"What the actual fuck?" I whisper as I spot two tiny motorized dirt bikes parked at what appears to be a starting line.
The boys are already running toward them, their littlelegs pumping with excitement as Ramsey helps them strap on helmets that look professionally fitted to their tiny heads. He's methodically checking the straps, making sure they're secure before moving on to elbow pads and knee guards.
"Are you kidding me? They can't ride those!" I hiss, my heart rate skyrocketing as I watch my three-year-old nephews being prepped for what looks like an X Games audition. "They're babies!"
Ramsey doesn't even look up from where he's adjusting Riot's helmet. "They're not babies; they're Blackwoods. And they've been riding these for months."
"Months?!" My voice comes out as a squeak. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
"Because you'd freak out." He finally looks up at me with that infuriating smirk. "Like you're doing right now."
I cross my arms over my chest, trying to calm the panic rising inside me. "They're three, Ramsey. Three! They can’t even tie their shoes!"
He stands up, moving over to help Ransom with his little padded riding jacket. "For how much my cousin causes chaos, he wouldn't give the boys anything they can't actually use. These are specifically made for toddlers—speed-limited, auto-braking system, roll cages. Penn had them custom-built."
"Of course he did," I mutter, watching as the boys bounce with excitement, their little bodies practically vibrating with anticipation.
Ramsey finishes the safety check and walks back to stand beside me. Without warning, he wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side. His handslides up to rest on the back of my neck, his fingers curling around the side, gripping lightly as his thumb strokes the skin just under my ear. It's something he's done for years—whenever I'm stressed or anxious, his hand finds my neck like it belongs there.
I hate how instantly it calms me, how my body immediately responds to his touch by relaxing into him.
"They'll be fine," he murmurs, his voice low and close to my ear. "I promise. I wouldn't let anything happen to them."
I lean into him almost involuntarily, my side pressed against his warm body as we watch Penn's mini-me’s take their positions on their tiny bikes. Ramsey gives them a thumbs up, and they're off, the little engines purring as they navigate the track with surprising skill.
My stomach is in my throat as they take the first turn, but they handle it perfectly. There’s no denying that they know what they’re doing. Riot even makes a show of popping his front wheel up slightly over one of the dirt mounds, earning a yell of approval from Ramsey.
"See?" His breath is warm against my ear, his body a solid wall of heat beside me. "They're naturals."
I can't help but smile as the boys make another lap, their little bodies leaning into the turns just like they've seen their dad do.
"They're absolutely fucking fearless," I say, my eyes glued to the boys as they zoom around the track. The words tumble out before I can stop them. "You're so good with them, Rams. Your future kids are gonna be so lucky."
The statement makes me pause. I’ve never really thought about Ramsey having kids, but since I just said it,that’s all I can see. I don’t want to linger too long on how that happens. I’m not ready to think about losing my best friend.
Ramsey's hand freezes on my neck, his thumb halting mid-stroke. I feel him tense beside me, and when I look up, there's something dark and intense in his eyes that makes my breath catch.
"Yeah, they are," he says, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly tone that makes my skin prickle with goosebumps. My heart hammers against my ribs as his gaze drops to my lips for the briefest second before returning to my eyes.
"Aunt Weese! Watch me!" Riot yells, pulling my attention back to the track where he's attempting some kind of miniature stunt.
I force a smile, waving at my nephew even as my heart pounds against my ribs. What the fuck just happened? That look Ramsey gave me wasn't friendly. It wasn't brotherly. It was…hungry.
"I'm watching, Ry!" I call back, my voice higher than usual.
The boys race for another ten minutes before they're ready for a snack break. Ramsey helps them park their tiny bikes and remove their gear with the efficiency of someone who's done this many times before. His big hands are gentle as he lifts helmets from little heads and unbuckles safety straps.
"Snack time!" Ransom declares, already running toward the house.
Riot follows his brother, leaving Ramsey and me alone inthe yard. The silence between us feels loaded now, heavy with something I'm afraid to name.
"I should go make sure they don't demolish the kitchen," I say, desperate to escape the tension.
Ramsey catches my hand before I can move, his grip firm but gentle. "Reese."
Just my name, but the way he says it makes my skin prickle with goosebumps. I look up at him, trying to keep my face neutral even as my pulse races under his fingers.
"What?" I manage to ask.
