He laughs, but his bright eyes dim and he leans back, his gaze locking on his lap.

“But I would like to have you there. If that’s where you want to be. I have the room, and I love you. You’re pretty much my fifth brother, like it or not.”

“That’s cool of you, Carter,” he mumbles, but I can see the change in his posture—the way his expression went from hopeful and excited to withdrawn again. “You don’t have to be my friend just because you were there that night, you know,” he says, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “It’s not your fault he died, so it’s not your job to take his place.”

My heart is a stone dropping into my stomach. “I don’t want to take your dad’s place. I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t try.” I swallow hard. It’s not your fault he died. “I won’t pretend I don’t feel guilty that we lost him. That’s there, but it has nothing to do with me wanting to be here for you.”

He nods, still not meeting my gaze, and that stone in my gut turns into an ache.

“You can think about it. There’s no rush to decide.”

“Are you going to marry Teagan?”

The question catches me off guard and I laugh. “Hell, it’s a little early for plans like that.”

“But . . .?”

“But if that’s how it turned out, I’d consider myself luckier than I deserve.”

After swinging by my house to get the mail, I go to Jackson Brews to grab lunch. This morning’s conversation with Isaiah left me raw but hopeful. I have no doubt the arrangement would bring up a hundred complications I haven’t even considered yet, but I know that it’d be worth it. If he doesn’t want to live with me, that’s fine, but I want him to know he’s welcome. I want him to understand he might have lost his father, but he has a family beyond his grandmother.

“How’s Operation Fake Boyfriend?” Jake asks, one brow cocked.

“I’ve moved on to Operation Make Her Mine,” I say, pushing my plate away. For once, I’m stopping because I’m full and not because of my lack of appetite.

Jake grins. “I approve.”

“I thought you might.” I trail my thumb through the condensation on my water glass. “She has secrets.”

“Don’t we all?”

I nod. “Sure. I only hope she’ll eventually trust me with hers.”

My phone buzzes by my arm, clattering against the bar top—once, twice, three times. I grin as I grab it, expecting a text from Teagan and hoping for a picture. Or a few pictures. It’s just after noon, and she thought she’d be done with the henna party by now. We don’t have anything scheduled until the rehearsal and dinner tonight, and I’ve spent my morning preoccupied with the idea of spending the afternoon in bed with her. Maybe she could try on the lingerie her sister bought her and then spend some time getting her to let me slowly peel it off.