She flicked her eyes up, but went with it. “I don’t have friends. It’s you, Jordan, and Zellman. I inherited your sister from you, but Tabatha is different. I hated her at first, couldn’t stand her. We had some issues, but I don’t know. I like her. And I’m pissed that we didn’t push Jordan or her about what happened before this. Two months, Cross. Two months. She’s been doing what she’s been doing for two months, and we could’ve helped it. We could’ve stopped it, even.”

“Yeah, but we didn’t know. She didn’t come to us. He didn’t either. We were–”

“We weren’t in each other’s businesses because of me. It’s my fault. All of this is my fault because you guys have been tiptoeing around me like I’m made of glass. And I get it. I don’t know how I feel about my dad being out of prison, but it doesn’t matter—”

“It matters.”

“—he’s not even here. He’s back in Roussou, so I’m here. I’m doing my life here.”

She faltered, and fuck me…I knew what she was struggling with.

She was feeling guilty about being here for me, for the guys, for herself, when he was out and alone. He killed for her; that’s how Bren thought about it, and she was here. Not there. She wasn’t taking care of him. Instead, focusing on us. Her crew.

Fuck. Me.

I hadn’t known. I hadn’t seen it.

I saw it now, and no, no, no.

I wasn’t going to let that happen, but that was so not a conversation we could have now. She wasn’t ready for it, but dammit, when we did have it, I had to go hard. Super fucking hard. I was not going to lose her, lose us, because she felt guilty about her dad.

“Hey.” I tipped her head up, my finger under her chin. “Tabatha is a big girl. So’s Jordan. He didn’t come to us earlier, and you know, he may never have until you pushed back. So, it happened. People made decisions for themselves and you didn’t know because maybe you weren’t supposed to know.”

“What?” She half-laughed that question, while half-frowning at the same time.