"Knew what?" I ask.
"That Mae might need to make some hard choices."
Something in Eli shifts. I feel it more than see it—the way his body goes still, dangerous quiet settling over him.
Before it can go any further, the front door opens.
Aunt Mae steps out onto the porch, eyes sharp, posture calm. She takes in the scene in a single glance and misses nothing.
"Cole," she says pleasantly. "Please, come inside."
The words are polite.
The invitation is not.
Cole's smile widens. He gives me one last look, all easy confidence and calculated patience, then turns toward the house like he's already been invited to stay.
I watch him go, my pulse loud in my ears, then turn to Eli.
"What the hell was that about?"
He goes still for a beat. His gaze cuts once toward the house, then back to me, dark and closed off.
I catch his arm before he can walk away.
"Eli—"
"I can't go in there." His voice is tight, controlled. "Not with him."
I understand. If Eli's in that room when Cole starts talking numbers, it'll end with someone bleeding.
"I'll tell you everything," I say.
He nods once. Then heads for the barn, shoulders rigid, hands already curling into fists.
I hesitate for half a second.
Then I turn and go after Cole, my steps quickening as unease curls low in my stomach.
I push through the front door just in time to hear Aunt Mae's voice carrying down the hallway.
"Right this way, Cole."
Footsteps move toward my dad's old office, the sound muffled by thick rugs and years of use. I slow, instinct prickling, and follow at a distance.
The house feels different with him in it. Tighter. Like something unwelcome has been let past the threshold.
By the time I reach the office doorway, Cole is already inside, hat in hand, posture easy and respectful in a way that barely resembles the man who was just needling me in the yard. His voice is smooth now, measured.
"I appreciate you making time for me, Mae. I know things have been… complicated lately."
Aunt Mae gestures him toward one of the leather chairs. "Sit. Let's hear what you came all this way for."
I hover just outside the doorframe, watching him shift seamlessly into something else. No swagger. No barbs. Just confidence, polished and professional.
It makes my stomach turn.
This version of Cole is worse somehow. Sharper. More dangerous than the one who throws pointed comments in the yard. This one smiles with purpose.
