Page 85 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

Finn steps in, launching into another story about a bet he lost to Rosie involving a horse and a very angry goose. Rosie is laughing and correcting him. Even Grier cracks a smile.

Gemma eats her stew with a weak smile. The whiskey sits untouched in front of Grier. The women by the fire are still watching.

I don’t miss the way Gemma glances back at him. I file the ache away somewhere deep and take a long drink.

The bowls empty, and the bread disappears. Finn leans back, patting his stomach, then cuts his eyes toward Grier.

“All right, Commander. Those ladies have been waiting long enough. Time to go be charming.”

Grier shakes his head. “I’m not⁠—”

“You are.” Finn stands up, clapping him on the shoulder. “Consider it an order. From me. Your subordinate. Who outranks you in matters of fun.”

Grier sighs, but he’s already pushing back from the table. Before he goes, his eyes find Gemma, and the weight of that look fills the space between them. She holds his gaze, then looks away and takes a long swig of her ale.

Grier follows Finn toward the fire.

Rosie shifts closer to Gemma, touching her arm gently. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Gemma tries for lightness, but it doesn’t land.

Rosie cups Gemma’s hands in hers. I can feel the conversation shifting into something private, and she deserves the space to fall apart if she needs to. I push back from the table.

“I’ll get us another round.”

At the bar, I take my time, giving them space.

A prickle runs down the back of my neck, the kind that comes from being watched. I turn, scanning the far end of the bar, but whoever it was is already gone. The feeling clings, and I try to tell myself it means nothing.

When I return with three fresh steins, Finn is back at our table, leaning over Rosie and Gemma.

“Come on. One dance. The music is good and the night is young⁠—”

Rosie looks eager to take him up on it, but doesn’t want to leave Gemma, who clearly doesn’t want to dance.

“Rosie, go.” I nod toward Finn. “Someone needs to keep Finn from embarrassing himself out there.”

Rosie hesitates, glancing at Gemma.

“Go,” Gemma says, mustering a small smile.

Rosie squeezes her hand, then lets Finn pull her toward the dance floor.

I slide into the seat beside Gemma.

Gemma watches them go, something wistful in her expression, before her eyes drift to the dance floor, to Grier. He’s dancing with the brunette now, holding her the way he holds everything, with quiet, steady certainty. No flourishes, no showing off, just the confidence of a man who doesn’t need to prove anything because he already knows his worth.

Gemma takes a long drink.

“He looks happy,” she says, and it sounds like it costs her.

“Does he?”

“Happier than he’s been in weeks.” She takes another drink.

I watch her watching him and see the conflict written across her face.

“Gemma.” I turn to face her fully. “You can still choose him.”