Gavin looks at me. “Rhett. Your call on where she stays tonight.”
Every head turns.
Emma blinks. “Wait. He gets to decide?”
Chase’s smile turns wicked. “Oh, yeah. Rhett is our hospitality director.”
“I am not,” I say flatly.
Rafe’s mouth twitches. “You’re the only one with a cabin that’s been untouched by Chase’s chaos for more than twenty-four hours.”
“Because I threatened to bury him in the snow,” I say.
Chase lifts a hand. “Worth it.”
Emma’s brows lift, amusement flickering. “You threatened to bury him in snow?”
“I have standards.”
“You have… homicidal tendencies.”
“I have boundaries.”
She stares at me for a beat, then says, “I like boundaries.”
The words should be normal. They aren’t. Because her voice goes soft around them, and my brain immediately supplies images that do not belong in a war room.
I clear my throat, irritated with myself. “She stays with me.”
Silence hits.
Wyatt’s fingers pause over his keyboard. Thorne’s eyes narrow. Boyd’s gaze lifts slowly like he’s re-evaluating gravity. Even Gavin’s eyebrows rise a fraction, which—if you know Gavin—is basically a full-body reaction.
Chase breaks the silence first. “Ohhh. Rhett has a guest.”
“I said she stays with me,” I repeat, sharper.
Chase holds up both hands. “Relax, big guy. I’m happy for you and your… new roommate.”
Emma’s head snaps toward Chase. “Roommate?”
Eli coughs like he’s choking back a laugh. “We’re all adults here.”
“No,” Emma says, eyes wide. “I’m not staying alone with—” She gestures at me like I’m a wild animal that wandered in. “—Mr. Tactical Mood Swing.”
“Good,” I say. “Because you’re not staying alone anywhere.”
Her mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. “That didn’t sound comforting.”
“It’s not meant to be,” I say. “It’s meant to be safe.”
Gavin’s voice turns low. “Rhett?—”
I cut him off with a look. “Don’t question it.”
The room goes dead quiet again. Gavin holds my gaze. Commander to operator. He’s trying to decide if I’m making an emotional call.
He’s right to worry.