I hate it.
I respect it more.
The club taught me family doesn’t mean locking someone down until they forget how to stand. It means standing close enough that nothing can knock them over.
Fine.
I can stand close.
“You’re not going alone.”
Her lips part, then one corner lifts. “What, you’re going to guard the hospital?”
She means it as a joke.
Pretty mistake.
“Yeah.”
Her smile fades. “Ace.”
“What time’s your shift?”
“I was kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“You can’t lurk around Lovestone Ridge Medical Center looking like...” Her gaze drops over my bare chest, my briefs, my bandaged shoulder. Her cheeks go red. “Like that.”
I let my mouth curve. “I own pants.”
“That is not my point.”
“I’ll wear boots too.”
“Ace.”
“Sweetheart, I’ve got two prospects in my trees, Ghost hunting, Viper and Blade tracking a blood trail, and Havoc handling the cartel end. You think I’m letting you walk into that hospital without a Saint at your back?”
Her expression shifts.
Softer.
Warmer.
Like brotherhood means something to her even before she understands it.
“The club really does that?” she asks.
“Shows up?”
She nods.
“Always.”
Her throat moves.
I step closer and brush my thumb along her jaw.