Page 76 of Verdict

But he wasn’t going to push.

And I thanked God for that.

It was the day before Thanksgiving, and we were all at my parents' house helping my mom prep. Farrah's family and Dean's family would join us tomorrow—it was going to be a big crew.

"Get the fuck off me!" Walker choked out, struggling to free himself from the headlock Weston had him in.

"Nah. Not until you admit I'm bigger and stronger than you." The look on Weston's face was complete contentment.

Addison was on the floor playing with Ellie. "Walk, I don't get why you always insist on fucking with West." She rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to my daughter.

"Wildflower, baby. Help me." Walker rasped, reaching his hands out toward his wife as his face continued to take on a concerning shade of reddish purple.

Farrah rested her hand on her small bump and sipped her water, unimpressed. "You do this to yourself, Ace."

Weston tightened his hold around Walker's neck with a satisfying laugh.

I sipped from my wine glass and looked at my mom. "Can you call West off? Walker’s beginning to look a little purple now."

With her focus fully on the dough she was rolling out, she shook her head on a sigh. "West, leave your brother alone."

Weston released Walker, who dropped to the floor, holding his neck, dramatically gasping for air—Weston never went against our mom.

"What the fuck, West. All I said was I could probably, maybe, beat you in an arm wrestle." He rubbed his neck.

My dad barked a laugh. "That's one version."

Dean took a pull from his beer. "Yeah. I believe the correct version was, West, I could totally kick your ass if I wanted to. We're the same size, and I'm younger and stronger."

"Semantics," grumbled Walker as he took a seat next to Farrah. "Whose side are you on anyway, Adler?"

Dean nodded toward Weston, "The side of the man who could kill me with his bare hands if he wanted to."

Weston shrugged. "Smart man."

Walker opened his mouth to argue but Farrah clasped her hand firmly over his mouth. "Ace. For the love of God, don't. Just shut the fuck up."

The room erupted in laughter.

"You're mean when you're pregnant," pouted Walker.

After helping my mom bake all of the pies, I settled Ellie down for a nap. When I was sure she was out, I headed back downstairs. The guys were all arguing loudly over football in the living room, while the girls were talking quietly around the dining room table.

I didn't want to join either of them.

Weston's gaze met mine as I lingered in the kitchen. He studied me a moment, his brows pulled together. An unspoken communication passed between us.

You okay?

I gave him a soft smile. I'm good.

He responded with a small nod as I slipped out the back.

I settled into one of the chairs by the fire pit. I pulled out my phone and scrolled mindlessly through social media before opening my camera roll. I’d taken a picture earlier of Ellie playing with pie dough on the counter, her smile wide and gummy. I switched to my contacts, my thumb hovering over Cohen’s name. We used to send each other things like that… little moments.

But we weren’t doing that anymore.

I tossed my phone onto the cushion beside me and stared out at the dark fields beyond the porch. The cold air bit at my skin, grounding in a way the noise inside the house wasn’t. Out here, everything was quiet. Still.