“Wanted to come see what a well-blown yard looks like, huh?” I ask.

“Willa—” He can barely get my name out. It’s a breath. It’s a wheeze.

I smile and lean against the post several feet away from him before turning my gaze on the yard. “It does look great out here. Your dad could suck the chrome off of a—” With one hand held up to stop me, his head drops lower and his shoulders shake harder. “I wonder if he’s sore. He really put his back into it.” I snort as I say it. Honestly, I’m barely holding it together. I am a child.

Cade gasps and stands up straight, turning his attention to me. There are tears in his eyes, and I’m sure he’s smiling—he has to be—but he has a fist held up over his mouth.

He seems younger when he’s laughing. Lighter somehow. It makes me laugh too, and before I know it, we’re both standing there, regarding the clean, violated yard, having a chuckle together.

And for once, Cade Eaton isn’t scowling at me.

“Man, my dad is such an asshole, making a joke like that. It’s just to watch us all get uncomfortable too. And then Jasper has to go from saying shit-all to delivering the killing blow without even breaking a sweat.”

I smile and marvel at the man beside me. I’ve seen him every day for a week and not once has he looked even close to this happy.

“Eaton. You grumpy motherfucker. You just laughed,” I blurt.

“Yeah, Red. I did.”

He turns to me and offers the most devastating smile. One that makes my stomach flip and my lips pop open in shock.

It’s like I just put glasses on for the first time and am seeing him in a completely different light.

And I can’t look away.

9

Cade

I hold the door open and usher Willa back into the house. She flashes a look over her shoulder as she walks through the front hall. One that’s all smug and satisfied. One that says she thinks she’s in on some sort of secret.

And maybe she is. The secret is that even though I try to act like the tough, mature big brother and dad, I’m dying inside over blow job jokes.

I’ve just been spending all these years faking that I’m ultra-responsible, hoping that I can fake myself into believing it. Most days I do, but moments like tonight I wonder what I’ve lost in the process.

I wonder if I’m still applying what responsibility looked like to me as a child to the life of a full-grown man. Because that’s what I was when I stepped up in the wake of our mother’s death—a child.