems so fragile. She’s a shell of herself, a strong survivor to be sure, but a little like a cardboard cutout of the woman I knew.

My feelings for Lindy haven’t faded a bit. Honestly, with the way they slammed into me the moment I heard her voice, I’d say they’ve only strengthened with time.

Yeah, I know. It sounds ridiculous. You can’t fall MORE in love with someone from a distance when you aren’t even talking. And yet … that’s exactly how this feels.

I clamp the unlit cigar between my teeth and spread my arms wide, giving Tank a wink. “We’re celebrating life, fellas. Life and love and family and the future. Now, who’s dealing first?”





“You can’t just buy a town.” Collin stares pointedly at Tank.

“Except I did buy a town.” Dad is in full-on defense mode. His chair is pushed back from the table, his arms are crossed over his chest, and his jaw is set.

I’m laying low, a little terrified now that the moment’s here. So far, Tank has said nothing about my involvement, and I have half a mind to tuck tail and run. But I don’t do that anymore. I am a reformed runner. I’ll be the man who stays. Who finishes. Who commits. Starting now.

“Let’s focus on some of the details.” Chase’s tone is neutral and friendly. “I mean, what’s the legality there? How does purchasing a town work?”

Too bad there’s no room for Switzerland at this table. Even Chase’s peaceful demeanor is not going to diffuse the emotions. We’re a bunch of nuclear reactors reaching critical levels.

So far, Collin is pelting Tank with questions, while James is fuming silently. Quiet isn’t necessarily good when it comes to my oldest and broodiest brother. I can see the tension gathering like a storm in James’s eyes.

I discreetly try to get Harper’s attention in the house. Her attention is fixed on the TV, and she completely misses my laser beam eyes and the telepathic messages I’m trying to send her way. Brutus, curled up in her lap like he’s a teacup chihuahua not a boxer, sees me but clearly can’t read my desperation. Or he doesn’t care.

“It’s not so complicated,” Tank says. “I own all the land in the town proper. All the leasing agreements for the businesses on site have been signed over to me. Other than city hall and the library, which are property of the state.”

“Are you planning to move there?” Chase asks. He glances around. “And, uh, sell this place?”

Admittedly, I hadn’t thought this far in advance, and the thought of Dad selling the house where we all grew up, the house where Mom lived—it makes my stomach plummet.

I guess there’s a lot I didn’t think about. Once I saw Lindy, I stopped thinking at all. I’m already all in on this plan, my figurative stack of chips pushed to the center of the table. I chew on the inside of my cheek, watching Tank.

“I’m not selling this house. We”—he swallows thickly at the reference to Mom—“paid cash, and the value is more than double. I’m hanging on to it.”

He doesn’t say anything about sentimental reasons, but he doesn’t need to. We get it.

A large bit of tension eases from the patio. I don’t think any of us are ready for THAT change. Buy a town—not a great idea, but we can deal. Sell the house where we lived with Mom? Nope.

Tank leans forward, elbows on the table. His winning hand is still spread out in front of him, a full house. It seems a little ironic. Or maybe like reverse irony? Depends on what happens next, I guess.

Harper finally looks up, and I give her wild eyes and a look I hope says, Get your hiney out here, honey. She walks out with Brutus and Smoky just as Dad says, “I do plan to relocate there eventually. And hopefully not alone. I did this for us,” Tank says, rapping his knuckles on the table. The fan squeaking overhead is the only sound.