“Oh, she’s competitive,” Uncle Mike chuckled. “Good luck, son.” Madden smiled politely. “I can handle competitiveness.” Poppi arched an eyebrow. “You have no idea,” she joked. The teams spread out at opposite ends of the boards. A loose circle of relatives formed around them, drinks in hand, already placing playful bets. “C’mon, Pop!” one of her cousins shouted. “Don’t embarrass the family!” “Pressure’s on,” Madden said under his breath. She stepped onto the throwing line. “It usually is,” she said under her breath. Her first toss landed dead center. The bag disappeared into the hole. Cheers erupted. “There she is!” someone yelled. “I told you she hustles everybody!” Aunt Charli yelled. Madden looked at her, genuinely impressed. “You sandbagged me,” he said. She glanced sideways. “I never said I wasn’t good,” she uttered. “You let me think I had a chance,” he said. “I let you think a lot of things,” she said. The words slipped out before she could stop them. Silenc
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