Then Scout looked away first.
He reached to the porch rail and picked up his pistol. He checked the chamber—mechanical, emotionless.Deliberate.
Burke caught the look.
“Ah, hell,” he muttered under his breath, not loud enough for anyone else to hear.
Tessa’s voice cut through the thick, awkward quiet.
“Kyle—don’t.”
She got it out steady, which was something.
Denton froze, guilt flashing across his face.
“Tess, I’m sorry. When they said you were missing—” His voicefaltered. “And I’m sorry for before. I shouldn’t’ve walked out the way I did.”
His hand hovered like he meant to touch her again.
Tessa shifted her weight, angling her body away a fraction, eyes flicking sideways toward Scout before she dragged them back to Denton.
Scout’s gaze stayed on the snow beyond the porch.
He didn’t look at her.
Burke saw Tessa’s shoulders tighten.
Armor slamming back into place.
“Everybody’s fine,” Burke said, cutting in before any more lines got crossed. “Let’s stay that way.”
He grabbed the spare rifle off his sled and tossed it underhand.
“Scout.”
Scout caught it one-handed, racked it, slung it across his shoulder.
“Appreciate it.”
His tone gave away nothing.
Burke turned to Tessa, eyes scanning for damage.
“You hurt?”
“Only a scrape,” she said. She snapped on her gloves.
Burke’s gaze sharpened.
“Scrape from what?”
“Someone took shots at us up by the stand after you took the Gradys down,” Scout said, tone flat, all business. “Three rounds. Tight grouping. Not an amateur. He was cutting rounds through the wind like he’d practiced it.”
McHan cursed under his breath.
Denton’s shoulders went tight.
Burke’s eyes narrowed.
