“She’s bossy,” he offers.
“I am not bossy,” I protest. “I’m encouraging.”
“Same thing.”
I throw a piece of carrot at his head. He catches it and eats it, grinning.
Ronan is watching us with an expression I can’t quite read. Envy, maybe. Or longing. He wants what we have. A mate. A partner.
I hope he finds her. He deserves that.
Dinner comes together in a chaos of laughter and bickering and Mother Lenora shouting instructions. Ronan ends up peeling potatoes while I direct him like a drill sergeant. Tolin mostly stays out of the way, content to watch us all orbit around each other.
When the food is finally on the table, we eat like we’re starving. Mother Lenora made enough for twenty people, and between the four of us, we make a significant dent.
Afterward, Mother Lenora and I start to stand, reaching for the dirty dishes.
“Don’t touch those.”
We both freeze at Tolin’s voice.
“Tolin,” I start.
“You cooked. You’re not cleaning.” He stands, taking the plates from my hands. “Sit down.”
Ronan rises too, backing him up. “He’s right. We’ve got this.”
Mother Lenora and I exchange a loaded look, something I can’t quite name. But we sit back down without arguing.
The brothers don’t talk as they clean up, one washing, one drying. From the table, I watch them. They look so much alike. And there’s so much I don’t know about what’s happened between them.
“They used to do this as cubs,” Mother Lenora says quietly. “Fight over who got to wash and who had to dry.”
“Before the challenge?”
“Before everything.” Her voice is soft. “They were so close once. Best friends as much as brothers. The challenge broke something between them that I wasn’t sure could ever be fixed.”
I watch Ronan hand Tolin a dish to dry, watch Tolin take it without looking, their movements synchronized from years of practice even after years apart.
“Maybe it can be,” I say.
Mother Lenora squeezes my hand. “Maybe it can.”
When the dishes are done, Ronan dries his hands and turns to Tolin.
“She fits,” he says quietly. “With the clan. With the family. With you.”
Tolin doesn’t say anything. Just nods.
“I’m glad you found her.” Ronan pauses. “I mean it.”
“You’ll find yours,” Tolin says. “She’s out there.”
“Maybe.” Ronan’s expression tenses briefly, then relaxes. “Until then, I’ll just keep fixing cars and scaring off your mate’s terrible coworkers.”
Tolin huffs out a laugh. “Derrick’s not that bad.”
“Derrick has a crush on your woman.”
