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The giant smoker behind the house has been running since sunrise, and every time I walk past it, something new appears. Brisket, ribs, chicken, and some mysterious foil-wrapped thing nobody is allowed to touch because apparently it's ‘resting.’

I don't know what that means.

What I do know, is Clint has become increasingly offended by everyone else's opinions. Which is unfortunate, because Gears apparently has opinions about everything.

I wander outside carrying a glass of sweet tea, just in time to hear Clint inform the president of a motorcycle club that he's committing crimes against brisket.

Gears looks offended, and slightly confused.

"You wrap it?"

"Of course I wrap it."

"You already lost me."

Clint points a pair of tongs at him. "You're one of those people."

"What people?"

"The people that think suffering builds character. Eating a dry brisket? That’s definitely suffering."

Across the yard, Hunter laughs and Gidge nearly falls out of her chair.

"Oh my God.” She holds a hand over her chest.

Hunter narrows his eyes. "What?"

"You do know how to laugh."

"Don't start."

"I thought maybe your face couldn't do it anymore."

Across from her, Acid snorts into his drink and Arrow immediately looks away.

Which somehow makes it funnier.

Hunter flips her off, gets up, and heads toward where Briggs is standing, but Gidge looks delighted.

I sit with Gidge, watching my brother and my quietest and crankiest alpha talk.

"They're the same person," Gidge says, breaking my concentration.

"They are not."

I look at her, and we both glance back toward the pair.

Hunter says something, and I can immediately tell that Briggs disagrees. Hunter folds his arms, then Briggs folds his arms. The positions are identical.

Gidge starts laughing so hard she nearly spills her drink.

"Oh my God,” she cackles.

"They are both stubborn," I admit. "And protective, and they both think they're right."

Gidge wipes tears from her eyes.

I stick my tongue out at her, but she only winks at me.