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Brynn is his sister, and I’m his best friend. The betrayal will not go unanswered, even if it’s beyond our control. This is not a good idea, but it’s still better than anything else I’ve come up with so far.

And it gives me more time with Brynn while I can still take it.

How am I going to manage when Brynn’s gone?

I can barely be away from her when she’s in the same territory. I won’t be able to function. I walk up the front steps to the house, knocking loudly.

Here goes everything.

“What are you doing here?” Brax asks. “Is there a problem? Is it Willow Grove?”

He’s ready for battle, his broad shoulders squaring as if he’s ready to shift into his panther body. I flash him the most disarming grin I can muster under the circumstances.

“No, no problem,” I tell him quickly.

Brax’s brow furrows in confusion. “What are you doing here then?”

“Can’t a guy drop in for a beer with his best friend?” I ask nonchalantly, leaning against the door frame and trying to sound casual.

Perplexed, he looks behind me. “You alone?”

“Are you?” I quip back.

He snorts. “Brynn just got home. I’m pretty sure she’s about to go to bed.”

Lucky bed.

I shake off the thought. “I’m alone.”

He steps back to let me in.

“I’m just surprised. You didn’t mention stopping by when I left the packhouse,” Brax explains. “You haven’t stopped by spontaneously in a long time.”

I follow him across the threshold, allowing the door to close, and my breath catches as I look for Brynn. She’s nowhere in sight.

She’s smart. She’s going to come out slowly, tentatively.

“That’s why I got the urge,” I lie. “It’s been a while since we just hung out. And with all this shit going on, I thought it might be good for us.”

“Well, I’m happy you’re here,” Brax tells me, and then heads to the fridge and grabs a couple of beers.

I make myself comfortable on their small, L-shaped couch, my head turning to look outside. A heaviness lingers over the sky like rain is coming, the smell of ozone permeating the air.

“I heard thunder earlier,” Brynn comments from behind me.

I don’t turn, even as Brax hands me a beer and plops on the couch beside me.

“Did you?” her brother replies. “It’s a bit overcast, but I don’t think it’ll rain.”

We’re talking about the weather.

Slowly, deliberately, I move my head in her direction, the fission of energy pulsating so strongly, I’m surprised it doesn’t reverberate through the glass of the coffee table. I know I’d promised not to look at her, but I can’t help myself, my eyes searching her face as Brax takes a swig of his drink.

“I thought you were going to bed.” Brax stares at her questioningly.

She stands at the entrance of the living room, and I shift my eyes away, fixating on my beer.

I wait for Brax to call us out, to sense what we’ve been hiding.