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I shrugged. “Both, I guess.”

Crim’s eyebrows rose. “And you think Brashe is both?”

“I just mean… Haley mentioned he doesn’t actually date much. So did Veskar. And I’ve seen him in the park, giving food to people.”

Crim went very still, his spoon suspended in midair. “You’ve been paying that much attention to him?”

“I’m observant. It comes to me naturally.” I held up my hand before he could speak. “You don’t need to worry. I wouldn’t give him the time of day. He has been so incredibly stupid.” All the fury from earlier rose at once, aiming for the same target.

“I’m not disagreeing in general, but this feels…newer than the picnic. What has he done now and can I kill him for you?”

“Stop. No killing.”

“It’s the orc way.”

“We’re on the surface, not back in the orc kingdom.”

“So I’ll just wound him badly, then.”

“Crim,” I warned.

“Tell me what he did, and then I’ll decide.”

“I gave him a treatment plan for his injury. A child could follow it. And he went and skated on a grade one strain because he thought he knew better than me. Not once, but twice!”

Crim winced. “Ah. That explains the text from Coach.”

“He’s out for at least two games now. All because he couldn’t do as he was told for a few days.”

Crim stirred his stew in that methodical way he did when he was thinking.

“He’s scared of not being enough,” he said with a sigh. “Brashe isn’t like the rest of us. We grew up with families who told us we mattered outside of hockey. He grew up in the orc equivalent of a group home. Hockey was his way out. In his mind, his worth is tied to what he can do in the net. If he can’t play⁠—”

“He thinks he disappears, that he means nothing.”

Crim nodded. “Yeah. Glad you understand.”

“He mentioned something like this.”

My brother grunted.

We ate a bit more. The khesva was rich and savory, but I barely tasted it.

“I felt bad about the picnic, you know,” Crim said quietly, staring at his plate. “But I shouldn’t have said anything. You’re right. You can protect yourself. And you’re an adult.”

“You love me. I’d do the same for you.”

He took my hand and curled the fingers into a fist. “With a fist that I did teach you to use.”

“You know I would never want to hit anyone.”

“Except one idiot orc.”

“Well, maybe him, though not too hard.”

“The thing is, I saw you walking up to him at the picnic, and my gaze met his, and I saw the change on his face. I suspected if you reached out, he was going to turn you down. But I didn’t want you to get involved and end up hurt.”

“I wish you’d let me make my own mistakes.”