I laugh, a real one this time, not the kind dragged out by nerves. “Right. Silly question.”

I busy myself plating the food, sliding very generous portions onto his plate. It’s easier to focus on the tangible small tasks—setting forks beside napkins, pouring coffee—than the messier bigger thoughts crowding my mind.

By the time we sit down at the dining table, the mood has shifted. Some of the tightness in Alex’s shoulders has eased, replaced by the slow, familiar rhythm of him eating with single-minded focus.

Food always puts him in a better mood.

“I talked to my family last night while you were sleeping.”

I blink, surprised.

“You did?” I wipe my mouth with the napkin. “I didn’t hear you get up.”

“You were out cold. Your body needed the rest.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Nothing has happened. I spoke with Elias and asked if he could come to the States for a little while.”

I sit up straighter, confused, the words taking a second to sink in. “To be with you while you’re recovering?”

“No, to be with you in Charleston.”

Alex shrugs, like it’s no big deal. Like he didn’t just drop a bomb on me about my life over breakfast.

“Elias said yes. He’s always looking for an excuse to visit. Loves the U.S., and he’s never spent time on the East Coast. He’s excited about it.”

Guilt rises fast and hot, clawing its way up my throat.

“I’m so sorry, Alex. I hate that your brother will have to rearrange his life because of me.”

Alex leans back and pins me with a look that’s equal parts gentle and fierce. “You’re not causing a thing, Magnolia.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he cuts me off. “Elias offered. You’re one of us now, and that’s how we roll in the Sebring family. When someone needs backup, we show up. No questions. No guilt trips. Only love.”

The words hit me harder than they should.

I swallow against the lump rising in my throat, trying to process the simple, staggering truth of what he’s saying. I’ve never known loyalty like that. Never known what it is to be someone’s priority without having to earn it or beg for it.

Robin and Charlene can’t be bothered to return a text or call, much less book a plane ticket.

The raw, aching difference between duty and devotion settles in my chest, stealing my breath for a moment. I don’t argue. I don’t downplay it or brush it off.

Instead, I meet his gaze and say the only thing big enough for the moment. “Thank you for looking out for me.”