“I’ve brought people here?—”
Caleb snorted. “You’ve never once brought someone to this table who wasn’t already family or paying you.”
Wyatt grunted and stared out through the open double doors toward the mountains. The mountains didn’t ask stupid questions.
“She seems great,” Ryder offered, as if he was being generous.
“Sheisgreat. Can we move on?”
“Absolutely not,” Caleb said cheerfully.
They circled him the way they’d been trained to—no rush or mercy. You didn’t let the target redirect or set the pace.
Ryder went first. “Ellie likes her.”
“Ellie likes everyone.” Wyatt shook his head.
“No. She bit a kid at day-care last week.” Ryder grinned. “He was hogging the play kitchen.”
Caleb chuckled. “Kids are savage.”
Wyatt didn’t answer. Silence felt safer.
Caleb shifted his weight. Quieter now. This was how they worked. Ryder drew fire, Caleb flanked. “You didn’t let go of her knee.”
“What?” Wyatt frowned.
“At dinner.” Caleb’s voice was even. “Under the table. Your hand was on her knee.”
Wyatt’s fingers curled reflexively, so he rammed them back into his pockets out of sight. He stared at Caleb. “You were watching my hands under the table?”
“I was watchingyou.” Caleb shrugged. “There’s a difference.”
“And you smiled.” Ryder sat on the snowmobile and polished a dial with his cuff. “A lot.”
“I smile.”
“You really don’t.” Ryder swung his head in a no.
“You don’t,” Caleb agreed.
Wyatt exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s not, though.” Ryder’s voice was gentle. “That’s what’s scaring you.”
“We’re figuring it out.”
Caleb’s brow creased. “Figuring what out?”
Muscles in his jaw bunched. “Drop it.”
I don’t know how to be anything other than what I am.
Except his brothers never dropped anything. They’d been forged in the same fire—different wars, same understanding. You didn’t leave a man in the dark when you could see he was lost.
“She stayed at your place,” Caleb said. “In your bed. And you’re standing out here in the cold pretending this is just some situation you’re managing.”
“I’m not?—”
