It was meant to be a relaxed gathering at their place—music blasting too loudly, bottles scattered across every surface, cigarette smoke drifting in from the patio, and a poker game that had dragged on far too long. Travis had been drinking since early evening, growing louder with each loss. Naomi stayed mostly in the kitchen, cleaning up after guests who barely noticed her, already sensing the night was turning in a dangerous direction.
She recognized that tone in Travis’s voice. The sharp edge. The false bravado. The smile he wore when he was one reckless decision away from disaster.
By midnight, he had lost more money than Naomi even knew they had. She caught fragments of conversation from the dining room.
“Double or nothing.”
“You’re done, Travis.”
“Don’t tell me when I’m done.”
The men laughed, but it was strained. Naomi stepped closer, wiping her hands on a towel, and saw Travis slam down one last card like an act of defiance. Dean Holloway, his oldest friend, leaned back, staring at him in disbelief.
“You don’t have cash,” Dean said flatly.
Travis, drunk and seething, pointed toward Naomi.
“Then I’ll settle it another way.”
