Maybe that’s a bad example, only because it’s the least of my reactions to Rachel being near.

But you get the gist.

Gabe’s stern gaze assesses me for so long, I want to take back what I said about trusting me. And then he blows out a breath and says:

“Okay.”

Okay. And that’s it. That’s the end of the conversation.

After all that—after all these years—he’s willing to do it. To trust me.

Maybe it’s Lucy’s influence on him.

Or maybe things are changing for me.

I’ve worked really hard these last few weeks, and I haven’t minded or resented it.

Even before Rachel said those words—the man you really are—I wanted to be that man for her.

So maybe it’s that. Gabe’s softer, and I’m—invested.

But it’s also possible that I missed the truth, which is that at any point, if I’d asked Gabe nicely to trust me…?

He would have been willing to do it.

I open my mouth to ask, but there’s a strange—choking—noise from behind me, on the boat.

Gabe moves so fast he’s almost a blur, grabbing Buck and practically tossing him out of the boat, depositing him on the ground below. And not a moment too soon, because Buck proceeds to lose the contents of his stomach in the grass.

Gabe groans, then leans over. “Why is Buck’s vomit purple and glittery?”

It takes me a minute, but I figure it out. “We did a small party in this boat, and I guess one of Rachel’s toys got left behind. Buck must have found it and chewed it up.”

“God damn,” Gabe says. “I’m going to have to call the vet and make sure silicone isn’t toxic to dogs.”

“That one’s latex,” I tell him.

Gabe shoots me a long, hard look.

“What? I have nothing to do but listen to her spiel.”

And watch her handle the merch.

My cock gets heavy, thinking about it.

Gabe’s eyes narrow. Then narrow more.

“What?!” I’m already defending myself.

“You tell me!”

I’m about to lie by omission, or at least quibble by omission, but then Gabe says, “If you’re not sleeping with her yet, you’re going to.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

I frown at him, but only so I don’t smile. And is that a smile I see on my brother’s face?

No fucking way.

“You know how I know that?” Gabe asks.

I shake my head.

“Buck has put his stamp of approval on it.”

My brother is talking straight up nonsense. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. I’m dead serious.” And then Gabe tells me a story. About the boat ride I took Lucy on earlier this summer, her unfortunate seasickness incident, and the fate of one of his sweatshirts.