Amelia looks at Sophie with gratitude that hurts to witness.
Derby looks at Amelia.
That look ain’t lust, though I’m sure lust is in there somewhere because Derby is Derby and Amelia is a pretty woman with a mouth on her. It’s something else tonight. Protective and irritated and unwilling.
Trouble.
I recognize trouble in a brother before he does.
Amelia carries August back to the table but doesn’t sit. “I need to put him to bed.”
“Yes,” Sophie says. “Come on.”
This time, Amelia lets Sophie lead her toward the stairs. Before she goes up, she turns back to me.
“I didn’t come here to take anything from you.”
The words are quiet.
I believe she means them.
That don’t mean she won’t.
“I know,” I say.
Her eyes search my face. “Do you?”
No.
Not fully.
But I want to.
That is dangerous enough for tonight.
“I know you didn’t come here the way an enemy would,” I say.
It’s the closest to comfort I can offer without lying.
She nods once and follows Sophie upstairs with August tucked against her.
When they are gone, the room exhales.
Derby turns on me first. “You came at her too damn hard.”
Royal’s head tilts. “Bold, considering you greeted her with underwear commentary.”
“She needed to laugh.”
“She needed not to be interrogated after midnight,” Derby shoots back.
I look at him. “You attached already?”
His face closes. “Don’t start.”
“Too late.”
He steps closer to the table. “She’s got a kid, Prez. She’s scared out of her damn mind. You saw that bruise.”