“You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window, Wyatt,” Ryder added.
Wyatt rounded on his brother. “Says the guy who opened his heart to a woman in a hospital gown with his ass hanging out.”
“That was romantic.” Ryder flashed his teeth.
“That was insane. You had a morphine drip in your arm.”
“And she still said yes,” Ryder doubled his smile. “Which tells you something about conviction.” His grin faded into somethingreal. “I’m not screwing with you. I mean—I am. Obviously. But I’m also not.”
Wind moved through the pines beyond the floodlights.
“The way you look at her?” Caleb’s voice dropped, stripped of everything but truth. “That’s not figuring it out. That’s already decided.”
Wyatt went still.
His breath formed thick plumes in the icy air.
From inside the house came the sound of Ellie’s giggles.
He stared at the dark treeline and let the silence take him.
It didn’t come in pieces he could sort or control.
It hit all at once.
Like a breach when you stopped holding the door shut—not because you chose to, but because you finally couldn’t.
Ellie climbing into Jen’s lap at dinner, as if she’d found exactly where she belonged. Waking that morning with Jen’s back against his chest, not wanting to move. Not for a mission. Not for anything. Her steadiness on the rig while the world came apart, working beside him like she’d always been there.
And tonight. Walking into his family and taking her place like she was meant to stay.
His throat closed.
That was the thing underneath everything else. The real thing.
He’d spent years building a life where no one stayed and no one needed to.
He was a weapon.
Weapons didn’t wake up slow on Sunday mornings with someone warm beside them.
He wanted Jen. Exactly as she was—smart, funny, stubborn.
And that terrified him more than any breach he’d ever walked into.
A breach had odds. This didn’t. This was just him, standing in the cold, completely exposed.
“I don’t know how to keep her safe.” His voice roughened. “And I don’t know who I am if I’m not doing that.”
No one spoke.
“You’re our brother. That’s who you are.” Caleb stepped in and palmed the back of his neck—the way their dad used to when they were kids and scared. “Don’t let her go.”
Ryder moved to his other side, shoulder to shoulder. “You’ve got this, brother.”
“And if you don’t,” Caleb jabbed gently between his shoulder blades, “you’ve still got us.”
Wyatt let out a breath that was half a laugh. He rolled his shoulders, dropped them a fraction. “Fuck me. That’s reassuring.”
