Tucker shook his head swiftly. “No.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Arlo it was way fucking worse than Jimmy Hutchins, but he was determined to be upbeat.

Maybe Arlo would follow suit.

“It’s not bad.” Tucker forced a smile. “It’s a good thing.”

“If you don’t tell me what’s up in the next five seconds, I’ll throw your ass in jail.”

Or maybe not…

“Della’s joined Tinder,” Drew said. He’d always been a rip-the-Band-Aid-off-quickly kinda guy.

If Arlo had been someone else, Tucker might have found the quick change of his expressions comical. From what the fuck to over my dead body in two point five seconds. Arlo stared at Drew for a long time, as if deciding which of his guns he was going to use to shoot the messenger, before he shifted his gaze to Tucker.

“I need you to tell me this guy who used to be my friend is joking. And if not, I need you to help me bury his body.”

Drew didn’t look too perturbed by Arlo’s hyperbole. “Arlo.” Tucker sighed. “She’s twenty-five. You don’t get a say.”

“Goddamn it,” he hissed, his eyes flashing, his jaw tightening so hard Tucker worried it might shatter. “She’s not your average twenty-five-year-old.”

“But she wants to be, Arlo, and you stomping around like fucking Conan the Barbarian is not going to change that.”

Drew nodded in vigorous agreement. “You gotta let out the rope, dude. Any one of my sisters would have junk-punched me by now for even having an opinion about this.” Drew had four sisters—he spoke from obvious experience.

“It’s a hookup app!” he ground out through clenched teeth. “She’s not ready for that testosterone swamp.”

“She says she is.” Tucker’s voice sounded surprisingly calm. Della being on Tinder made him want to cut up a truckload of lemons, but what she needed from him—from all of them—was support. And that’s what she’d get.

Arlo looked between his friends, from one to the other. “So you both think it’s okay for her to be…getting out there again?” he demanded.

Theoretically, Tucker was fine with it. It wasn’t his life, and it sure as hell wasn’t his or Drew’s or Arlo’s business. Whatever Arlo’s justification for trying to keep Della wrapped up safe—it was null and void. She was a grown woman who was in control of her life. Just because she’d handed that control over for a while didn’t mean it wasn’t hers to take back.

And she clearly wanted it back.

“It doesn’t matter whether we are or not,” Drew reiterated, echoing Tucker’s thoughts. “It’s got nothing to do with us. Or you.”