“I could,” his voice crackled back, dropping the military act completely. “But then I’d be doing it alone, and I thought maybe you’d want some quality time with your favorite brother. To bond.”
I looked at the radio. “Are you really that lonely?”
“Why rely on cold, unfeeling tools when I have a strong older brother built for manual labor?” Colt said brightly. “Take your time. I was gonna take a break anyway. Out.”
“He just wants an excuse to lay eyes on you and make sure that shoulder’s actually holding up,” Wyatt said quietly.
I crossed my arms and looked away. “The shoulder’s healing.”
“Good.” Wyatt leaned back against the shed. “But you know, you don’t have to carry all of it.”
“I know.”
“I’m just saying. You took the worst of that hit in the alley, you’re still riding hurt, and now you’re doing those videos on top of everything else. You’re spread real thin right now, Brock.”
I didn't answer, mostly because he wasn't wrong, but partly because the real weight on my chest wasn't the schedule or my shoulder. It was the woman currently sitting in my kitchen.
“Does Sienna know?” he asked. “About the money or how tight it’s been?”
I picked at a fleck of rust on the shed door. “No, and keep it that way.”
“Why?”
Because she’d look at me with pity. And I couldn’t stomach that.
“It’s not her problem,” I said, making my voice hard. “She’s here to do a job. That’s all.”
Wyatt looked at me for a long moment. He’d raised Maisie on his own. He knew exactly what a man sounded like when he was lying to himself.
“Right,” he said. “A job.”
He pushed off the shed like he was heading for the house, but after two steps he stopped and turned back.
“You know, Maisie said something at breakfast.”
“Yeah?”
“She said you’ve been smelling like Sienna’s flowers lately. Not just some days. Every day.” He fixed me with a slow look. “Then she asked if that made Sienna her aunt.”
My mouth went dry.
“She’s a kid,” I said. “Kids ask about everything. Tell her Sienna’s not her aunt.”
“I did, and then she cried a little, because she likes her. So, will you tell me what’s going on between you two?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You do smell like her perfume. You two won’t look at each other at the dinner table. And you’ve been jumpier than a stray dog all week.”
My jaw locked.
“If she’s just doing a job, fine,” he pressed. “But Maisie’s getting attached to her. So I need to know right now—are you letting her leave, or not?”
Wyatt and Wren inherited our mom’s green eyes, and I’d always found it damn near impossible to lie to either of them when one looked at me like that.
I let out a harsh breath, the fight draining out of me.
"It’s not a matter of letting her. She's got a whole life back in Chicago. I can't make her stay." I scrubbed a hand over the back of my neck. "But yeah, we’re together."
