Tindra squeals. Actually squeals. "I knew it! I knew it was going to be like that. This is the most romantic thing that's ever happened in this family."
"Your parents knew each other for most of their lives but connected in a hospital. Both of them half-dead," Runes says dryly.
"I’m pretty sure I asked your mom out when we were both hooked up to IVs." Tor adds. "Very romantic."
Meghan laughs. “It was romantic. He shared his Jell-O with me. The good kind. Red.”
"The bar is in hell," Tindra mutters.
"Tindra!"
"What? I'm just saying, Dalla's story is better. Hot Irish bodyguard saves her from assassins and then falls madly in love with her? That's a movie. That's like, five movies."
"Can we please talk about literally anything else?" Dalla begs. “And no one said anything about love, it’s been way too soon for that 4-letter L word.”
I smirk, amused at how uncomfortable her family is making her.
"Fine." Tindra sits back, crossing her arms. "But I'm getting the full story later. In private. With wine."
"No wine," Meghan says. "You have work tomorrow."
"I'm twenty-four. I can make my own decisions."
"And yet you still live at home."
"Because rent is expensive!"
The bickering continues, familiar and comfortable, and I realize this is what family sounds like.
Not the silence of my childhood, not the careful, measured conversations between soldiers.
This is chaos and love and people who drive each other crazy but would die for each other without thinking about it.
It's loud and messy and overwhelming.
It's wonderful.
I've never had this.
The Brotherhood isn't a family—it's an organization.
Da raised me alone, trained me to be useful, prepared me for a life of service.
There were no siblings to tease me, no parents to embarrass me with childhood stories, no extended family to gather around a dinner table.
I didn't know what I was missing.
Now I do.
Under the table, Dalla's hand finds my knee.
She squeezes once, and when I look at her, she's smiling—soft and private, just for me.
Later, after dinner is done and dishes are cleaned and goodbyes are said, we head back to the clubhouse and get out of the car.
The compound is quiet, most of the members either at the bar or already asleep.
The sky is clear, stars scattered across the blackness, and the air is warm and thick with the smell of pine and swamp.
