Carter and Tate are standing side by side at the stove, neither of them at each other’s throats, neither of them slinging insults, neither of them radiating their usual brand of chaotic brotherly tension that I’ve come to expect. They look… calm. Like, actually calm. Carter is pouring coffee, and Tate is flipping pancakes, and the only thing that seems even remotely aggressive is the fact that Tate is wearing his usual scowl while doing it but that doesn’t mean shit because he always looks like that.

I pause in the doorway, taking it all in, noting the way they both glance up at me at the same time, how Carter’s face softens, how Tate just lifts a brow, how something is very obviously going on and neither of them are saying a damn word about it. Yeah, that’s not normal.

I drop my bag by the door, crossing my arms, arching a brow. “Okay,” I say slowly, my voice laced with suspicion. “Who bribed who, and how much was it?”

Carter blinks, Tate snorts, and neither of them answer fast enough, which only makes my suspicion grow stronger.

I motion toward the plate that’s already sitting on the counter, clearly meant for me. “Breakfast? Really? Since when do I get the VIP treatment?”

Carter just gives me that sweet, golden smile, that makes my stomach flip, the one that makes me want to curl up in his arms and forget that I’m supposed to leave today.

“We figured you deserved a good meal before you head out,” he says easily, like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Besides, I cook all the time. This isn’t new.”

“Yeah, well, this guy doesn’t right?” I deadpan, motioning toward Tate, who doesn’t even try to defend himself, just takes a slow sip of his coffee like he’s unbothered, like he knows exactly what I’m getting at.

I narrow my eyes further, shifting my weight, tilting my head. “Okay. What the hell is going on? You two are being… weird.”

Tate finally lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head, flipping another pancake. “Damn, pretty girl,” he muses, not even looking at me. “Can’t a guy be nice for once?”

I fold my arms tighter, tapping my fingers against my bicep. “A guy? Sure.” My eyes bounce between them. “You two? Not a fucking chance.”

Carter lets out a breath, shifting on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck the way he does when he’s trying to figure out how to say something without making it sound like a big deal. I can already tell whatever this is, it is a big deal, and the fact that he’s hesitating just makes my stomach twist even more.

“Alright,” he says finally, setting his coffee down, turning to face me more fully. “Tate and I… talked.”