My eyes shift to the key chain hanging on the rearview mirror. A shiny pendant of a poker hand—a royal flush no less. The metal clasp attaching the pendant to the ring broke long ago, so now it’s just secured with a leather string. My dad gave me that thing after I beat him at poker the very first time, and I’ve kept it all these years to remind me of him and one of his other lessons: Don’t just accept the hand you’ve been dealt in life. Sometimes, you need to be the dealer.
I take the key chain off the mirror and remove the pendant from the string, throwing it into the metal box. Holding the teddy bear charm in one hand, I thread the leather through the loop at the top, then tie the string around my wrist.
When I look up toward the house, the fire is already eating at its sides. I lea
