Out On a Limb(55)

“Bo and I work together,” Jeremiah says simply.

“Jer is my boss,” Bo adds, placing a token on the table. “He’s trying to be humble, but he’s the head guy in charge.”

“Right, well, sure. But here I’m just your coworker, friend, and,” he picks up an imaginary sword from his belt, “warrior,” he says dramatically, slashing his sword down.

“Damn, I want on his team!” I say, laughing.

“Aw, she sounds like me when we started,” Kevin chimes from next to me. “I’m here because Bo needed another member and my husband voluntold me to come. No complaints, though. I like to be dramatic when given the chance.”

“When did this start?” I ask, my eyebrow raised at Caleb.

“I believe the text was…” Jer interjects before Caleb gets the chance to answer. “Hey, Jer, I have cancer—shrug emoji. Going to need some time off. Maybe forever—question mark emoji. Before you ask, because everyone keeps asking, if you want to help, you can play DND with me. I’ve always wanted to play. Need at least five guys, and I already have three. Maybe Kev could be in too? Anyway—fingers crossed emoji—I’ll hopefully be back to work soon.”

I, slack jawed and only slightly amused, gape at Bo.

He looks at me, smug, and shrugs. “I did what I had to.”

“You cancer-guilted your friends into playing Dungeons and Dragons?”

“He definitely did,” Walter says. “And I had cancer.”

“I just wanted to play,” Adamir says quietly.

“And you?” I ask Caleb.

“I only joined in September,” he mumbles. “I told you. I didn’t know anything else… Not before you told Sarah everything about Bo,” he says pointedly. I may have deserved that, but I still glare back at him.

“We had another friend from our support group who had been playing with us,” Bo explains, his expression holding as he scratches his cheek. “He passed in June.”

I look between Walter and Bo, who share a sad but gentle look of reassurance. “I’m sorry,” I offer around the table.

Walter pats Bo’s back with a gentle series of slaps. “We’re getting through it. And,” he says, turning his attention to Caleb, “we’re lucky to have Caleb to fill his shoes.”

I nod, looking around at the men once again, unsure of when to step away. Adamir is stacking his dice in front of him as Kevin and Jer make lovey-eyes at each other, whispering. Bo sets one final piece down and nods to himself, as if the table is complete. Caleb mouths did you tell her? and I sharply turn away from him.

“Well, it was good to meet you all. I’m going to—”

The doorbell rings, cutting me off.

“Pizza must be early,” Bo says, then circles around the table and passes by me, toward the front room.

“It’s not the pizza, is it?” Kevin whispers to me, a giddy smile overtaking his face. He does love the drama. I like Kevin, I decide.

I shake my head—wearing a thinly veiled smile of my own.

“Caleb?” Sarah calls out from behind me, storming in. “Caleb Andrew Linwell, this is not a kickboxing class.”

“That’s my cue,” I say to Kevin, pointing over my shoulder toward my bedroom. “Lovely to meet you all! Kick dragon ass! Escape the dungeons and whatnot!” I shout, jogging to my bedroom before Caleb’s death glare strikes me down.

You know, with his musical magic and all.





CHAPTER 19





I’ll say it. I’m not ashamed. Dungeons and Dragons is pretty fucking cool.

The moment Sarah was done giving Caleb the hefty public lecture he deserved for lying to her for months, she came to my room and dragged me back out to sit with her and watch. Sarah is not the type to leave an audience hanging, and based on all the giggling, oohs, and ahhs I could hear from down the hall—the men around the table were eating her up.

For the first ten minutes, I sat and crocheted while Sarah picked at her fingernails and sneaked pictures of Caleb, giggling to herself when it was his turn to speak.

But then, and I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment if I tried, our attention was captured. Bo was crafting a story so elaborate that Sarah and I simply gawked, passing a bowl of popcorn back and forth, while the men around the table played out a battle in which they took down a raven-feathered shapeshifter and his small army of thieves, defending a local inn.

“My husband’s a goddamn hero,” Sarah whispered to me, her lips parted in awe.

They were very convincing.

For me, it was the way Bo commanded the table that had me blushing and flustered. The ease with which he’d adapt to whatever the players decided to roleplay—the simple way he instructed and let them guide the story. And then, when he was the voice of the raven-feathered villain? Game. Over.

The haunted evil that washed over his features? The bass-deep tone to his lowered, gravel-like voice? I’d have gotten pregnant again, if such a thing was possible.

“What does this say about us?” I whispered back to Sarah when I caught her fanning herself.

“Let’s not think about it too hard,” she said, blowing a kiss to Caleb—who was clearly no longer sleeping on the couch.

Three hours passed before Bo called the time, and the men all left character and returned to the real world. Sarah and I began shouting our complaints, as we used to at the television when our telenovelas ended on a cliff-hanger.