“What? We’re eating here?” Jordan asked. He looked at me. “We’re eating now?”

I glanced at Heather. She seemed relaxed, though she was looking at that can almost the same way Zellman was looking at her. I shrugged. Why not? Taz was still inside.

“I’m okay with that.”

“Score.”

Jordan jumped up. Zellman didn’t, still distracted.

“Dude.” Jordan hit his shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Huh?” Zellman blinked a few times. “Oh, hey, Cross.” He zoomed in. “Wait! You got food? We’re eating here?” And it was inevitable; his gaze drifted back down to Heather’s leg.

“Boy,” she growled, her hand tightening around the smoker’s can. “If you don’t stop ogling me, I’m going to hit you upside the head with this can. Got it?”

“Got it.” He jerked back, as if slapped, then rushed inside after Jordan.

“Yesss.” Cross dropped down in one of their abandoned chairs. He lounged back, kicking his feet to rest on the empty bonfire pit.

“Okay.” Heather stood, handing the can to me. “I have to go work or do something. You’d think I’d be over this shit, but nooo. A bad fucking habit for life really means a bad fucking habit for life.” Her eyes settled on me a moment as she headed for the door. “I’ll let you know if they call again.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re still worried?” Cross asked when the door closed behind her.

“He’s my brother. I mean, that’s normal. Right?”

Cross put his burger on the chair next to him. “He’ll be fine.” He looked over his shoulder to where Heather had gone. “If we’re really needed, she’ll tell us to go. You know that.”

I knew he was right. Channing wouldn’t want us involved, but Heather wasn’t my sister. She’d send us in if she thought we needed to go, or she’d call in other guys to help back him up. Coming here just helped me know one other person was worried about him too—and shit, I just realized I was worried about my brother.

My brother.

I blinked a few times, straightening up in shock. “I’m worried about my brother.” How’d that happen?

Cross bit into his burger, and he grinned at me around it. “I know. It’s like we’re in an alternate universe or something. How’s it feel?”

“How’s what feel?”

“Feeling a little normal.” He swallowed his food, his eyes darkening, suddenly getting serious. “It’s typical to be worried about family.”

It wasn’t in my world.

I scowled at him. “You’re my family.”

His tone quieted. “You know what I mean.” He bit into his burger again.

I’d never offered to back up a crew with ours before. That was different too. Channing had stepped in to handle disputes between crews, but actually aligning my crew with his—it hadn’t happened. But we were related. It made sense.

“You know,” Cross said. “If our crew and his crew were connected, together we’d be bigger than the Ryerson crew.”

I did the math. Channing’s crew had twenty-six members. Our four brought that up to thirty, and some of his weren’t active. They’d moved away, gotten old, and started families.

“Ryerson’s would still be bigger, by a few.”

“But we’d be the baddest of them all.” He grinned, taking another bite of his burger.

There was that.

“Well, that hasn’t happened.” I could hear Jordan and Zellman coming back outside, and as they pushed the screen door open, I added, “I like how we are right now.”

Cross grunted, and the conversation dropped.

Jordan and Zellman sat down across from us with bags full of food. As they devoured everything, Taz came out with a soda and a chicken sandwich balanced on top of her tote bag. She took the last empty seat between Cross and Jordan, but she paused before she did.

No one acted like they noticed, but everyone did.

I glanced at Cross. He met my gaze. More food for thought.

Taz placed her sandwich on her lap, then dug into her bag. “Thanks for coming with me. I got three big sponsors I know no one else will get. It’s a big deal.”

She handed over some papers, but I declined to look at them, putting a fry into my mouth instead.

“Yeah. And don’t forget about Race’s dad,” I told her.

“I know.” Taz’s eyes rounded, like they had when my cousin came out. “Did you know his dad runs the Harley-Davidson dealership in Wakefield?”

“How do you know that?” Cross asked her.

She put the papers back in her bag and reached for her sandwich as she answered. “It’s all over school. Sunday knew the first day he showed up.” She was about to take a bite when she noticed the stares from everyone. “You guys didn’t know?”

They looked at me instead.

“You did?” Jordan asked.

“I just knew his dad ran a Harley store.” The dealership in Wakefield was big, really big.

“I’m getting sick of this kid. He’s everywhere. I bet if I took a dump, he’d be in the shower,” Jordan grumbled. He was looking at me.

“What?” I asked. “You know why he’s here. He told us.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He kicked up his feet. Balling up his wrappers, he tossed them into the empty bonfire pit. His arms folded over his chest. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah. I heard what he said. Drake messed with him, then the fighting ring and the divorce, but why do I have a feeling he’s not going to go away?”

He kept looking at me, though he sounded like he was talking to himself.

I snagged another fry, but Jordan was still watching me intently. “What? I’m not his spokesperson.”

His eyes narrowed. “I got a feeling he wished you were.” His eyes skirted to Cross, taking on a speculative gleam. He lifted his chin towards us. “And what was he talking about before? About wondering, but not?”

Tension settled back over me, pressing down, but so did a ball of anger in my gut. The more Jordan pushed me, the more it rolled around, getting bigger and bigger with each circle.

Did he want to fight? Was that what he wanted?

Race wasn’t an issue for us. I was getting sick of even hearing his name, not to mention the way Jordan was directing all this crap at me. Race had helped us. He wasn’t an adversary. That might change in the future, but Jordan pushing me now had me ready to take up a cause I didn’t care about in the first place.

“Ask him yourself!” I snarled.

And we were back to the old dynamic—where Jordan was pissed at me for something, and I was defiant. That ball was percolating, getting larger and larger.

“Or we stop talking about the guy.” Cross tossed his burger wrapping into the bonfire too. “Hmm? How about that?”

Zellman’s eyes shifted between Jordan and me, then went to Cross as he took another big bite of his burger. It was almost gone, and he reached for his bag of fries.

Jordan snorted. “Of course you’d take up for her. Why am I not shocked?”

Cross’ eyes narrowed. “You got something to say to me?”

Taz’s eyes were wide and round. I was surprised too. Cross had already said a lot against Race. Now he was piping in against Jordan? Where’d the silent and lethal guy go? He was becoming more confrontational.

“Okay.” Taz waved her hands in a circle. “Not sure what’s going on here, but I only need a few more sponsors in case Race’s dad doesn’t come through.” A nervous laugh filtered from her. “Remember? That’s what we’re doing here. Not fighting.”

I continued to stare at Jordan as I asked her, “How many more?”

“Three, and they’re small packages. Your cousin, and the two Jaxes inside got the big ones.”

I had ideas on a few more spots we could visit. I stood up. “Come on. I’ll take you to the rest.” I handed my fries to Cross. “I lost my appetite.”

Taz stood too, her bag and sandwich in hand.

I squared my shoulders. “You got a stick up your ass when it comes to me,” I told Jordan. “You better get right with the fact that I’m not going to always do what you want, and you better stop putting other shit on me, like this guy. He’s not a problem. Stop making him mine.” I looked at Cross. “You want to come?”