“And he’s right there if you want to talk to him.” With a roll of her eyes, Avery jabbed a finger toward the door. “Don’t you even want to know what he said to Jonathan’s father, and vice versa?”

“It’s not relevant.” Even if it did drive her a little crazy. “Besides, you know. He’d have told Owen by now.”

Avery hissed out a breath. “So instead of having an actual conversation with Ryder, you want to circle around to what he told Owen to what Owen told me?”

“Yes.”

“But not stubborn,” Avery added.

“Are you going to tell me Ryder had a right to go down there and confront Baxter Wickham without talking to me first?”

Heaving out a breath, Avery rose, got a soda from the fridge. This would take longer than she’d planned, and might be thirsty work. “You grew up with a sister and a mom as well as a brother and a dad. Me? It was mostly me and my dad, and the surrogate family of the Montgomerys, which was three guys. I have more of a guy perspective about some stuff.”

“Which means?”

“I think Ry did exactly what Ry’s instincts told him to do—or his secondary instinct, because the first would’ve been to hunt Jonathan down and turn him into pulp. I like his first instinct, but you wouldn’t. His second was civilized.”

“Civilized?”

At Hope’s appalled tone, Avery lifted her shoulders, spread her hands. “Sorry, that’s my take. He drove all the way to D.C., and you should know he hates going down there. Ryder would consider the 270 corridor the seventh circle of Hell. Plus, he would’ve been pissed at losing a half a day’s work. But he did that because nobody was going to screw with you that way and get away with it.”

“But—”

“Relationships aren’t always rational and balanced, Hope. They’re human. And you’re in a relationship with a guy who’s wired to act rather than talk about it—discuss, debate, weigh alternative options. Harder for you because you’re the talk and discuss and weigh-it type. You’re not wrong, either of you. You’re just dealing with different wiring.”

Understanding her closest friend stood on the other side of that line, or at least straddled it, made for a tough swallow. But honesty meant more than lip service.

Usually.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? We’re too different.”

“So are Owen and I. In fact, he’s more like you; I’m more like Ry. But I’m not in love with Ryder. I’m not going to marry Ryder in the dress I just bought. I’m messy and impulsive and fly off quicker than most. But Owen doesn’t try to change me.”