I don’t react, but the words hit their mark. I feel them sink in like a slow burn.
Zane’s interest in Mia isn’t hard to see, not to me. And Asher? He’s already one foot out the door, trying to convince himself this isn’t his fight.
Meanwhile, I’m standing in the middle of it, watching the whole damn thing fall apart.
This is getting ridiculous. I’ve handled hostage negotiations in war zones that were less tense than this. I move further into the house, trying to find Zane. Maybe he would be a better talker than Asher.
He’s at the kitchen counter now, cleaning his gun with slow, deliberate movements that screamdo not engage. The air between them is thick enough to chew.
I should leave it alone. Should let them work out whatever the hell is going on.
But I don’t.
Instead, I clear my throat. “So… I was thinking, maybe we should all sit down later, have a beer, talk about our feelings.”
Two sets of eyes snap to me, identical expressions of disbelief and vague horror.
Asher blinks. “Are you dying?”
Zane scowls. “Blink twice if Jason got to you.”
I sigh, leaning against the counter. “Look, I get it. Tensions are high, and we’re all a little?—”
“A little?” Asher scoffs. “That’s generous.”
Zane mutters something under his breath that I don’t catch, but based on the way Asher’s head snaps toward him, it wasn’t something friendly.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “In case you forgot, we’re supposed to be working as a team.”
“Is this about Asher leaving?” I say.
Asher doesn’t look at me. “We’re all professionals here, aren’t we? Asher’s leaving for a better pay. Good for him.”
“So him leaving has nothing to do with the fact that you are acting like a kicked puppy?
Zane finishes assembling his gun with a little too much force. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. And you definitely don’t know what’s going on with me.”
I think I do, yeah. Zane likes Mia. Something clearly happened between them. And Asher. Jesus, I can’t keep myself straight anymore.
Asher snorts coming into the kitchen. “Right, because you’re all about teamwork.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Zane deadpans. “Did you want me to bake cookies and braid your hair first? Let’s all then sit in a circle and talk about our feelings. We can even get Emma’s emotional support unicorn to help us”
“Boys,” I say, my patience thinning.
Zane gestures to Asher. “Tell him to stop acting like he’s already got one foot out the door.”
Asher shoots him a look. “Tell him to mind his damn business.”
I exhale slowly. “Tell both of you to quit acting like middle schoolers at recess.”
They glare at me.
I gesture toward the door. “Maybe we do some push-ups, scream into the woods—whatever helps you two recalibrate.”
Silence.
Zane finally huffs a little laugh. “You are so bad at this.”
