The quiet was disturbed by the sound of a vehicle on their private road and the opening and closing of a garage door.

Gryff gave a low woof and raced across the grass onto Bull’s deck. Nose against the glass, the dog quivered with anticipation.

Guess Bull was back. Probably to get ready for work.

Was he alone or with the yorkie? She’d spent the night after the Italian meal and last night, as well.

Hawk’s mouth twisted. His brothers had found themselves girlfriends. Not surprising. They were damned good-looking. Got on with people. Women pursued all three of them with the tenacity of a coyote pack after rabbits.

Must be nice to be the focus of that kind of attention.

Not that Bull appreciated it. Not in the fucking least. Hawk eyed Gryff, still waiting at the door. Bull was completely comfortable with a dog pawing him, demanding attention, leaning against him. He didn’t appreciate it from a female.

No, that was wrong. Bull had been openly affectionate with that ex-wife of his. Hawk shook his head. He’d only met Paisley once, but she’d seemed to be all surface beauty with nothing underneath. From Bull’s silence about his marriage, the woman had probably screwed him over.

Sympathy made Hawk feel, maybe, less annoyed Bull had secured the woman Hawk had ever-so-briefly considered making a move on.

Stupid idea, really. He couldn’t compete with his brothers. Like what’d happened when—

Bull came out on the deck, and Gryff started turning in spirals of happiness. Bending, Bull gave the mutt a rough scratching along his ribs and butt, then picked up his egg basket. They rotated egg-collection days, giving each of them a chance to restock their own larders.

As Bull crossed the lawn, he spotted Hawk. “Yo, bro. Having a quiet day?”

“Yeah.” Hawk frowned, seeing his brother’s strained expression—the same one he often saw in his own mirror. But…Bull? “You okay?”

“Sure, sure.” Bull started to walk on, stopped, and shook his head. “No, that’s a bullshit cover-up. That macho crap is partly why Mako was such a mess. Gabe, too. Hell, all of us are fucked-up in different ways.”

Hawk stared at him in shock. “What?”

Putting a foot on Hawk’s steps, Bull set his elbows on the railing and gazed out at the lake where a float plane was coming in for a landing. “Mako had PTSD. We all knew it, but he avoided like hell discussing it with us. He taught us that bullshit—not to talk about our problems. When Gabe came back with his head on wrong, he spent the winter alone in Sarge’s old cabin instead of coming to one of us for help.”

Hawk’s mouth tightened. Hiding out was pretty much what he’d done a time or two.

But…Bull hadn’t really answered his question. “What about you?”