Apparently, Colt had been our audience for a while.

“I thought I was protecting him,” I explained.

“You got that job, babe. Definitely. But when you do that, actually do it. And you aren’t doin’ it, keepin’ anything from him.”

I had noted late in life, after getting Colt in that life, that having a big brother rocked.

Except in times like these when he shared badass wisdom and relationship advice and it compounded the feeling of being an idiot I already felt.

It sucked to admit it was lucky for me he did. I’d already come to this conclusion about how to proceed in a relationship with Merry, but his added wisdom wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

Just mostly unwelcome because it compounded the feeling of me being an idiot.

I powered past that because I had no choice and because the jig was up, and since it was, I had to see to my part of the protection deal with Merry.

“Ryker’s got somethin’ goin’ on with that house, Colt, and I’m not thinkin’ Merry’s gonna be too happy when he finds out what it is.”

“I’ll talk to Mike. I’ll talk to Tanner. We’ll have his back.”

That made me feel better.

“Thanks,” I muttered, again moving to pass him.

“Cher,” he called again.

I stopped on an audible huff and gave him big impatient eyes.

I knew by his dancing he was going to give me shit, but I had no clue how the kind of shit he was going to give me would make me feel.

“You ask anyone else other than me to give you away at your wedding, it’s gonna piss me off.”

All the oxygen evacuated my body. Gone. I couldn’t breathe. And when you can’t breathe, you can’t move. So that’s what happened. I stood there, immobile, not breathing, staring at Colt, thinking of walking down an aisle in a church toward Garrett Merrick.

Since Colt got me and got me good, he smiled huge, moved into me, tossed an arm around my neck, and forced me out of my statue state to walk tucked into his side toward the bar.

“Holy crap, what’d Merry do to her?” Feb asked as we got close.

“Nothin’. I just called givin’ her away at her wedding,” Colt declared.

I wheezed.

Feb grinned.

Then she put in her two cents. “I think Ethan should do it.” She looked to her husband. “Merry’ll want you to stand up with him anyway, babe.”

Ethan giving me away.

How perfect would that be?

“Are you serious?” Ryan snapped. “Shit, how long you been seein’ Merrick?”

“My count, officially, they been together just over a week,” Colt shared helpfully.

“Are you serious?” Ryan repeated on another snap, his eyes aimed at me getting squinty. “A week? And you’re getting married? The dude’s a good guy, but are you crazy?”

I pulled my shit together and snapped back, “We’re not getting married. Colt’s just bein’ an asshole.”

Ryan looked somewhat relieved but mostly confused.