Page 11 of A Little Crush (The Little Things #6)

RORY

“ W elcome, gentlemen,” Tatum says as each of the respective men find their other halves scattered on the balcony. Griffin and Everett sandwich Dylan and Finley on the couch opposite me and Tatum while Ophelia sits propped on a wide chair like she’s our very own queen of the evening.

When he sees me, Dodger moseys closer like this isn’t his first time visiting Uncle Macklin and Aunt Kate’s cabin even though it most definitely is.

I smile up at him while pretending not to notice the other elephant in the room, Jaxon Thorne.

The very single Jaxon Thorne. My face grows hot as the thought flutters through my mind despite my best attempt to keep it in check.

He hovers at the edge of the area after closing the sliding glass door behind him, leaning against it, and folding his arms. And it’s strange.

Feeling like my reality’s been shattered.

Last time I saw him, I thought he was married.

Last time I saw him, I left in a huff and didn’t look back.

It’s like I’ve been given a fresh perspective, and the truth is, it makes me kind of sad.

Being on this side of things. Not that Dodger and I are a couple or anything, but at least we have each other to lean on during these social gatherings and in general.

Jax? Apparently, Jax has no one. How can a guy like Jax have no one?

I didn’t see it before. The way he keeps himself just enough removed to keep his distance but not so far that he seems like an outcast. It’s clear as day now.

Until the girls informed me of his divorce, I would’ve never believed it.

After all, he’s a catch. Tall. Handsome.

Well off. Has his life together. Or at least, he seems to.

Doesn’t he?

I bite the inside of my cheek, my eyes trailing along his broad shoulders before taking in the scruff of his jaw, tousled hair, and olive-colored eyes that are so dark, they’re almost black from this angle.

Yeah, handsome doesn’t even begin to describe the bastard, and it honestly isn’t fair.

Yet here he is, off to the side. You’d think he’s a stranger when he grew up with almost everyone here.

As if he can feel my stare, Jaxon’s eyes meet mine from across the balcony. I fight the urge to squirm before failing entirely. Shifting in my seat, I peek at Dodger in all his rockstar glory. See? Jaxon’s not the only handsome guy in the vicinity.

Focus. On. Him.

“Hey, stranger,” I say.

“Hey, Rore.” Dodger glances down at Hades lying by my feet. “Hey, devil dog.”

Hades growls back but doesn’t bother lifting his head.

“Heeeey.” I give Dodger a mock glare as if I’m personally offended by the new nickname, too, even if it isn’t entirely inaccurate.

With a low chuckle, Dodger collapses onto the cushion beside me and says, “Blame Hades, not me.” He cocks his head. “Or is it your fault for naming him after the devil himself? ”

Okay, the man might have a point. Instead of arguing, my lips purse, and I look around the area, curious to see what’s next on tonight’s agenda because Game Night can mean anything under the sun, er, moon.

When everyone was little, and our families would get together, Aunt Blakely started teaching us kids different games.

Things like Kick the Can and Spoons and Truth or Dare.

Then, once we were good and distracted, the adults could have some time without the kids hovering.

Not only did it stick, but the guys carried the tradition on to college and long after.

Not going to lie. I’m kind of excited. I’ve only participated in a handful of Game Nights.

Not because everyone was actively trying to exclude me and Tatum, but thanks to the age gap between us and everyone else, the stars rarely aligned for all of us to play together once the older kids moved on to college.

The idea of participating tonight is enough to make my skin buzz with anticipation, and boy could I use a distraction.

In a dark T-shirt and jeans, Mav scoots around the edge of the balcony, approaching his fiancée. “You know about this?”

Ophelia shakes her head, her tiara wobbling. “Nope. You?”

“Not a clue.” Straightening the ridiculous crown on her head, Maverick pulls her up, takes the newly-empty seat, and tugs her onto his lap.

“That’s because Reeves and I are amazing,” Tatum interrupts, giving the best man a wry grin as he places his hand on top of Dylan’s round stomach. “You’re welcome, by the way,” Tatum adds, addressing Ophelia again. “I expect the same thoughtful treatment when I’m the bride.”

Ophelia lifts a brow. “And when will that be?”

Finley laughs. “Pretty sure that’s a Paxton question. Pax? ”

Squeezing the back of his neck, the shameless guitarist answers her, “You’re really asking me to tell all my secrets?”

“Ahem,” Tatum interjects. “While I’m all for everyone grilling my boyfriend?—”

“She said boyfriend,” Dylan whispers beside Fin. “Boy. Friend.”

Finley leans closer to Dylan as if sharing a secret despite all of us clearly being within earshot. “Who is this girl, and what has she done with Lia’s little sister?”

Ignoring them, Tatum prods, “Reeves? Wanna take it from here before I smack your wife and her friend or…?”

“No bullying pregnant women,” Reeves counters, though I don’t miss the teasing lilt in his voice. “That’s my job.” Standing, he announces, “Aaaand tonight we’ll be playing—uh, Rory?” He points to the corner of the balcony. “Your dog?”

I follow Reeves’ finger in time to see Hades’ front paws on top of one of the side tables as he scarfs down the last of the appetizers.

“Hades!” I screech. When did he get over there? “Off!”

He licks up what’s left of Mama Taylor’s cookies, then pushes off the table and plops down near the railing, his tail swishing back and forth in satisfaction.

“Devil dog,” Dodger teases, as if Hades just proved his point from moments ago. Then again, I guess he did.

“You were saying?” Tatum prods.

Reeves clears his throat. “Tonight, we’ll be playing Ghosts in the Graveyard.

Rules are simple. Everyone takes a wine cork.

Excellent work clearing out some bottles, by the way.

” He motions to the center table littered with empty bottles.

