His chin shifts on the top of my head. “I think Dad knows it bothers Gabriel that it bothers Dad.”
The youngest brother, with a heart that wouldn’t fly, watches his father, older brothers, and cousins wear the uniform—measured against something he couldn’t reach in a family that measures itself against the sky.
My own heart aches for him.
“Mrs. Sutton,” Ethan murmurs, pulling me from my troubled thoughts.
“Mr. Sutton.”
“I want to take you upstairs.”
The words land low in my stomach. I tilt my face up. His blue eyes behind his glasses are darker than I’ve seen them, the pupil swallowing the iris, and the look on his face is the careful, controlled version of a man holding himself back.
“Then take me upstairs.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice.
His hand finds mine, and he leads me through the yard, past the tables, the music, and the family whoops and hollers behind us with the subtlety of a barn full of cattle. Tom shouts something I choose not to hear. Maggie waves a napkin like a surrender flag. Delaney catches my eye and mouthsgowith a look that says she’ll handle the cleanup and everything else because that’s what Delaney does.
We make it through the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the hallway, and Ethan closes the bedroom door behind us with a soft click.
