“Found out durin’ our talk that Olivia bought them both cells yesterday. Said they were New Year’s sales treats. What it was was preparation for a middle of the night stealth attack.”

I bit my lip and nodded.

Still cautious, I queried, “Um… why didn’t she call the cops?”

“Said if it wasn’t an intruder, she didn’t want to look like an idiot or waste their time.”

Hmm. Seems she didn’t mind wasting Brock’s time. Or waking him up. Or Joel for that matter.

Again cautious, I asked, “Did she honestly think you were going to get up in the middle of the night, go to her house, and check?”

He gave me a look. That look told me exactly how Olivia had made Brock’s life miserable in the years they were divorced but she was not married to Dade.

I decided to stop asking questions.

Brock opened Joel’s new phone, hit some buttons, which I suspected powered it down, closed it, opened his nightstand drawer, dropped it in with a clatter then shoved the drawer closed so violently his lamp wobbled on top.

Oh man.

“Honey,” I whispered.

“I got it in check, babe,” he rumbled and I shut up because he did but I could tell only barely.

Joel came back and the instant he hit the room, the atmosphere changed, though it only became nonabrasive. The spark and flash of electricity still filled the air. Joel gave his dad his brother’s phone, Brock did a repeat of the power down, drawer thing but without the lamp wobble and Joel watched him do it.

Then his eyes lifted to his father’s.

“Dad—”

“Benefit of the doubt, Joey,” Brock cut him off to say. “Yeah?”

I didn’t get this but Joel did because he nodded. Then he shuffled his feet and his eyes moved to glue themselves to the cell in his father’s hand.

It came to me in that moment that I should have asked my drowsy bad boy about the important talk he had with his sons rather than jumped his bones.

Alas, I did not.

Very long seconds ticked by in silence before I broke it with, “Joey, honey, you want me to make you some hot cocoa?”

Joel tore his eyes from his father’s phone and looked at me.

“No, thanks, Tess,” he mumbled.

“You want to come over here and sit down with me?” I asked.

“I…” He hesitated, looked to his dad then walked over to me and sat down, but not close.

I pulled in a light breath, looked to Brock, and saw his eyes on his son and his jaw so hard, a muscle was jumping in his cheek.

Then he started pacing.