Izzy glanced back toward the house. Toward the porch steps. Toward the suitcase sitting exactly where she’d left it on the porch.
“Also,” Caitlin added, a familiar edge of humor slipping in, “you don’t get fired and run home with your tail between your legs. That’s not the Moreno way.”
Izzy snorted, the sound clean. “No,” she said. “It isn’t.”
“Good,” Caitlin said. “Because I’d have to disown you, and I don’t have time for a new best friend.”
The line earned a real laugh—small, but completely genuine. Izzy looked back toward the farmhouse one more time, her focus landing on the dark window where she knew Grant was waiting. Toward everything she hadn’t figured out yet.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice regaining its steady, unyielding line. “I’m staying.”
* * *
Burke leaned his lower back against the porch rail, his thumbs hooked into his belt beside his star, watching the two women down along the ridge path.
The screen door creaked. Grant stepped out of the house, stopping the moment he saw his brother.
“Sheriff.”
“Scott.”
They stood there side by side in silence, both looking out toward the drop-off where Caitlin and Izzy were talking. Burke didn’t look over when he spoke, his voice level.
“Went for it, huh?”
Grant’s hands shoved deep into his pockets. “What?”
Burke finally turned his head, his eyes steady under the brim of his hat. “You heard me.”
Grant looked away. “You’re making assumptions, Burke.”
Burke let out a quiet breath, turning back to the ridge. “Am I?” His gaze slid back toward Izzy’s distant silhouette. “That look on her face… and yours? Doesn’t come from a bad business call, brother.”
The quiet stretched long across the porch. Grant didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it either. Burke watched him another second, measuring the rigid tension in his shoulders. Not pushing—but not backing off.
“Just don’t make it my problem.”
Grant exhaled through his nose, his eyes fixed on the path. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good.”
Down the ridge, Izzy and Caitlin turned and started back toward the house. Grant’s focus shifted instantly, his eyes tracking her alignment. Burke was watching him. Of course, he was.
“She staying?” Burke asked.
Grant didn’t look at him. “Looks like it.”
Burke nodded once, a definitive movement that confirmed more than it answered. “Alright then.”
Grant cut a sharp look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Burke pushed off the porch rail, adjusting his hat as he turned toward the door. “It means things just got a hell of a lot more complicated,” he said over his shoulder. “For everybody.”
He stepped inside, the screen door clicking shut behind him.
Grant stayed exactly where he was on the steps, watching her walk back up the gravel drive, his heart thudding heavy and uneven. He was not nearly as unaffected as he wanted to be.
He never had been.
