“Careful,” Elijah warned, his voice dropping to that dangerous quiet. “Ye’re oversteppin’. Keep this up, and ye will end up muckin’ the stables in nothin’ but a loincloth.”
“Well, I’ve done worse, and besides, it seems ye need someone to overstep. Ye need someone to tell ye that it’s all right to be scared about yer son. It’s all right to care about yer wife. It’s all right to let people see that ye’re human instead of this emotionless beast ye pretend to be.”
“I’m nae pretendin’ anythin’. This is who I am.”
“Bollocks. This is who ye’ve decided to be because it’s safer than riskin’ gettin’ hurt again.” Henry’s voice softened. He shifted his weight slightly, careful not to step too close. “But Elijah, that lass in there? She’s nae Margaret. She’s nae goin’ to break because ye care about her. If anythin’, she’ll probably thrive on it.”
“Ye daenae ken that.”
“Daenae I? I’ve seen how she handles Codie, how she stood up to ye in front of the entire clan, how she managed that festival like she was born to it. She’s strong, Elijah. Maybe strong enough to handle the real ye instead of this armored version.”
Elijah wanted to argue, to tell Henry he was wrong, but the words stuck in his throat because maybe, just maybe, his friend had a point.
“Move,” Elijah said, not letting his face show defeat.
“Make me.” Henry’s eyes glinted with challenge. Still, a flicker of unease crossed his face as Elijah’s tone dropped low—a warning beneath the words. His fingers flexed at his sides. “Come on, yegreat broodin’ beast. If ye’re so tough, surely ye can push past one skinny man-at-arms.”
Despite his foul mood, Elijah felt his mouth twitch. This was familiar ground, the banter they’d shared for years, the easy insults that meant more than most people’s compliments.
“Skinny? Ye’re gettin’ soft in yer old age, Henry. Too much time supervisin’ the men and nae enough time actually trainin’ with them.”
“Says the man who spent the last hour moonin’ over his wife like some lovesick calf.” Henry didn’t budge from the doorway, but his shoulders stiffened a little as Elijah’s gaze narrowed like an animal aware it was teasing a predator. “At least I can look a woman in the eye without actin’ like I’ve been struck by lightnin’.”
“I daenae moon.”
“Ye do. Ye’ve been moonin’ since the day she arrived though ye’re too stubborn to admit it.” Henry’s expression grew more serious though the teasing edge remained in his voice. His throat bobbed with a quiet swallow, but he didn’t back down. “Want to ken what I think?”
“Nae particularly.”
“I think ye’ve gone and done the one thing ye swore ye’d never do—ye’ve fallen for yer own wife—and now ye’re terrified because carin’ about someone means they can hurt ye.”
Elijah’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. Henry flinched, barely—a muscle jumping in his jaw—but he held his ground out of loyalty, not because he wasn’t aware of the danger.
“Ye daenae ken what ye’re talkin’ about.”
“Daenae I? Then why are ye standin’ here arguin’ with me instead of goin’ up to check on yer sick son?” Henry pushed off from the wall. The movement was slower than usual, a careful shift rather than a bold step forward. “I’ll tell ye why. Because ye’re afraid of what ye’ll feel when ye see him, and ye’re afraid of lettin’ Iris see ye feel it. So instead, ye’re hidin’ down here with me, pretendin’ ye’re still the same cold bastard ye’ve always been.”
The accusation hit too close to home because Henry was right—Elijah was afraid. Afraid of walking into that room and seeing Codie suffering. Afraid of the way his heart would crack open at the sight. Afraid of Iris witnessing his weakness and realizing she’d married a man who was terrified of his own emotions.
“Codie’s me son,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Daenae presume to tell me how I should feel about him.”
“I’m nae tellin’ ye how to feel. I’m tellin’ ye to stop hidin’ from yer feelings like some coward.” Henry met his glare without flinching—well, almost without flinching. His breath caughtsharply in his throat, but he forced himself to stand firm. “Ye want to be angry with me? Fine. Take a swing. But it willnae change the fact that yer son is upstairs needin’ his Da, and ye’re down here actin’ like a stone wall because showin’ concern would be too dangerous.”
Elijah was quiet for a long moment, turning Henry’s words over in his mind. Part of him wanted to reject everything his friend was saying, wanted to retreat back into the familiar armor of cold indifference.
But this other part really wanted to try.
“What do I do?” he asked finally.
“Start by goin’ upstairs and checkin’ on yer son. Then, when ye see Iris, try actin’ like a normal human bean’ instead of some emotional stone wall.” Henry grinned. The grin was a touch shaky at the edges but genuine. “And if that’s too hard, just remember, she’s already seen ye naked and apparently dinnae run screamin’. That’s got to count for somethin’.”
Despite everything, Elijah felt his mouth twitch again. “Ye’re an arse.”
“Aye.” Henry stepped back, gesturing toward the stairs. The way he stepped back carried a faint hint of relief—like a man glad to still have his skin intact. “Now go. Yer family needs ye.”
Yer family.
The words echoed in Elijah’s mind as he climbed the stairs toward Codie’s room. A family. Was that what they were becoming? Him, Iris, and Codie? It felt too fragile, too precious to be real. But as he reached Codie’s door and heard Iris’ gentle voice inside, soothing and calm, he realized that maybe it was real.
