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I leave Dane and Rafe to argue over the last cookie and the stack of invoices that need sorted.

Saint looks up from the feed bin as I approach, brushing the dust from his hands. "You alright?"

"Aye." I force a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "Have ya got a minute?"

"For you?" He grins. "Always."

Keira offers me a small smile before glancing between the two of us. "I'll leave you to it."

When she turns to go, I reach out and catch her by the forearm. "I'd...actually like you to stay."

Her brows knit together. "Me?"

I nod. "Yeah."

Saint studies me for a moment. "Is something wrong, Sera?"

"No." I shake my head, my throat dry. "Nothing's wrong. But we should go somewhere private. There's something I need to tell you."

Saint tips his head toward the feed room across the yard. "Come on."

The three of us cross the yard, the wind chasing loose strands of hay around our boots. Somewhere behind the barns, a horse stamps against a stable door, and water hits the bottom of a metal bucket.

We step inside, the familiar scent of grain and molasses wrapping around me as Saint pulls the door almost closed behind us.

I look from my brother to Keira.

"Do you miss your family?"

Keira blinks.

"Sort of," she says. "I was away at boarding school, then Paris. I got used to being away before I ever came here. Fionn checks in every so often, and my little sister’s too busy with school and her friends these days."

Saint slips his hand into hers without a word.

"So it wasn't hard?"

Keira smiles. "Fighting with them was. Living here wasn't."

“Do you see this going somewhere?” I ask. “Like do ya have a future together?”

My hand settles over the chain beneath my jumper, and the ring presses against my palm.

Saint’s eyes narrow. “Am I going to need my gun at the end of this conversation?”

I make a face at him. “Don’t be so dramatic."

“Well, the fact ya answered that so quickly worries me.”

“Just answer the question.”

His fingers tighten around Keira’s, but he stares right at me. “She’s it for me.”

“And Ma?”

The curve at the corner of his mouth disappears. “Times are changing. She has to accept it.”

“I don’t think she ever will, though.”