“The cork with the heart written on the bottom is the ghost .” Raising his hands, he does air quotes around the word ghost. “But don’t tell anyone if you’re it.

After everyone’s chosen a wine cork, we’ll all spread out to go hunting, which means you walk around outside in the dark looking for the ghost. When the person who is the ghost finds an opening, they buckle down and hide.

Everyone else? Your job is to try and figure out who the ghost is so you can be turned into one before Hades is let loose.

If you find the ghost, you hide with them.

But make sure you stay quiet. The last one to find the group of ghosts hiding has to tell a favorite memory with Ophelia or Mav or they get eaten by Rory’s devil dog. Any questions?”

Dylan raises her hand. “You really expect a pregnant woman to traipse around the forest when it’s pitch black outside?”

“You keep up with our boys just fine,” Reeves quips. “I think you can handle this.”

Folding her arms, she grumbles, “Sometimes, I really wish men could get pregnant.”

“Here, here!” Finley agrees.

She raises her almost-empty bottle of Diet Coke into the air while Tatum passes around a plastic bowl filled with wine corks.

Some are from tonight, but it’s obvious she’s saved a few more and brought them with her because there’s no way we went through almost a dozen bottles in one night.

As I take a cork from the bowl, I peek at the bottom. My stomach bottoms out.

There it is. A tiny heart drawn in black permanent marker.

Perfect.

When I said I wanted to participate in Game Night, I didn’t mean I wanted to be front and center.

If we don’t get started in the next two minutes, everyone will be able to read my face and will know who the ghost is.

I pull out my phone, clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth in an attempt to look…

I don’t even know. Not guilty? Yeah, that would be great .

Impossible but great.

“Rore,” Tatum calls. “Any advice for Reeves who’s staying back with Hades?”

“Nope,” I squeak. “When you want him to start searching, just say tag .”

Lifting his head at my feet, Hades looks up at me.

I show him my palm, silently motioning for him to chill.

Satisfied, Hades lowers his snout back to the ground and relaxes.

He learned this particular trick when I told my parents there was a not-so-small possibility that I’d be living alone at college.

They wanted to feel confident I was safe, so they made sure Hades knew how to search for any unwanted lurkers in my house.

Whenever I want Hades to sniff out any potential people hiding, I say tag, and he searches the premises.

When Tatum came to visit, she found it hilarious and would hide in the bathroom or under the bed or…

anywhere really, thus turning a nifty safety hack into a game of Hide and Seek.

I’ve never used it in these exact circumstances, but I’m sure Hades will manage.

Reeves rubs his hands together. “Got it.”

“Aaaand, let’s go,” Tatum announces.

Looking at my dog, I show him my palm. “Hades, stay.”

Then, down the stairs we traipse until we’re sprawled out beneath the balcony.

Well, everyone but Reeves and Hades. With a flick of Reeves’ finger, the cabin lights go out, blanketing the yard in darkness.

My heartbeat ratchets up a notch as I look at my feet, but all I see is darkness.

Thanks to the tall pines and balcony over my head, the stars and moon are shit at lighting up anything, which means I’m totally going to fall on my face out here.

I blame Tatum for this one. She’s the only person who knows Hades’ little hide-and-seek trick. Jokes on everyone else, though. Because Hades might know how to find people, but the only person he’s going to look for is me. At least it means I won’t be alone for long in this eerie ambiance.

“Let’s go hunting!” Tatum announces to the dark night.

A branch snaps off to my left, and my pulse jumps.

I blink slowly, praying my eyes get their act together and adjust to the darkness. When they do, I find Dodger grinning at me. “You good?”

“Fine,” I mutter as Ophelia and Maverick vanish behind the edge of the house.

Before I can stop myself, I scan the space for Jax, but he’s already missing. Hell, maybe he stayed on the balcony. It wouldn’t surprise me. He’s never been a huge fan of Game Nights, or at least not that I know of. Not that I should be thinking about him.

Focus, Rory!

“Good luck,” Dodger murmurs. He veers right, disappearing in the distance.

Kate and Macklin’s family cabin is up in the mountains about thirty minutes from town, surrounded by trees, boulders, and hidden trails.

It’s also surrounded by bears, cougars, snakes, mountain goats, and…

well, if you name it, there’s probably a story or two in their parents’ repertoire starring one of the beasts.

The reminder doesn’t exactly settle my anxiety.

“Come on, Squeaks,” Dylan urges. “Let’s be partners.”

“That’s cheating!” Finley calls.

“Says the girl holding her husband’s hand,” Tatum quips. “No partners. Once you find the ghost, you’ll have someone to hang out with, but not until then.” She nudges Paxton’s shoulder. “Come find me.” She runs off while my feet stay planted where they are.

“Chop, chop, Squeaks,” Reeves urges from above. “You too, Pickles.”

“Fiiiine.” Dylan trudges in the opposite direction, and I force my feet to move, careful not to trip on any roots sticking up from the ground.

It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. And everyone else will be fine.

The last thought flutters through my mind, its presence more familiar than anything else.

I guess that’s what happens when someone you love passes away.

A constant niggling in the back of your mind about safety for those around you.

Most days, I simply push past it. Forcing myself to do exactly that, I peek over my shoulder, confirming I’m somewhat alone.

Satisfied, I dip behind one of the large pine trees.

Its trunk is easily as wide as I am, and the thick bark digs into my back as I lean against it, trying to quiet my breathing.

Pretty sure I only made it a dozen paces from the house, but as long as Reeves doesn’t send Hades to search for the ghost yet, I should be okay for a little while.

I’m not sure how much time passes when the familiar crunching of leaves, then a branch snapping on my left causes my heart to lodge in my throat.

Someone’s close.

The question is…who?