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“And I meant it.”

Sage laughed, wet and shaky, into Isabelle’s hair.

When they pulled apart, Isabelle’s mascara had finally surrendered after hours of stage-five eyeliner warfare. Black rivers down her cheeks. She didn’t care. She cupped Sage’s face in both hands, thumbs gentle and trembling.

“Okay. Listen to me, Sage Thompson.”

“I’m listening.”

“You. Are. Magnificent.”

“Iz—”

“Magnificent. And if that man—” She pointed straight at Cal, who hadn’t moved from the railing but looked like he’d been expecting the accusation and was prepared for it. “If that man ever forgets that for one second, you call me. Three in the morning, I don’t care. I will fly out. I have a plane.”

“Iz, I know you have a plane.”

“A plane, Sage Thompson.”

“I know, sis.”

Isabelle’s voice dropped, low and real, the performance finally gone. “And Sage… you let him love you. Okay? The whole thing.”

Sage’s throat closed. “Okay.”

Isabelle kissed her forehead, then each cheek, slow and deliberate. Then she straightened, sniffled hard, and spun toward Cal.

“Cal Meridian.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Cal pushed off the railing, crossed the porch in three unhurried strides, and stopped in front of her—towering, calm, already softening. Snowflakes caught in his dark hair like tiny stars.

“You take care of my sister.”

Cal paused, sensing how important this was.

“With my life, Isabelle.”

Isabelle made a sound that wasn’t a word and lunged. Cal froze for half a second the way he always did with surprise hugs, then folded those enormous arms around her carefully. She buried her face in his chest; the top of her head barely reached mid-sternum.

“If you hurt her I will end you,” she mumbled into his Henley.

“I know.”

“I have lawyers.”

“I know you do.”

“Bad ones.”

“I’m sure they’re terrifying.”

She thumped his chest once. He absorbed it like the weather. When she pulled back, she wiped her face on the back of her hand and stepped away.