"I'm going to need more beer for this level of emotional vulnerability," I announced, breaking the solemnity with a dramatic sigh, pushing myself up from my chair. "Anyone else?"
"Please," Harper said, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips, his gray eyes warm despite the lingering wetness.
"Wouldn't say no," Silas added, his own lips quirking in that almost-smile that was becoming more frequent these days. I headed for the door, then paused, looking back at them—Harper on the porch swing, Silas settling back against the railing, both of them watching me with expressions that made my chest ache in the best possible way.
"Hey," I said, pausing with my hand on the door frame, suddenly needing them to know, needing to say it out loud. "I'm glad it's you two. I'm glad I'm not doing this alone."
"Same," Harper said, his smile finally breaking through, small but real, his gray eyes soft in a way that made my throat tight all over again.
Silas just nodded, but his eyes said everything his voice didn't. I ducked inside before I could start crying again, grabbed three more beers from the fridge, and made myself a promise.
Whatever happened next—with Artemis, with the bonding, with the developers trying to steal her land—I wasn't going to run. I wasn't going to leave. I was going to stay, and fight, and be the brother these two deserved.
The brother I'd always wanted to be. I headed back out to the porch, handed out the beers, and settled back into my chair with a contented sigh. We had a lot of planning to do. A lot of fights to win. A future to build.
Chapter Forty-One
Artemis
Ifound them by the dock. Remy was sitting on the edge, bare feet dangling over the water, a fishing pole in one hand and what looked like an entire rotisserie chicken in the other. Gumbo was about ten feet away, half-submerged in the shallows, only his eyes and the ridge of his back visible above the waterline.
They were staring at each other.
"Should I be concerned?" I asked, settling onto the dock beside Remy, close enough that our shoulders brushed. The morning was already warm, the sun cutting golden streaks across the bayou, and somewhere in the cypress trees, a bird was singing its heart out.
"That depends," Remy said, not taking his eyes off the alligator, his voice carefully casual even as his fingers tightened around the chicken. "How attached are you to me keeping all my limbs?"
"Moderately," I admitted, hiding my smile behind my coffee cup, the steam curling up to warm my face. "I've grown fond of certain parts of you."
"Just certain parts?" He shot me a wounded look, amber eyes bright with mock hurt, his dimple threatening to appear. "Chere, you wound me."
"You'll survive," I said, taking a sip of my coffee, watching the standoff with the fascination of someone observing a nature documentary. "What's with the chicken?"
"Peace offering," Remy said, lifting the bird slightly, grease dripping from his fingers onto the weathered wood of the dock. "I figured—look, the big guy and I got off on the wrong foot. Multiple wrong feet. An entire centipede's worth of wrong feet." He glanced at me, something vulnerable flickering beneath his easy charm. "But if I'm going to be part of this pack, I need him to at least tolerate me. And you love him. So..."
He trailed off, gesturing vaguely with the chicken. My heart did something complicated in my chest. This ridiculous, beautiful man had gotten up early—Remy, who treated mornings like a personal insult—to try to make peace with my alligator. With a whole rotisserie chicken.
"You know the way to a reptile's heart," I said softly, bumping my shoulder against his.
"Hoping so," he muttered, turning his attention back to Gumbo, who hadn't moved an inch. Those yellow eyes were fixed on Remy with an intensity that would have made lesser men run screaming. "Hey, big guy. I know we've had our differences. You tried to eat my hand that one time. I may have called you some names that weren't very nice. Water under the bridge, yeah?"
Gumbo didn't blink.
"I brought you a present," Remy continued, holding up the chicken like an offering to an ancient god, his voice taking on a wheedling quality that I'd never heard from him before. "Whole chicken. Organic. Free-range. The fancy kind from that grocery store in town that charges way too much for everything." Hepaused, then added, "I even took the plastic wrapper off this time."
"This time?" I raised an eyebrow at him, amusement curling through me, my lips twitching with a suppressed grin.
"Don't ask," Remy said quickly, a flush creeping up his golden neck. "Point is—I'm trying here. I know you don't trust me. I know I'm the new guy. But I love her, okay? I love her, and I'm not going anywhere, and I really, really need you to stop trying to murder me every time I get within ten feet of the water."
Gumbo's tail moved slightly beneath the surface. A ripple spread outward, catching the morning light.
"Is that... good?" Remy asked me out of the corner of his mouth, his body tensing almost imperceptibly.
"Hard to say," I admitted, tilting my head as I watched my old friend with the ease of someone who'd known him for over a decade. "He's thinking about it."
"Thinking about accepting my offering, or thinking about how I'd taste with hot sauce?" Remy asked, his attempt at humor undermined by the slight tremor in his voice.
"Could be either, honestly," I said, keeping my voice light even as my own heart beat a little faster. Remy made a small, strangled sound in the back of his throat. But he didn't move. Didn't pull the chicken back. Just sat there, arm extended, waiting for judgment from a nine-foot prehistoric predator.
