“Progress,” Sully called from the kitchen. “Last time he burned all of it.”
“You’re not helping,” Hudson shot back, but he grinned.
Jericho stood, careful to keep his distance. “You up for food?”
“I could eat,” she said softly.
He nodded, started to turn away, then paused. “Harley?” Hisvoice dropped, meant for her alone. “I won’t let him hurt you. Whatever it takes, I’ll keep you safe.”
She wanted to tell him she didn’t need protection. But ... aw, she’d had that fight before. And right now, exhaustion dragged at her bones and Orlando’s warmth seeped into her muscles and something about the way Jericho looked at her made her want to believe. To hope. “Okay,” she whispered, the word barely audible over the fire’s crackle. “Thank you.”
He held her gaze for a moment longer, then held out his hand.
Fine. She let him ease her off the sofa, his hand warm in hers. “I got it from here.”
He nodded, let her go, and headed toward the kitchen, leaving her with Orlando’s steady presence and the unsettling feeling that she’d just agreed to far more than protection.
Maybe even friendship.
The fire painted everything in soft gold, throwing shadows that danced across the log walls. Through the kitchen door lifted the sounds of family—laughter and teasing and the clatter of plates. Normal things. Safe things.
And maybe that was the most dangerous part of all. Because she could feel herself wanting this. Wanting to belong here, in this warm space with its worn furniture and family photos and people who looked at her like she belonged.
Oh no. This was how hearts got broken. Not with violence or drama, but with quiet moments and promises that felt too much like hope.
She was in so much trouble.
HER SWEET LAUGHstill had the power to crack his heart wide open.
Jericho leaned back in the rocking chair in front of the stonefireplace, watching Harley demolish his brothers at Monopoly, and something inside his chest shifted, like ice breaking up on the Copper River. She’d always been lethal at board games—a tactical mind that always seemed to be a couple steps ahead of everyone else. But when she coupled it with ribbing and a gleam in her eyes, she turned downright unbeatable.
The board, money, and cards covered the center coffee table. Sully was on one overstuffed chair, Harley on the other. Malachi and Hudson sat on the sofa across from them.
“I’m nearly broke!” Hudson groaned as Harley assessed the damage for landing on one of her properties. “I thought you were supposed to be concussed.”
“It’s like taking candy from a baby,” she said as he handed over his properties. “Too easy.”
“I hate this game,” Hudson said.
Malachi sorted through his dwindling pile of money. “I don’t know how you manage to run a profit when you do things like trade Park Place to Sully for Mediterranean Avenue.”
“That was strategic.” Hudson folded his arms.
“That was stupid,” Kennedy said from her perch on the arm of Sully’s chair. “Almost as stupid as that time you tried to fix the plumbing yourself.”
“Hey, I got it working,” Hudson said. “Eventually.”
“After you flooded the basement.” Malachi rolled the dice. “Six. Of course. Right to Harley’s Park Place. Perfect.”
Harley smiled, but Jericho caught the way she pressed her hand to her sternum, the slight tightening around her eyes. The bruising had to be brutal by now.
Orlando lifted his head from his spot by the fire, his gaze tracking between Jericho and Harley. The dog had barely left her side since they’d gotten home from the hospital.
Interesting.
“Pay up, Mal.” Harley held out her hand, then shifted in theleather chair, pulling up one of their mother’s knitted afghans. The movement cost her—color drained from her face.
“Speaking of paying up,” Malachi said as he counted out his rent money, “the pipes in the north wing are making that sound again. Like something’s trying to escape.”