Page 54 of What He Doesn't Know

“Bullshit.”

Cameron stood as he tossed the money at Reese, the paper hitting our game pieces still on the board and losing everyone’s place. Mom gasped, and I reached for Cameron’s wrist to calm him, but he shrugged me off.

“He’s cheating.”

“What?”I asked incredulously, looking to Reese apologetically as I stood to join Cameron. I lowered my voice, offering him a smile. “Babe, it’s just a game. Reese is playing by the rules just like all of us.”

“No, it’s bullshit. He’s been sliding himself money every time he goes to the bank to pay himself. And how many times did you pass Go without him noticing and giving you the $200?”

Cameron was fuming, his fists at his sides as he stared down at Reese. That look couldn’t just kill, it could torture and maim.

We all looked to Reese, and my stomach turned at the possibility of this blowing into something more. But he just smiled, holding up his hands from where he sat on the floor.

“Hey, man, I promise — no cheating. I just got lucky this game.”

Mom looked at Dad with eyes that begged him to do something, and I just tried to pull Cameron away, but he wouldn’t let me touch him.

“Whatever. I don’t even care. It’s just a stupid game, doesn’t actually amount to anything.”

“Why don’t we go to my study,” Dad said quickly, standing to join Cameron. He clapped him on the shoulder, both as a friendly gesture and a warning to calm down. “We can have a cigar, catch up a little.”

Cameron was still staring Reese down, nose flaring, but Reese just smiled up at him.

“I think that’s a great idea,” I said firmly, and Cameron’s eyes finally met mine.

He softened a little then, and I saw the disappointment in himself creep over his features like a slow flood. He closed his eyes, forcing a breath, and Dad clapped him on the shoulder once more before leading him back to the study.

“Well,” Mom said. “I think I’m going to make more sangria.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” Reese agreed. “Charlie and I can clean this up.”

She smiled at him, collecting all of our glasses before disappearing, and then it was just the two of us.

For a moment it was quiet, Reese organizing the money back into its respective containers while I sorted the houses and hotels. I shook my head, wondering what in the world had gotten into Cameron, embarrassment heating my cheeks the longer the silence stretched between us.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said. “Cameron didn’t have the best home life growing up, I don’t think he ever played games like this.”

“It’s okay.”

“He gets like this in hockey, too. I don’t think he can separate it all. He just gets so caught up.”

“Charlie, it’s okay.”

“He’s not like that. Usually. He’s really so sweet and kind, and—”

“Hey.” Reese stopped counting the money, his hand folding over my forearm until I looked up at him. He gave me a small smile, squeezing my arm with understanding. “I’m not judging him, and it’s okay. He got a little worked up. I’ve been there before, many times with game night. I’m sure you remember.”

“Yes, but you were also seventeen at the time.”

“And?” He shrugged. “Competitiveness gets the best of all of us. It’s fine. Really.”

I let out a breath, nodding and thanking him with a smile. Reese let go of my arm and moved the conversation to school stuff as we finished cleaning up the game. Once it was packed away, we made our way to the kitchen.

Mom was nowhere to be found, but the fresh pitcher of sangria sat in the middle of the kitchen island. Reese poured us both a glass, handing me mine before lifting his own to his lips.

“I wanted to thank you,” he said after his first drink. “For the other night at the fundraiser. It’s been a long time since I had a moment like that.” His eyes were on his hands, and he shook his head. “I’m just glad you were there.”

I smiled. “Me, too. And hey, I was just returning the favor. Remember the Incline?” I chuckled. “That was my breaking moment.”