That earns me a long look.
He points once.
“Can you protect her like this?” he asks. “I know you, Harrison. I know the rules you live by. The walls you put up after everything you lost.”
I feel the weight of his stare.
“My sister doesn’t need someone who’s too close to see straight.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “When I lost my wife, I lost a lot of myself with her. I didn’t think I’d ever come back from that.”
I hold his gaze.
“But the kids brought me back. My family brought me back. And your sister…” I shake my head once. “She brought me back to a place I thought died a long time ago.”
I meet his gaze head-on.
“I will never let anything happen to your sister, Gabe. Period.”
Gabe tips his chin up. “You’re sure?” he asks. “Because when she goes back to Los Angeles… where will you be?”
Fair fucking question.
And one I don’t have an answer to. I’ve run this drill a hundred times and still can’t see the finish line.
“I don’t have all the answers,” I admit. He rolls his eyes, and suddenly, something about this inquisition is getting on my nerves. “ I respect you and love you like a brother, but whatever happens between your sister and me is for us to work out.”
He thinks that one through,
“You could’ve told me.”
“I know.”
“Like last night.”
He’s got a point.
Except last night, I had no idea Pix and I were even married. But considering he’s currently eyeing the knife block like he’s weighing his options, I keep that particular detail to myself.
I sidestep his inquisition. “Neither of us are impulsive people. Doing something like this is… new.” I shrug. “We’re still figuring it out.”
“You might be my boss,” he says quietly. “My best friend. And the one guy I’ve trusted my life to more times than I can count.” His jaw tightens. “But so help me God, if you ever hurt her?—”
“I won’t,” I say. “You know me.”
“I thought I did. But then again, I thought you didn’t really know my sister so there’s that.”
I plant my hands on the counter and think. I’ve lost Gabe’s trust. And the only way back is straight through the truth. So, I lay it all on the line.
“Look,” I say, blowing out a breath, “I did not wake up one day and decide I wanted to get involved with a woman whose coffee order feels like a TED Talk, cleans like it’s a competitive sport, and has an unhealthy attachment to romance novels.”
“Especially romantasy,” he says, smirking.
I shake my head. “Especially romantasy. Which, up until the day before I met her, didn’t exist in my vocabulary. And don’t get me started on the shoe situation.”
The faintest trace of a smile tugs at his mouth. “The ballet flats?”
I snap my fingers. “Those. I watched her fix a loose flap with hot glue. Hot glue, Gabe. Like it was fucking craft day at the county fair.”
