"Gemma—"
"No." I squeeze his hands, holding him in place. "You're not going to throw your life away for him. He's not worth it. And I need you here. I need my brother, not a vigilante who's going to end up in prison."
"He deserves to die for what he did to you."
"Maybe he does. But that's not your call to make. And it's not what I need." I hold his gaze, keeping my voice even though my heart is pounding. "What I need is for you to be here. To support me while I file the restraining order and rebuild my life. To let me handle this my way, with the law and with the Brotherhood backing me up. Can you do that?"
Cole is silent for a long moment. His jaw works, and the war plays out behind his eyes—the part of him that wants to protect me through violence fighting against the part that knows I'm right.
"Will said the same thing," he finally admits. "When the background check came back. He talked me down."
"Will's a smart man."
"He's in love with you." Cole says it flatly, like a statement of fact.
The words hit me sideways. "What?"
"You didn't know?" He almost laughs. "Jesus, Gem. The man can't take his eyes off you. He nearly took my head off when I suggested you might be better off somewhere else."
"That doesn't mean?—"
"Yeah. It does." Cole's voice softens. "And unless I'm wrong, you feel the same way."
I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. Because he's not wrong.
"I think I do," I finally say. "I think I have for a while, even before I let myself admit it."
Cole nods slowly, processing this. "He's my best friend. And you're my sister." He meets my eyes. "If he hurts you, I'll kill him."
"He won't hurt me."
"No, he won't." Cole's mouth curves slightly. "But I'm still your brother. Warning him is my job."
We sit in silence for a while, the pasta sauce cooling on the stove, the evening light fading through the windows. Eventually Cole stands, pulls me into a hug, and holds me for a long time without saying anything.
When he lets go, his eyes are clearer. "I'm proud of you," he says. "For getting out. For telling me. For being strong enough to do this your way."
"I learned from watching Will." The words come out before I can stop them. "The way he leads. It's not about control. It's about protecting without smothering. Giving people room tomake their own choices while making sure they know you've got their back."
"Yeah. That's Will." Cole shakes his head. "Look at you, getting all philosophical."
"Shut up."
"There she is." He grins. "Welcome back, Gem."
I smile, and for the first time in years, it feels real.
That night, I drive to Will's house.
I've never been in it before. It's a small craftsman on a quiet street near the water, the kind of house that looks lived-in without being cluttered. A motorcycle sits in the driveway, and the porch light glows warm against the darkness.
I park behind the bike and sit for a moment, gathering my courage. This is a choice. A clear-headed, deliberate choice, made not out of fear or desperation but out of want. Pure, uncomplicated want.
I get out of the car and walk to the door.
Will opens it before I can knock, like he sensed me coming. He's wearing jeans and a faded t-shirt, his feet bare, his hair slightly damp from a recent shower. His expression shifts when he sees me—surprise, then concern, then heat that makes my pulse quicken.
"Is everything okay?"
