Page 104 of The Wild Card

“Most people would disagree.”

“Most people are idiots.”

That startles a laugh out of him—a real one, full and warm. I want to bottle the sound.

“Come on.” I grab two beers from the fridge—the fancy craft kind I bought last week—and hand him one. “Dinner’s got another hour. Let’s go sit.”

* * *

We end up on the couch, facing each other, the city lights twinkling through the window behind us. Murphy wedges himself between us, purring like a small motor.

“Okay,” I say, tucking my feet underneath me. “Let’s play a game.”

“What kind of game?”

“Questions. We take turns asking each other things. You have to answer honestly.”

He narrows his eyes. “This feels like an interrogation.”

“It’s not an interrogation. It’s getting to know each other. We’ve been living together for weeks, and there’s still so much I don’t know about you.”

“You know plenty.”

“I know you check the locks four times, and you like your eggs scrambled, and you have a secret soft spot for Murphy even though you pretend he annoys you. I don’t know the real stuff.”

“That is real stuff.”

“The deep stuff, Crew. Come on. I’ll go first.” I take a sip of beer, considering. “What’s your happiest memory?”

He’s quiet for a long moment. I’m about to tell him he can pass when he speaks.

“Basic training graduation.”

“Really?”

“It was the first time I ever finished something. The first time I was part of something bigger than myself. I felt so accomplished.” He picks at the label on his beer. “My drill sergeant shook my hand and said he was proud of me. No one had ever said that to me before.”

The image breaks my heart—eighteen-year-old Crew, alone in the world, desperate for someone to be proud of him, to acknowledge how hard he had worked to get there.

“Your turn,” I say softly.

“What’s your biggest fear?”

I wasn’t expecting him to go deep so fast. “Um. Being alone, I guess. Ending up by myself with no one to cook for, no one to take care of. My whole family is so connected, so close, and the idea of not having that…” I trail off, inhale a big breath in. “Your turn. What’s something you’ve never told anyone?”

He takes a long pull of his beer. “Sometimes I talk to Murphy when you’re not home. Full conversations. I tell him about my day.”

I press my lips together, trying not to smile. “That’s adorable.”

“It’s pathetic.”

“It’s adorable. And Murphy is an excellent listener.”

“He is. Very nonjudgmental.” Crew’s mouth twitches. “My turn. What’s something you want but you’re afraid to ask for?”

The question hits close to home. I think about it—really think.

“To be chosen,” I finally say. “Not settled for. Not convenient. Actually chosen, by someone who wants me specifically. All my chaos and mess and too muchness.” I laugh, but it comes out shakier than I intended. “That sounds pathetic too.”