"Someone has to be," I said, grinning even though my own chest felt tight. "You're usually too busy brooding to do it yourself." That startled an actual laugh out of him—rough and surprised and real. It was maybe the best sound I'd ever heard, and I filed it away somewhere safe, somewhere I could pull it out later when I needed reminding that this was real, that I actually belonged here.
"So Harper first," Silas said, steering us back on track, his voice steady and practical. "Then what? We draw straws for second?"
"Her choice," Harper said immediately, some of his usual authority returning to his voice, his shoulders squaring as he straightened in the swing. "After me, it's her choice. Whatever order she wants, whoever she wants next. We don't get to decide that for her."
"Agreed," I said, tipping my bottle toward him in acknowledgment. Silas nodded, his pale eyes warm with approval. Silence settled over us again, but it was different now. Warmer. Like something had shifted between us, some invisible barrier crumbling.
"There's something else we need to figure out," Harper said after a moment, his voice thoughtful as he stared out at the water, the porch swing creaking beneath him. "Living arrangements. If we're doing this—bonding, being a pack—we can't all keep living in three different places."
He had a point. Harper had his place near the distillery. I had the houseboat. Silas had been crashing wherever he landed, mostly at his wildlife rehab site. Artemis had the cabin—her cabin, her aunt's cabin, the place that meant everything to her.
"She's not leaving this land," I said immediately, certainty ringing in my voice. "Not after everything she went through to keep it. Not with those developer vultures circling."
"Didn't say she should," Harper replied, shaking his head, his gray eyes meeting mine. "I'm saying we need to think about how we fit into her life here. Not the other way around."
Silas made a thoughtful sound, his scarred fingers tapping against his beer bottle. "Cabin's not big enough for four people long-term," he observed, his pale eyes distant as he calculated. "Not comfortably. But there's land. Plenty of it."
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" I asked, turning to look at Silas, a slow grin spreading across my face as the idea took shape.
"Depends," Silas said, one eyebrow raising slightly, a hint of dry humor in his voice. "Are you thinking about adding on to the cabin? Building out instead of asking her to move?"
"That's exactly what I'm thinking, mon ami." I leaned back in my chair, warming to the idea, my mind already spinning with possibilities. "We've got three Alphas with decent incomes. Harper's got the distillery, I've got my music but also I have inheritance money sitting there collecting dust, and Silas—you've got that trust from the military, yeah?"
"Wasn't planning to touch it," Silas said slowly, something flickering in his pale eyes, his scarred fingers tightening around his bottle. "But for this... for her... yeah. I could."
"We pool resources," I continued, the words coming faster now as excitement built in my chest. "Add a couple rooms onto the cabin. Maybe a bigger kitchen—she deserves a real kitchen. A workshop for Harper. Space for Silas's rehab animals." I paused,grinning wider. "A dock that Gumbo can't destroy every time he gets territorial."
Harper was quiet, but I could see him thinking, his brow furrowed in that way it got when he was working through a problem. "Would need to talk to her first," he said finally, his voice measured but not dismissive. "It's her home. Her decision. We don't get to just show up with blueprints and expect her to be grateful."
"Obviously," I agreed, nodding quickly. "But we can have a plan. Show her we've thought about it. That we're not expecting her to fit into our lives—we want to build something together. On her land. Around her."
"The distillery," Harper said slowly, something shifting in his expression, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "I don't need to live there. I just need to be close enough to manage it. Twenty minutes away isn't going to kill me."
"My houseboat can dock here just as easy as anywhere," I added, gesturing toward the bayou with my bottle. "Already been doing it half the time anyway."
We both looked at Silas. He was quiet for a long moment, his pale eyes fixed on some point in the middle distance, his jaw tight. When he spoke, his voice was rougher than usual, like the words cost him something.
"I've been building something," he admitted, his scarred fingers tightening around his beer. "Out by the Bayou. Small structure for the rehab animals. Wasn't sure if..." He trailed off, then shook his head, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "Wasn't sure if I'd be staying long enough to finish it."
"And now?" I asked softly, leaning forward in my chair, my chest tight with something that felt like hope.
Silas looked at me, then at Harper, something raw and vulnerable in those usually guarded eyes. "Now I'm thinking I might need to add a second room," he said quietly, the ghost of asmile tugging at his lips. "Maybe a porch. Somewhere to sit and watch the water."
"We could connect them," Harper said, and there was something almost eager in his voice now, his gray eyes bright with possibility. "The cabin, the new additions. Not all one structure, but... linked. A compound. Pack territory."
"She'd like that," I said, nodding as I pictured it, could see her face when we told her—the way her eyes would light up, the way she'd probably cry and then pretend she wasn't crying. "Her own little kingdom in the bayou. With all of us in it."
"Her kingdom," Harper repeated, nodding slowly, a rare smile crossing his face. "Yeah. That sounds about right." I took another drink, gathering my courage, because there was something else I needed to say. Something I'd been thinking about since the heat ended, maybe even before that.
"Can I—" I started, then stopped, suddenly unsure how to put it into words. Both of them looked at me, waiting, patient. I tried again, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I need to say something. And I need you both to not make it weird."
"We'll do our best," Silas said dryly, one corner of his mouth quirking up in what might have been amusement.
Harper just raised an eyebrow, his gray eyes curious but kind.
I took a breath. Let it out. Took another.
"I've never had brothers," I said quietly, the words coming out rougher than I intended, scraping against something raw in my chest. "Not really. I mean—I had an older brother, but he was the golden child. Law school and medical school. The one the family actually wanted." I stared at my beer bottle, watching the condensation trail down the glass like tears. "And I had a younger brother. Luc. He was twelve when he drowned." My throat tightened, the old guilt rising like bile. "I was supposed to be watching him. I was seventeen and thought I was invincibleand I was off with some girl instead of—" I stopped, swallowed hard. "Instead of where I should have been."
