“I’m an ME1,” he said. “Maritime Law Enforcement Specialist, First Class.”

“Is that like the Big Cheese?” Winnie asked.

“My rank’s E-6. If I went up one more to E-7, I’d be a chief. A chief runs the field, but usually from an office.”

“Not as exciting,” Winnie said.

“I’m not an office kind of guy,” he said on an easy shrug.

Gavin came to the table with egg-and-sausage burritos. He squeezed Piper’s shoulder. “Not trying to steal your thunder, just want to take care of you once in a while.”

Touched, she smiled at him, and the rest of them stopped talking to eat and give the occasional moan of pleasure.

The burritos were amazing. Restaurant quality. “Okay,” Piper said. “You win.”

“It wasn’t a contest,” Gavin said modestly, and paused. “But do make sure to note this down in your journal. I want it on record to offset the next time I screw something up.”

“Hey, we’re all adults now,” Piper said. “So there’s no screwing anything up. We’re all on the same page. No secrets equals no fights.”

No one made eye contact.

“What?” she asked.

Emmitt lifted his glass of chocolate milk. “To family.”

Winnie and Gavin quickly grabbed their glasses and lifted them too. “To family.”

And even though Piper knew she’d once again missed something, the moment was gone.

Chapter 8

“If you feed me now, no one dies.”

A few mornings later, Piper staggered downstairs in search of caffeine, pausing just outside the kitchen at the sound of voices.

“How did we all get so ridiculously broken?” Winnie asked.

Gavin laughed roughly. “You really need me to answer that? At least we’re home with our glue stick, Piper.”

Winnie was quiet at that, her silence seeming to suggest that while Piper might be the glue, she was also a little unglued . . .

Fair. Piper felt distinctly unglued lately. She’d just started to enter when Gavin spoke again. “When are you going to tell her, Win?”

“Never.”

Gavin made a sound of disappointment.

“Whatever, Gav. People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

Piper would’ve liked to hear more, but Sweet Cheeks chose that very moment to wind around her legs, letting out a very loud series of chirps that said, “If you feed me now, no one dies.”

Piper winced as both siblings turned toward her, startled. “Hey,” she said casually. “What’s going on?”

Gavin and Winnie looked at each other. Then Gavin shrugged. “Might as well admit it, since she’s about to find out.”

Winnie shifted her weight. “Gav—”

“Winnie burned breakfast.”

Piper could have called that out for the lie it clearly was, but . . . she could smell it. She eyed the kitchen, stopping short at the realization that the place looked like a cyclone had hit it.